Thursday, December 31, 2009


   “Master Ethan, can you tell me what happened the night I arrived here?” Lariah fixed her aged master with a very direct stare as she waited for a response taking note of how his eyes narrowed and the lines now covering his face seemed to tighten. He was preparing a pot of tea with an unhurried grace as though he had forever to get the job done.
   “I can tell you little that you do not know already, young one.” He looked at her hiding his examination of her under his peaceful veneer. She still looked like she had not aged a day past 25. Since the night she had arrived Lariah had grown into a stunning woman with elf like poise and grace. It was still hard to believe that the small pail skinned baby had grown to be a woman just over two meters tall with hair so blond it appeared white, and eyes that were a piercing light blue. Taken as a whole, this young woman was stunning and she had long ago taken to wearing a covering over her face when ever she went to town to avoid the stares of the local men. Lately there seemed to be a change in her. It was only noticeable when he carefully watched her. While she is always a wonderful student and a compassionate aid in the local town, there was a difference deep inside her of late; if he could just put his finger on it.
   “I know someone left me at the steps of the monastery 20 years ago, but I would like to hear everything you remember about that night, any detail might be a clue or a piece I can put in the puzzle some time in the future.”
   “You are worried that my time in this plane is coming to an end and you want the details before I move on, is that it?” The old master grinned and poured the hot water into the pot containing a mixture of spices that would take the edge off of the ache in his old bones.
   “That is a rather morbid way of putting it, but yes, my interests are along those lines,” Lariah replied after a short pause. She rose from the table crossing the room to pick up two small cups then returned to her seat as she placed them on the table. Lariah waited patiently while the man took his seat across from her and filled each cup placing the pot off to the side. He muttered a short incantation and waved his hand at the incense burner igniting the contents and releasing the soothing scent of herbs. He picked up his cup and after taking a sip, he leaned back, his eyes glazing over slightly as he began to recall the events of that evening.
The night had been like any number of others that Ethan had been out on watch even though there was truly no fear of the monastery being attacked or robbed, but having someone on guard helped teach him and his fellow students a practical way to apply the discipline of body and mind that they focused on each day. He kept his mind clear using the same methods that he applied to spell casting to allow him to notice any changes in the sounds of the night. He moved with silent grace more for the practice than the need. There is a wonderful chorus to be heard in the dark if one took the time to listen and being alone in the dark like this was something he enjoyed immensely. He moved slowly around the inside of the monastery walls taking in the sights of the beautifully sculpted tree and gardens, reveling in the background music played so masterfully by the crickets and frogs that came out as the sun descended.
   Something, some out of place sound in the dark, caused Ethan to freeze in mid step, and he turned his head slowly trying to locate what anomaly and grabbed a hold of his unconscious. The adrenaline rush that sped up his heart was causing a problem, all he could hear was the racing of his heartbeat in his ears drowning out the symphony he had been immersed in. He deliberately slowed his breathing and forced his heart to quiet itself as he continued to stain to hear the sound once more. He could still hear all the crickets and frogs so whatever it was that he had noticed managed not to disturb them at all. After several minutes he considered the fact that he could have been mistaken, but years of training taught him to pay very close attention to his instincts and unusual feelings.
   He closed his eyes and whispered a quick invocation creating an orb of power in front of him. With eyes still closed he willed the orb to move away from him and towards the front gate a few dozen meters from where he stood. With practiced ease he changed the way he viewed the world so that he was now seeing everything the orb could see. As the orb floated swiftly towards the opening in the wall he vision went with it. Ethan’s quick eye for detail immediately noticed the small bundle in the middle of the path and he will the ob closer to study it. It was a bundle of skins, not local ones he noticed, but the white coloring gave rise to the possibility that it was a fur from one of the white wolves of the north. As he watched the bundle it seemed that it moved a little, but he took the time to explore the entire area outside the gate before releasing his extended sight and opening his eyes. There was no sign of anything outside, no tracks, no unusual shadows, no bent blades of grass, and no one rushing away from the area so he decided to approach the parcel to find out what was inside.
   When he bent down and pulled the top of the fur back he found himself gazing at a beautiful baby girl not more than a few days old with crystal blue eyes and an alert gaze. He was stunned. The monastery was not a place to leave an orphan, which was more the churches business then the pastime of a group of monks that counted no females among their number. Someone had made a mistake, but he had no choice but to take the infant up in his arms and bring it in out of the chill of the night air. It appeared that a couple monks would be making a trip to the church in the morning to deliver the child to someone who could properly care for her. He went quickly to the grand master’s room to wake him and figure out how this would be handled.
   He knocked quickly on the door and when he was told to enter he stepped in to the small room closing the door behind him. He calmly relayed the story about finding the child and passed the baby to the aged grand master when he asked to see her. He stood waiting as the old man cast a diving upon the child.
   “She is to stay with us,” the old man said quietly. “I am unable to see all the details as clearly as I should, but it appears that this young one is to play an important part in the future of the realm. It is by no mistake that she was placed in our care.”
   Ethan nodded to acknowledge the order even as his mind spun at the unexpected reply.
   “Seek out any advice you may need from women in the village, but she is yours to raise and teach. She will be staying in your quarters for now.” The old master turned to put out the light waiting till Ethan left to look up at the ceiling of his room. “I have no idea what game you are playing at, but we will do out part,” he whispered to the heavens. He received silence in reply and shrugged before putting out his lamp and lying back down.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009


