The fat lady sat
on her chair, the
wrinkles ran up
to her drooping
face.
She listened to
the click of her
Rings, and stretched
herself
to see something.
She sat back,
combed her hair
with a long nail.
PhilosopherPoet
Archive for March, 2008
Portrait
March 14, 2008Treatment
March 14, 2008
The box bent corners
around his face.
He slept in the plastic
wrap around
his cardboard arms.
A hand touched him
once, far away in the
Sky, the searing silver
coin burnt his eyes
to touch.
PhilosopherPoet
The Need for Diversity
March 14, 2008Today was very boring at work. Part of my job involves looking at broken musical instruments. It’s very depressing, but hey it’s a job so I’m not complaining too much. I look at guitars, trumpets, keyboards, drums and a list that keeps going on. Today it happened to be amplifiers at work.
I did begin to enjoy myself now and again, when I got over-confident with a microphone in my hands, but it was just a generally menial task for me. My job went something like this:
- Move about 20 crates of amplifiers (about 20 kg’s each) to the testing area.
- Unpack an amplifier
- Test it with the microphone in each channel
- Packet it away again
- Place a green sticker on it, if it happens to work.
- If it doesn’t work, put it to one side.
- Repeat from number 2.
That was pretty much the form that my work took. Yes, it did bore me horribly but work’s work. Usually my day has a bit of variety to it, although this time it was pretty plain.
Now the point of this blog isn’t only to bitch and moan about my day, although it does feel good to do that I must admit. I want to discuss diversity. I think we need lots of stimulation. I also find that intelligent people need it more than other people.
I’m not talking about a short attention span either, but I think we need to do more things and things that make us think. My job doesn’t involve much thinking at this stage (reason being it’s a bottom-end job). So I’m a very creative person so I have to find things to do – apart from work – that keep me going. I often take so time at work to blog a bit or do more writing, whether it be more poetry or prose.
Speaking of which I did more today, I’ll include them in the following posts. Let’s just say that they were good distractions, I’m particularly proud of ‘Distant’.
I’ll rant more later 
PhilosopherPoet
Sharing and Making out
March 13, 2008I haven’t got time to blog, but I thought I’d at least leave something to laugh at. My favorite web comic, Cyanide and Happiness!
PhilosopherPoet 
Dreaming Dreams
March 10, 2008Dreams are probably the most unexplained and weird alternate reality we can experience. It can be only explained to a certain degree, that it is your unconscious and your interpretation of things. They are still very real to us.
Psychologists also use dreams to explore people. Dreams tell us want we sometimes don’t want to hear. It’s like we are guarded during the day, then as soon as we hit that pillow, the brain opens up like a flower. A friend of mine doesn’t go out often to watch movies. Her argument in “what’s the point when you can close your eyes and dream for free!”
Having dreams, or dreaming at least also means you’ll face a couple of nightmare. You might avoid the scary stuff, but don’t think the unconscious will let you get away with that. You’ll get a nightmare when you’re least expecting it sometimes, and the problem is its so real its hard to forget.
Just something to think about, dreams fascinate me anyway…
PhilosopherPoet
The Brave One
March 9, 2008Woohoo…another Jodie Foster movie. I’m a fan of hers, so generally I find her acting good, and malleable. Although, like any actor, has had criticism. I’ll spare that sort of detail for now, and switch to the storyline.
Brief Synopsis
Erica Bane (Jodie Foster) is in love, and is about to be married. She also holds down a job as a DJ for a local Radio station, she’s a narrator that tells a certain saga. To give a brief idea, her lover/soon-to-be husband is killed by a mob. She is wounded in the fight (physically), not to mention the psychological/emotion pain of losing a loved one. She admits that the incident changed her. She reckons you can’t go back and be the same person.
So she decides she needs to finish this off. She takes revenge along with the law into her hands. It’s a very simple idea, something that’s almost a cliché plot in films. Although, this one is phenomenal. The storyline is extremely convincing. Seeing Erica go through so much, the viewer is emotionally attached to her. She may be killing, but it’s the so-called scum of society. It feels justified. I never thought that I’d be rooting for a killer, but nevertheless I am.