        She looks amazingly good like that. Her hands tied together and pulled up so high above her head that only her toes are touching the ground. Unclothed, her pale skin glistens with the effort she is putting into keeping her balance. Her large and perfect breasts pulled up high, her stomach stretched taut, heaving with her labored breathing. Desperation has begun showing in her eyes as the shock of her situation has worn off. It’s always about the eyes for me. I can see so much in peoples eyes and it shows me a glimpse of what people are really like or what the really want as plain as day, but I digress. We must return to the events unfolding with our beautiful captive.
         My eyes go back to their wonderful journey over my captives straining body. I stand in front of her, silent, my eyes taking in every tiny detail of her while letting her see me do it. I want her to see my examination or her. I want her to feel my eyes on her skin. My gaze travels once again down her stomach as I take in the beauty of muscles flexing under her perfect, pale skin. No hair at all on her body until my eyes finally reach her center. I pause here taking in this point of absolute perfection as she struggles to conceal her sex from my view.  I smirk at her efforts as she is forced to allow me to view her as I wish or continue to let her body pull down painfully on her shoulders and wrists. I devour this image taking in the contrast of her dark pubic hair against her pale skin. This point where her legs meet her torso is as perfect as I had hoped she would be.
         My eyes move leisurely back up her body to lock with her gaze catching that look of fear and embarrassed humiliation telling me just how deeply I have begun to affect her with my silent examination. There are tears wetting her cheeks now and her desperate fear has finally taken a hold of her senses adding to her already considerable beauty. There is nothing as stunning as the female body stretched taut and completely at my mercy, the tears just make it better.
         Now the questions and the yelling, this part bores me. They always ask the same droll questions; the same worn out phrases.
        “What is going on?” Her voice pleads to me for an answer.
         You seem to be hanging from the ceiling of my living room, dear. I answer in my head.
         “Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice cracks with this question.
         The simplest answer would be to tell that I am doing this because I like it, but that would be far too simple and would negate all that I want to teach you. Again not one word out loud.
         “I thought we were friends!” Now she thinks yelling at me will work better than pleading with me.
         We are friends, my dear which is why I picked you.
           I have answered all her questions yet not given her a single answer out loud. I continue to say nothing to her as I let her expend her energy and effort struggling for answers I will only give her when I deem she can have them, never in response to her desperate inquiries. She is allowed no control so naturally she gets no answers to any of her questions; whereas when I ask a question, I will get an answer! I will explain myself when I decide, and that’s if I decide to explain anything at all.
            Now I walk behind and out of her view to continue taking in the sights of her body. This action has the added effect of increasing her fear as well. The human mind has a wonderful ability to fill in the blanks when we lack information, and with this much fear added, this poor young lady will imagine all kinds of terrible possibilities for what I could be doing behind her. I smile with that thought; this IS supposed to be fun for me after all.
             Her dark curly hair falls over her shoulders and has been dampened with her sweat causing the ends to stick to her skin like hundreds of tiny fingers grasping at her nakedness. The muscles in her back are as taut as those in her stomach and they lead my eyes lower on her body. I am now taking in my favorite part of a woman’s body. Where the back ends and the legs begin is perfection.
            I have seen enough for now. She is pleading and crying to me, and the site of her in this condition, naked, defenseless and mine to control, is one of the most sexually exciting situations there could ever be. I move back in front of her and smile slightly before shutting of the lights and leaving the room, we will continue later on when I deem it is time. As I lay in bed drifting off to sleep I am serenaded by her sobs and pleas for help…..there is no more relaxing music in the world.

Friday, November 6, 2009

I am Vengence!

“I am vengeance!”

“I am fierce!”

“I cannot be stopped!”

Alex works his way towards his prey with slow steps. His body is alive with the power of the full moon, and his every movement is a display of deliberate action. Each month his body changed as the moon touched it giving him abilities beyond any simple mortal. On nights like this he could change shape becoming one with his animal self. This night was well suited for his crusade. He blends perfectly with his surroundings barely even moving the grass and bushes as he approaches the Appleton’s house. The darkness hides this predator. It aids his stealth with a comforting blanket of shadow. It was time for Alex’s neighbors to pay for what they did last week; the horror of it all still makes him shudder briefly.