Revenge
This is clearly the theme of the movie. It is generally considered emotionally immature, and morally wrong to ‘get back’ at those who have hurt you. I don’t think its legitimate to vent your pain, on your oppressor. Look if I had to go through a revenge experience, it might be different. If you happen to be fucked up by life, you don’t grab the closest gun and shoot the shit out of it. That would be acting on your instincts, which are flawed, despite the vague sense of logic behind them.
In the film you’re also left wondering which happens to be the greater evil. The options would be letting the hardened criminals run loose and commit more crimes, or putting an end to the lives of the murderers. I think it’s a hard one. It may not be ethical, but is it morally justifiable?
I’m really in two minds about the movie. On one hand I think people should take the law into their own hands, but that really isn’t a good idea, since you’re just gonna cause chaos in the long run. Despite how attached I felt to the character of Erica, I still believe she was wrong. You don’t cope with a situation, so your job is to pull yourself out of the mess. Yes, it might be hard.
And the Law? Yes, I’m pretty confident that there’s plenty of loop holes in the system. What I mean to say is stick to the rules (in this case) not because it’s the right thing to do, but simply because it’s an immature reponse to act on your urges.
Just a thought, feel free to disagree…
PhilosopherPoet
Nightmares and Dreamscapes
March 6, 2008I’m busy reading this book, by Stephen King. I’d say it’s surprisingly good. He hits more than he misses. Even when he not his best he’s still very good. This kind of inspired the story I posted earlier titled The Ghost with No Face. I enjoy he horror/thrillers because he focuses on a tidy storyline, and not blood and guts. He does throw in some blood, when it is needed.
I personally like gore, but being a writer, I wouldn’t sacrifice it for an enticing storyline. I’ve found as a writer, that if you can have good characters, a good plot will follow. Some writers plan out their stories, but I think characters themselves create the story. King really believes in his characters, in his writing you get the feeling that he understands them with a profound clarity.
Since its short stories, I can still give some opinion. I’d give it 7 or 8 out of 10. It’s hard to judge a compilation. The reason being, if you’re reading a really gripping story, you’ll be biased and give the book a high rating. In and same sense if you’re reading a mediocre story, then you’ll be reluctant to say anything good about the book.
With Stephen King, I don’t have many complaints luckily; will give more feedback, when I’ve finished the book. So far, it has very gripping and excellent short stories.
PhilosopherPoet
Top 100 English sites (for the bored browser)
March 5, 2008Here’s are the top 100 English sites. I hope this helps cure boredom, and offer some alternatives to a browser who’s hopelessly bored out of his skull. I would arrange them differently, but its still useful to see. I think Google should’ve beat Yahoo, just because I think its way better, anyway enjoy.
This review was taken from:
Happy Browsing
PhilosopherPoet
1.
www.yahoo.com
Site info for yahoo.com 
2.
www.youtube.com
Site info for youtube.com 
3.
www.live.com
Site info for live.com 
4.
www.google.com
Site info for google.com 
5.
www.myspace.com
Site info for myspace.com 
Interested in popular sites on the web?
Buy a List of 10,000 or 100,000!
6.
Dialup access and content provider.
www.msn.com
Site info for msn.com 
7.
A social utility that connects people, to keep up with friends, upload photos, share links and videos.
www.facebook.com
Site info for facebook.com 
8.
www.hi5.com
Site info for hi5.com 
9.
Social networking and discussion site operated by Google.
www.orkut.com
Site info for orkut.com 
10.
Users can upload up to 100 meg files for sharing. Provides downloads of 100 megs per hour on the free service. Premium service also available.
www.rapidshare.com
Site info for rapidshare.com 
11.
Free, automated weblog publishing tool that sends updates to a site via FTP.
www.blogger.com
Site info for blogger.com 
12.
www.fotolog.net
Site info for fotolog.net 
13.
www.megaupload.com
Site info for megaupload.com 
14.
www.friendster.com
Site info for friendster.com 
15.
www.microsoft.com
Site info for microsoft.com 
16.
www.megarotic.com
Site info for megarotic.com 
17.
International person to person auction site, with products sorted into categories.
www.ebay.com
Site info for ebay.com 
18.
On demand video publishing and sharing website, strongly interfaced with video blogs.
www.dailymotion.com
Site info for dailymotion.com 
19.
www.imdb.com
Site info for imdb.com 
20.
Photobucket image hosting and photo sharing
Provides image hosting for auctions, live journals, blogs, message boards, personal websites and online photo albums. Reliable, fast and very simple to use.
www.photobucket.com
Site info for photobucket.com 
21.
www.youporn.com
Site info for youporn.com 
22.
www.imageshack.us
Site info for imageshack.us 
23.
The local version of this pre-eminent search engine, offering UK-specific pages as well as world results.
www.google.co.uk
Site info for google.co.uk 
24.
www.flickr.com
Site info for flickr.com 
25.
Amazon.com seeks to be Earth’s most customer-centric company, where customers can find and discover anything they might want to buy online, and endeavors to offer its customers the lowest possible prices. Site has numerous personalization features and services including one-click buying, extensive customer and editorial product reviews, gift registries, gift certificates, wish lists, restaurant and movie listings, travel, and photo processing.
www.amazon.com
Site info for amazon.com 
26.
www.megavideo.com
Site info for megavideo.com 
27.
Fotoblog personalizable, con la posibilidad de subir una foto diaria con guestbook.
www.metroflog.com
Site info for metroflog.com 
28.
www.imagevenue.com
Site info for imagevenue.com 
29.
www.aol.com
Site info for aol.com 
30.
www.wordpress.com
Site info for wordpress.com 
31.
Large searchable torrents directory.
www.mininova.org
Site info for mininova.org 
32.
www.redtube.com
Site info for redtube.com 
33.
A searchable directory, news, stocks, sports and free e-mail.
www.go.com
Site info for go.com 
34.
Indian version of this popular search engine. Search the whole web or only webpages from India. Interfaces offered in English, Hindi, Bengali, Telugu, Marathi and Tamil.
www.google.co.in
Site info for google.co.in 
35.
www.deviantart.com
Site info for deviantart.com 
36.
www.bbc.co.uk
Site info for bbc.co.uk 
37.
www.google.ca
Site info for google.ca 
38.
www.craigslist.org
Site info for craigslist.org 
39.
www.google.com.co
Site info for google.com.co 
40.
www.google.sk
Site info for google.sk 
41.
www.google.com.vn
Site info for google.com.vn 
42.
www.netlog.com
Site info for netlog.com 
43.
www.adultfriendfinder.com
Site info for adultfriendfinder.com 
44.
www.iwiw.hu
Site info for iwiw.hu 
45.
Internet Television Peercasting Network
www.veoh.com
Site info for veoh.com 
46.
Google.co.th
www.google.co.th
Site info for google.co.th 
47.
Social and business networking.
www.perfspot.com
Site info for perfspot.com 
48.
www.google.co.hu
Site info for google.co.hu 
49.
www.apple.com
Site info for apple.com 
50.
Easily Upload Files up to 1GB for Free.
www.badongo.com
Site info for badongo.com 
51.
www.geocities.com
Site info for geocities.com 
52.
www.ebay.co.uk
Site info for ebay.co.uk 
53.
www.badoo.com
Site info for badoo.com 
54.
www.yourfilehost.com
Site info for yourfilehost.com 
55.
Thông tin hàng ngày ở Việt Nam và thế giới. Các chuyên mục khoa học, sức khoẻ, đời sống và giải trí.
www.vnexpress.net
Site info for vnexpress.net 
56.
www.sendspace.com
Site info for sendspace.com 
57.
MediaFire is the simplest way for businesses, professionals, and individuals to host files and share them with others.
www.mediafire.com
Site info for mediafire.com 
58.
www.adobe.com
Site info for adobe.com 
59.
www.cnn.com
Site info for cnn.com 
60.
www.stage6.com
Site info for stage6.com 
61.
Paid URL forwarding
www.usercash.com
Site info for usercash.com 
62.
www.multiply.com
Site info for multiply.com 
63.
www.gamespot.com
Site info for gamespot.com 
64.
www.bebo.com
Site info for bebo.com 
65.
www.megaflirt.com
Site info for megaflirt.com 
66.
www.onemanga.com
Site info for onemanga.com 
67.
www.4shared.com
Site info for 4shared.com 
68.
www.gamefaqs.com
Site info for gamefaqs.com 
69.