He had watched frozen in place as the Ed Appleton had murdered the two brothers. It had been done behind the house so as to not attract attention, but no one had seen Alex there. It had been several minutes of cutting and cracking, the bastard even took the time to skin them before going back into the house! Alex stood transfixed as Ed, his wife, and his ten year old son Phil took the bodies inside. Alex couldn’t believe that even Phil was involved with this mess. Alex finally found himself able to move and crept close to the house only to discover that his neighbors, his “friendly and respectable” neighbors were about to eat the two brothers. This entire family had gone insane!

“Stay Focused! The atrocities dealt out in this house of evil must be avenged, and I am the only one powerful enough to complete this task.” Alex was getting closer to his objective and strained to notice any detail that could give him away. He moves around the rake left in the yard, pointed up like someone was preparing for a cartoon stunt to take place. He admires his dexterity as he dodges the sprinkler and just manages to keep himself from tripping on the hose. There is no noise other than the quiet crunch of the grass under his feet as he moves around the grill and up to the pack patio. His vengeance, his hate, his mighty rage cannot to sated with anything less than the grizzly revenge he had planned for this evening.

He had to be careful now; the back door loomed before him like the aluminum door to Hades itself! (As a note, Alex was not sure Hades had added a screen or even the polished brass trimmings like this door had.) This is where the waiting game began. His revenge would begin with the first family member to exit the back door. The crickets kept up their chorus with the nearby frogs adding a deep base, fitting sounds for the symphony of destruction that Alex was about to unleash. An hour passes, then two, “what is taking so long!” Then he felt it; that shudder in the foundation of a house that you feel after you hit the doorbell telling you of the approach of another. The dead bolt clicks and the handle turns. Alex readies himself no mortal can handle the fierce attack he is about unleash! The door swings open and Phil steps out into the darkness with the waiting monster and freezes. Alex attacks with all his speed and strength hoping to make the first kill a quiet one, but his hopes of stealth are dashed as Phil calls out.

“Dad there is a turtle at the back door,” Phil yells.

Ed’s voice carries from the living room, “what do you mean?”

“I mean a turtle, Dad. It’s moving right at me waving its arms and stuff. It doesn’t look like one of the snapping turtles we made into soup last week though.”

“Well put it back out by the pond then,” came the reply.

“Can I keep it? I have that old cage from the snake we had”

“I don’t care as long as you take care of it.”

“Sweet!” and just like that Phil defeated Alex; the world’s only wereturtle by picking him up and walking away with him. Revenge for the turtle soup will have to wait till the next full moon.

Thursday, November 5, 2009


Will and Jason had been watching the house for two whole days now and there had not been a single sign of life the entire time. The mail was piled up in the mailbox, newspapers soaking up the rain at the front door. They had seen lights come on inside, but after the second day they had realized that the lights were on a timer; not turned on by someone in the house. There were no dogs, no signs of a security system, no random company, no police, and most importantly, not a single neighbor anywhere near this place.

Will grabbed the bag with the crowbar, bump key and the other tools while Jason grabbed two large backpacks. Jason shot the only street light out with a pellet gun they had picked up on their last job. They crossed the street and went up the driveway at a fast walk, pausing at the shadows by the front door. It took less than ten seconds for Will to get the door open with the bump key and the two figures moved inside the entrance, politely locking the door behind them.

They paused for a moment to take in their surroundings and were stunned by what they saw. This place is amazing. The entryway opens up into a huge living room that boasted several large pieces of art, antique-looking furnishings, a huge and not so antique plasma TV and sound system built into the walls. There was a fish tank built into the wall leading towards the dining area that must have held over 500 gallons of water!

Will went right to work on the sound system and began pulling the components out of the wall as Jason moved deeper into the house. Room after room was like the first: sculptures and photos and art. One room was full of sports collectibles. Jason’s trained eye knew what they could sell for money and what would be too much of a pain to unload no matter what it was worth. Everything that could be carried easily he packed into a bag with quiet efficiency. The first bag full, he turned to go and stack it in the living room when he heard a startled cry from Will. He immediately dropped the bag and sprinted to the front of the house, pulling out his 9mm pistol.

What he saw when he arrives is terrifying! Will is crumpled up on the floor, already lifeless. Blood still pouring out of the huge gash in his neck but it had already stopped being pushed by a beating heart. Jason scans the room looking for who had done this to his partner, but sees no one. He moves closer to the body to get a better look at what had happened and is stunned to see that Will looked like someone had tried to take his head off with an axe.