Personal publishing. Free weblogs.
www.xanga.com
Site info for xanga.com 
70.
www.zshare.net
Site info for zshare.net 
71.
www.download.com
Site info for download.com 
72.
FileFactory lets you upload and host files for free. Fast download speeds, unlimited downloads.
www.filefactory.com
Site info for filefactory.com 
73.
Worlds largest Bittorrent tracker.
www.thepiratebay.org
Site info for thepiratebay.org 
74.
www.google.hr
Site info for google.hr 
75.
www.depositfiles.com
Site info for depositfiles.com 
76.
www.mozilla.com
Site info for mozilla.com 
77.
Users interact with each other by watching, posting, and sharing content of all media types, including blogs, photos, audio, and video.
www.imeem.com
Site info for imeem.com 
78.
Online portal with free e-mail and many other services.
www.rediff.com
Site info for rediff.com 
79.
www.invisionfree.com
Site info for invisionfree.com 
80.
www.about.com
Site info for about.com 
81.
www.nba.com
Site info for nba.com 
82.
www.vmn.net
Site info for vmn.net 
83.
www.ku6.com
Site info for ku6.com 
84.
This site is home to the most comprehensive BitTorrent search engine, with cross-referenced trackers data you can t find anywhere else. Along with integrated XDCC, Fserve and NFO search for files on IRC (currently offline). In short, this is your all-in-one P2P files search engine.
www.isohunt.com
Site info for isohunt.com 
85.
Faimosul motor de căutare în limba română.
www.google.ro
Site info for google.ro 
86.
www.crunchyroll.com
Site info for crunchyroll.com 
87.
Includes codes, reviews, previews, features, releases, hardware, contests, and a gamestore for console and PC games.
www.ign.com
Site info for ign.com 
88.
www.digg.com
Site info for digg.com 
89.
www.google.com.au
Site info for google.com.au 
90.
www.google.com.ph
Site info for google.com.ph 
91.
www.google.com.my
Site info for google.com.my 
92.
www.taringa.net
Site info for taringa.net 
93.
Sparti ir švari pasaulinė bendros paskirties automatinė paieška, veikianti ir lietuvių kalba.
www.google.lt
Site info for google.lt 
94.
www.paypopup.com
Site info for paypopup.com 
95.
www.easy-share.com
Site info for easy-share.com 
96.
www.google.com.do
Site info for google.com.do 
97.
Play poker online at PartyPoker.com, the world s largest poker room. You ll find Texas Hold em, Omaha, Omaha Hi/Lo, 7 Card Stud & 7 Card Stud Hi/Lo. They have an excellent Poker School, as well as lots of huge tournaments.
www.partypoker.com
Site info for partypoker.com 
98.
www.tagged.com
Site info for tagged.com 
99.
www.adultadworld.com
Site info for adultadworld.com 
100.
The Ghost with No Face
March 4, 2008
Sally saw a ghost that night. It was while she knitted a scarf for her nephew. The clicking of the needles, and the prickling wool, made the darkness listen to her. She always used to sing these hymns to herself. Ones her late father once played every night on the piano. Sally was old now, her singing turned to croaking in places. It was more of a hum of words came into her mouth from the past. Hymns eased away the time.
Sally had been staying in the building, before anyone. She only knew her apartment. The worn sofas, the rocking chair, the dusty carpets, and the moaning pipes shrieked through the night. Sally had built up a rhythm, to keep herself company. She walked in the morning. She visited her dying daughter, never remembering the old woman, who came to see her. She went on to the book club. They spoke of Victorian novels that were swallowed with social intensity.
The restaurant collected her after the books did. She’d have the same meal for lunch. It was a Wednesday, which meant she’d eat the spaghetti bolognaise. She loved to eat the mince first, grind up it, and slaughter the noodles with a sadistic smile. Sally cut up the chaos, into straight controllable limbs. She allowed herself to become nasty with food. She had such a conservative presence, that this one treat of brutality tasted delicious.
The afternoon arrived, faster some days. Sally couldn’t move very fast, her back battled to carry her along the walkway. The previously slipped discs still bit into her, when she resigned herself to her bed. She’d lie there, and watch the ticking clock across the room, accompanied by the faint moans the pipes gave now and then.
The ghost came that night. She gave no pathetic feminine shriek, or religious mantra to ward off the spirit. Instead she continued to talk to it. Sally stopped telling everyone, she always knew the girl was there. She sensed it. Once she heard a sharp giggle. It was so instant and unexpected that, she couldn’t be sure. Just like most cases she ran along with her intuition. Pleased she could have the company there, besides the fact it happened to be supernatural.
Hell waits.
The figure spoke. Its translucent shadow resembled a small girl.
“Knew you’d pop up some day,” a throaty chuckle rose from her double chin. The fat wobbled.
The age is tied. Lullabies rest between the fingers of the dead.
“I wish you wouldn’t be so cryptic.”
She paused and cut the black vein of wool, circling her thumb. Sally heard that giggle again. It was small and begged to be played with. The girl skipped and danced in front of her. Her small spotted dress swayed in a wind Sally had not heard. The girl swayed to a lilt only she knew. The music of the dead.
Numbers keep count. Tick-tock the clock won’t stop for you.
Something else filters through the girl’s usual candor. Tonight she is nasty, and probably possessed (if that’s possible once you’re dead).
“I’ll tell you something my darlin’. I ain’t ready for that hell. I see it more of a figure of speech. Something to get the children to eat their spiritual vegetables.”
She chuckled again, her arms shaking.
The ghost had no face; she revealed her expressions through her movement. Her voice arced and dipped like a hyperbola. She didn’t reply, for some reason Sally’s humor stunned her obscure speech. She stood in front of the old woman, tilted her head and watched from the place you’d call her eyes.
She walked across the room. It seemed as if she was walking into a darkroom. You saw less of her after each step. She gave a brief skip after every few steps, grabbing the corner of her dress with two watery fingers. Her features faded, only outlines were left, until those two begun to slowly seep away.
Sally smiled, watching the place where the girl should’ve been.
“Bless her heart. Poor little thing.”
After a sigh, and a few complaints, she rose from her chair. She slowly rolled into bed, curling into her silver pillow, and listened to the soft hum of the pipes.
* * *
The following day, a thick silence rested in the house. It seemed as if a person’s voice was taken out, replaced by a noiseless noise. Sometimes when you listen, you are what other people aren’t. You’re a voice, speaking to the quiet.
When you listen long enough, you begin to feel. Your silence draws the other out of its corner. Sally spoke it to, in an intuitive way. She’d woken up early this morning, feeling her way through the rusty gloom. The girl was still watching her. She looked for company, Sally felt. There were so many. None had the girl’s courage, the curiosity to step out from behind their guise.
People believed in ghosts. Many traded it off on film, turning them into tormented, broken souls. Not many could understand, or feel. Sally had come to know this. The supernatural was always known, but never felt.
Sally tried to tell people years, ago when she was still naïve, still young and blind to smaller forces around her. Too many dismissed her as a freak. She was someone seen having psychological issues, refusing to be medicated. The refusal of people, told her to withdraw. She kept the secrets to herself. People could not listen to there own questions, nor accept them.
This didn’t bother her, only the fact that people tried to draw it out of her. How could someone believe this fervently? Sally saw it as almost a reflex, calling the quiet into her. Now she went about her apartment, clearing out mess. She went to the kitchen, pouring her tea, and pulling out a rusk. Sally had old cracked lips, sensitive to the raging temperature spewing out of the kettle. She went out and sat on her veranda, doing like old folks did. She watched the day commence in front of her.
A few hours later she was at the hospital. She didn’t like to see her daughter everyday; it put too much stress into her system. Today she wanted to see her. She wanted to see someone alive, a grown up girl.
The red-haired nurse ushered Sally in.
“She’s still a bit drowsy the poor thing,” she gave a soft smile. “She was having a troubled night, took her a while to rest her mind.”
Sally watched her daughter. The tubes choked her, poking into her nose. A drip hung from a stand, the devious tubes snaking into her skin of her right hand. Propped up in bed, her hair grew over the pillow quite roots, the only soft part of her left in the hospital. She reached for her daughter’s hand, brushed it, and tried to be tender.
Her eyes flickered open. They grew wider, not knowing this old women smiling in her eyes.