Jason’s head whips up as he hears the sound of metal on metal back down the hall that he had just run up. He snaps the gun up in that direction and waits as his body jolts into high gear from the rush of adrenalin. All is quiet for several minutes, allowing him to finally decide that he is going to kill this guy for what he did to Will. He slips through the house in search of his hidden opponent, years of experience keeping his steps from making any noise without him even having to think about it. Suddenly he hears the metal noise again, this time from somewhere behind the last door in the hall.

How foolishly typical, he thought. He kicked the door open bringing the gun up to chest height as he did, but there is no one there, just well-lit stairs leading down to what looked like a large basement. He moves quickly down the stairs and is met by the strangest sight. There are all kinds of swords, knives, and guns on the walls encased in glass display cases. There are close to twenty suits of armor standing patiently on their pedestals like long forgotten sentinels of some ancient crypt. He stood there stunned for a moment at the sight, and in that moment everything went sideways.

All but a few of the lights suddenly blink off. That same sound of metal that he had heard before, the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath, came from just a few steps behind him. He spins, trying to bring his gun around in time, but is greeted by the completely bizarre sight of a man dressed head to toe in medieval armor thrusting a sword at his chest. His mind freezes for a fraction of a second trying to come up with an explanation for what it is seeing, and it is that fraction of a second that cost him everything. The sword, meant to battle armored opponents, slides easily into his chest and out his back. Jason’s arms went limp and he hears the gun fall to the ground, as he stands staring into the eyes of a crazed man in armor.

This is way too strange, he thinks as the man pulled the sword out of his chest and disappeared into the shadows.

Jason knew he was out of time as he slumped over on his side. The whole night had been one big mistake ending with, well, soon to be two people dead. At least Will died fast, lucky bastard; he looked down at the blood pumping out of his chest where the sword had run him through, this hurts more than you would think. As his vision started to get cloudy he rolled his head to the left for one last look around the museum like room. In the quiet darkness, Jason’s choking laugh was startlingly loud; the irony of what he was looking at was not wasted on him. He spent his last seconds in this world looking at a perfect replica of some European castle….a damn castle! It had been painstakingly built piece by piece complete with a bridge, tiny figures of men on horseback, and even little cloth flags at the tops of the towers. Jason’s last chuckle turned into that long sigh of the dead as the armor clad figure stepped back into the light and heard the doomed man whisper his last words, “a man’s home.”

Thursday, October 29, 2009

A Perspective on War

There is a small percentage of the population that actually understands death and makes an easy friendship with it. These are the great heroes who slay the enemy, but are shunned when “normal” life begins again. These people have had a taste of war and find it difficult to change back to the pleasant naivety or every day life. They become angry at those they defended when they find them unwilling to listen to or understand them. So why not begin a different kind of war, something easy for those few to understand and still helpful?

Cops can only go so far, they are restricted by a screwed up set of rules that does more to keep criminals out of jail or out of the grave, then it does to keep the law abiding citizens of the world safe. Even so called “black ops” has to answer to somebody. We have a growing subculture of highly trained soldiers, with a taste for killing our enemies, and the need for a chance to keep busy, and yet no one considers how to effectively use them to protect our country.

I say go the Swordfish route! Let them find a way to finance themselves, provide them with connections to gun runners and illegal arms dealers, and cut them loose. If it gets done correctly you can have a group of motivated people who act independently of a set of rules that can take the fight to the enemy. They get their own fake passports, there own weapons, they can set up their own intel network all the while allowing the government to maintain a plausible deniability.

There is a show on TV right now that has three men who track down wanted terrorists, it would be so easy to slip in after them and put 2 in the skull of every person inside the building. There would be an outcry of, “that’s not right,” and “we must find these people,” but how hard would they really search for them. The whole world has become fed up with watching terrorists and criminals go free or hold hostage entire neighborhoods. This could be put to an end.

The left wing, huggy feely types will ask how to make sure they don’t get out of control, but I say who cares! If they kill an entire village of people in Iraq I think I might shrug, but there would be no feeling of sadness. Children threw grenades in our trucks and stabbed our soldiers, why would I feel sad at their passing. Women stood by and let their kids and husbands wage war on us while they did nothing, again no sadness for the loss. The fathers were and are the perpetrators of the violence and the oppressors of the weak in middle eastern society, who rape their sons, fuck their cattle (as I have actually been witness to), or simply keep their mouths shut while others do these things.

These people understand only fear, and until we show them that we are to be feared they will not stop going after us. The terrorists will have homes as long as there are no repercussions for housing them, but wipe out a city block because someone hid one terrorist, and things suddenly change. Now the population will scream about the hiding places and the stashes of weapons or explosives just to keep themselves and their families alive. They would very quickly come to fear these agents of death. Alas this is not a war most people could ever stomach, it is only those that have met death on a street corner and found him to be both interesting and funny (and even comforting) that could wage this war. Those that tell stories most me cringe from. Death’s little helpers.