“Morning April.”
“I don’t…know you…why are…you here?”
Her words struggled to escape her throat. They awkwardly poured out, punctuated my guttural groans, and croaks.
“Look at you necklace, darlin.”
She fingered the golden chain with a sluggish hand. She clicked open the locket.
“It’s you. Oh, Mom…I’m…sooo…ssss-s-sorry.”
On the back of the locket, the words Love, Mom lay engraved.
“How are you dear?”
“I can’t think too much,” her chest rose and fell with a great deal of effort. Her wrinkled brow, showed this. Pain and frustration were etched in her eyes, almost a permanent feature. Tears spilt out of her eyelids, carved a path down her face.
April had a brain tumor. For years she had a series of unexplained strokes and seizures. Last year she collapsed without warning into a coma. Three months ago, she seeped out of the cocoon, out of the trauma. Her memory failed to grasp people, understand their faces. The image was understood, but the name missing.
“It’s like a complete sum without the equals sign,” the doctor explained once. “She can see the pictures, but her brain can’t seem to fill in the gaps.”
She had been on medication to keep her at rest. Tranquilizers and painkillers kept her subdued, made her forget the gaps in her head. April couldn’t remember her own nurse. All she could retain was the names. Every time a nurse wandered in, she strain her eyes towards the badge, trying to focus on the name. April was desperate to hold on to something, hold something close.
Seeing her mother, it felt like meeting a ghost. A stranger crawling out of an unknown place. As far as she knew this was a regular visit. Three or four times a week, Sally came meeting her over again. Her mother seemed relaxed, not scared of her daughter forgetting her. Some time back, Sally gave her that necklace. It was a reminder.
* * *
Tonight Sally slid into her knitting chair. She undid her shoes, first the left, then the right. She whisked up a blanket lying next to her, smoothing it over her old knees, like worn bark. She took out the needles, long silver fingers soaking into the wool and pulling out a pattern.
She did not hum tonight, choosing rather to soak in the space around her, to listen. Besides the silence, holding its breath, only the needles were heard. Sally or course heard many other voices. Some weren’t aware. She always saw spirits in buildings. She liked to think of them as people, and not ghosts. It comforted her, brought them into perspective. No one really left this world. People’s bodies wore out, or gave out, and that was it.
Sally believed that heaven was closer than we realize.
“It’s just on the other side,” she remembered telling her daughter, in hospital once. Sally giggled. Topics such as these released a childish thrill inside her. April watched her mother’s face try and control itself.
“Isn’t it in a different galaxy, somewhere beyond earth?”
“No my dear,” she gave a tender smile, which swam out to her daughter. “It’s close. For example when you go under water everything changes, gravity, your walking, and the time you can be around. The creatures living there change, and so on.”
April remained in her hospital bed, with a pair of sluggish eyes looking over the duvet. Her mother had her interest though, talking about your fate dispelled other minor doubts and fears lurking inside you.
“People have spiritual experiences on earth. The spiritual world is just another dimension floating around us. Our relatives watch us. We don’t always feel it, but they’ll pass into our world temporarily.”
April had been listening to stories of ghosts, since she could listen. They never frightened her, because her mother had never told it in that way. She didn’t see them as diabolical, or malicious.
“None of them are harmful,” reaffirming her daughter’s thoughts. “The broken souls are trapped in a fourth dimension. Locked in a world. I don’t know much about this since the spirits I’ve met, aren’t from this world.”
“Is that Hell then?”
April knew she’d probably asked these questions may times, she hearing her mother’s explanations comforted her. She could lie there all day, sinking into the gentle purr.
“‘Course not.” She chuckled, her arms jiggled like a doll’s. “Hell’s commercial mistake, too highly publicized. It’s simply terror food for the little kiddies.”
She paused, heaving in a new paragraph into her head.
“You’d believe in Jesus too, if you had a spiritual gun held to your head. Tsk, this business of eternal burning is nonsense! It’s ridiculous.”
* * *
The girl came back the following night.
“Hello dear.”
Sally greeted it. She had an uncanny confidence with things. She never believed in fearing the unknown. She’d rather face it, talk to it.
Burial grounds tremble.
Sally laughed. The cryptic speech was so different, to the nonchalant way she spoke. She found it a touch eerie, but kept that to herself.
Watch.
“Fuck. How-did-you…”
The plate-like face of the ghost, showed a pair of eyes. They grew red, piercing Sally’s head.
Blood does not comfort the voices of the dead.
A small golden string of fear ran in a rivulet down Sally’s leg.
The girl walked towards her, still tilting her head playfully. A small giggle escaped her. The arms became more muscular, growing definitions and mapped out veins.
“What exactly are your intentions, dear? You’re not upset with me, are you?”
The old woman eyes darted around like fish trapped in a small pond. The ball of wool grew wetter in her hand.
The girl grew stronger. Her voice deepened to a growl you’ll only hear at the end of a piano. Her movements were more determined, and forceful. Her voice rose to a deep, grinding bellow.
I’ll bury your ignorance into your wool.
This voice reverberated through her head, like a slow record speaking, declaring the end of you.
“Nooo.”
The girl thrust the knitting needles out of the girls hands. Wool and debris was thrown on the ground. She clamped Sally’s neck in a steel embrace, winding the wool around her neck.
“Don’t…do…this…” words crawled out of her throat with enormity of effort. She claw at her neck. Desperate to rake in a lasting breath.
The last clock ticks. It runs down the time glass. You are stuck in the middle.
The girl pinned down Sally’s arms, glued to the armrests. Palms up. The girl gave a deep gurgle, and sick laugh…slopping out a filthy throat. She drove the two needles into Sally’s lower arms. Blood spurted out, draining through her open fingers, dead with pain.
A carnal shriek, struggled out of Sally’s mouth. It escaped in a froth-filled gurgle. Panic laced the veins in her neck. The strip of wool sliced into her neck. The blood dribbled onto her dress, staining the innocent flowers.
Your choking amuses me, Sally.
She spoke her last sentence Sally would hear. It was in the voice of the girl. The pure voice left an intense snigger behind. The old woman barely heard her name, when she fell convulsing onto the floor. Her breath and splattered blood fought in a mad frenzy. Her limp figure slowly sank into a sleep as her lungs filled up with corrupted blood.
The girl bent down next to the corpse. She still had an ebullient presence, the youth never left her limbs, or enthralling voice. She stroked Sally’s hair with a soft hand, admiring her like a new doll. She never knew why her doll had such a painful face, when she’d been so friendly.
She frowned.
You’re my favorite anyway. She said hugging the dead head. If her face existed you would’ve seen a smile. She was happy. The girl had been waiting for someone to play with. Sally was so friendly, unlike the others. She knew that she’d be perfect.
I’m so happy. The girl exclaimed, with a giggled that rippled through the night.
PhilosopherPoet
My war with short stories
March 4, 2008By now if you’ve read bits of my blog you’ll see that I’m a poet. I write and read a lot of poetry. I’ve been doing that ever since I was ten years old, when I got weaned on W.B. Yeats. Although I really battle with stories, I just can’t finish them. I’ve got no problem with finding good characters, and a good plot, but I seem to be too nervous to carry out the final blow and end it.
A large part of it has to do with time. I’ve always preferred poetry, because you can sit down, and jot down something. A Story requires four or five times the amount of time, because, you’re using more words (duh, pretty obvious) and you’re taking more into account. There are more variables. I find that since I started off writing poetry, writing prose is easier since you don’t battle to come up with images, and sentences flow pretty easily from you.
Well, I’ve finally plucked up the courage to write AND finish a short story, there might’ve been one or two complete ones lurking in the past, but this one I’m proud of. I’ll confess it’s also a bit of an experiment. It’s a horror/thriller which is totally out of my genre, but its always good to experiment with new stuff. I’ve been reading some Stephen King at the moment which is an influence, be me being a horror junkie decided to put more violence into it.
The over all result is pleasing to me. I found it gripping exciting, and wonderfully dark towards the end. Again this is also a draft so I’ll probably change my mind about it sometime in the future. I like things to ferment before I actually put them apart, and this one is fresh from the Muse.
It should follow this post so enjoy! I’ll add my red warning sticker for sensitive viewers. I find it a necessary thing to do, since not every enjoys violence and/or wants to see it.
PhilosopherPoet
