Tag Archives: writing

Little Cry-Heart (50-Word Story Challenge)

“So let’s have a story, hun.”

“How about why do they call you Cry-Heart?”

“I heard it’s because she’s a widow.”

She smiled softly, “Runners called me that before he died. And I’m no widow. But if any man was going to claim this lady, it would have been him.”

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/04/07/writing-challenge-fifty/

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Update

Life has taken me away from writing for a bit, but I want to rectify that. Now that a move has gone well, and the girlfriend and I are settled in properly, I want to be much more active.

If you like anything I wrote, consider clicking this link.

http://www.patreon.com/theaphoticatrocity

It’s only a quarter a month, but if a thousand people decided they like something I wrote enough to give me a quarter…that’s several bills I don’t have to worry about. More importantly, a lot more time I can spend writing more for you.

The Dream I Just Woke From

It was intense and vivid. I seldom remember dreams, but this stuck with me, and I enjoyed the idea of it so much that I just had to write about it. For now, I am looking to record it, but I intend on actually making a story out of it.

I was back in the house I grew up in. Back in Virginia Beach. My entire family and their families were packed into this 1.5 story house. The living conditions were tense, and there was a lot of flexing between the men over decisions, because our existance was precarious.

The sky was dark most of the time. It was another hurricane. For some reason, hurricanes were permanent and everywhere. Imagine the globe covered with them, and they never dissipated. Nor did they move much. It was like hundreds of spinning tops that may bump into each other, may sway back and forth, but never left their vicinity nor ran out of steam. In some areas, the hurricanes were so bad that it left former countries uninhabitable, but in Hampton Roads, we could fight to survive.

What was dangerous, was not really the storms though. It was when the eye of the storm passed over you, that you were terrified. Because in that sudden calm, beings would come out and hunt. Some of them could be recognized as animals, but they had changed.

In the dream, during the first pass of the eye, I killed something in the large backyard we had. Something between a tiger and a wolf, I can not really give it any justice now as the dream is starting to be fleeting. I ended up rigging the creature’s top jaw as a weapon. The weapon worked as a ratching claw that was huge and took both hands to work. It was large enough to block with as a shield, but I could ratchet it forward and strike with a pair of fangs that were larger than a pair of bowie knifes. It almost mimicked a snake’s lunge.

For some reason, my using the weapon was some kind of issue between my father and I. It was a point of really intense arguement, though, so few words were actually said. My father’s wife, my stepmother, eased things and was intent on letting me keep it, as was who I believe was my girlfriend in retrospect. I did not get a good look of people in my dream, I just got a sense of who I was interacting with. Not everything was vivid, some of it was misty.

A second pass of the the eye happened. This time I was upstairs, looking through a large window, out across my backyard, the field behind it and the major parkway that was laid behind that. There was a small military convoy that was using the break in the wind to travel somewhere. There were a pair of vehicles that crossed first, they looked like a cross between a tank and a hum-v, but were not much bigger than a SUV. Following the vehicles were about half-a-dozen military men on foot.

Stalking behind the men, were two leopards. These cats were not normal leopards. The were enormous, hulking, prehistoric-looking monsters. Their front limbs were grotesquely muscular and met at a hunched portion of back. Their heads and teeth were much larger. They were more like a twisted vision of what sabre-toothed tigers were.

These leopards struck before anyone noticed them. Two of the six were down and being munched on before the gun fire began. As the sprayed down one leopard, the other double-backed around and took down a third man. As the three men left turned on the second leopard, one of the vehicles must have fired from out of view. The explosion took out the remaining men along with the leopard. They must have feared it that much to not even want to take a chance.

I stirred from sleep briefly, but I dreamed up one more scene. I left the house into the backyard again, armed. There was an animal crossing from our backyard into the neighbors. For some reason, I needed to kill and scavenge. It was not explained, but it just felt like something I had to do. I do not believe it was food, I had more making weapons out of claws and teeth in mind.

The hunt got interrupted by a new creature, and I knew it was there, but could not see it. I noticed my stepmother and girlfriend had come outside, and they were stuck in the same predicament I had found myself in. There was some kind of rule of mechanic in play with dealing with this unseen entity. Like I had to move a certain way in order to get by it.

That is as much as I can remember. I think the dream stopped there. The world this random dream conjured up was really intense and interesting. I think I might just have to do something with it.

Setting Fire to Heaven

Let’s set fire to heaven.

No polite knocking on pearly gates.

Peter’s drawing the ace of spades tonight.

You won’t keep me out of paradise.

Bring down all their pedestals,

Don’t give them anything to climb.

Don’t give them a chance to look down on you.

We don’t have to stay here.

Everything is dark here.

Want to find out what it’s like,

To feel that glorious light?

I bet you’d really like to know.

We’ve been suffering down here for so long,

That we forgot that we had hearts.

We used to smile.

Everything was once beautiful and innocent.

Let’s set fire to heaven.

Let’s make it ours.

Let’s make it shine ablaze like they never could.

And once it’s gone,

It’s gone forever.

They don’t get to hold it over our heads,

never again.

Then they get to share the dark,

With their forgotten brothers and sisters.

Let’s set fire to heaven.

Come, take my hand, beautiful.

Let’s dance on the ashes of angel wings.

Let’s make love on His throne,

and roll around on all those fluffy, white clouds.

They’ve kept me locked out for too long.

I’m going to set fire to your heaven,

and hang you by your halos.

Today is the last day,

until night is eternal.

Let’s show them they can’t control us.

Dance in their light,

until we stain their alabaster floors,

with the blood of our soles,

with the blood of our souls.

We came here to live life.

If you’ve never been alive before,

tonight is the night.

There’s a riot in heaven,

and no one will stop us.

We won’t let them again.

It’s been too long,

since we felt this kind of warmth.

Let’s right every wrong,

and wrong every right.

Let’s set fire to heaven,

and really be free for the first time.

It will be our first sunrise,

and their last sunset.

When we’re setting fire to heaven,

don’t forget to show mercy,

to those who couldn’t be here.

Some of us can’t set fire to heaven.

Some of us are locked away,

in an even darker Hell.

Steal the clean water,

from their pristine fountains.

Quench the thirst,

of those parched sinners.

When you set fire to heaven,

make it burn bright.

Let it shine in the darkest corner.

Let there not be one shadow,

on this, the most glorious of nights.

Remember what it’s like to smile.

Remember what it’s like to feel good.

Remember the night we set fire to heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

Drabble #1

Little King

 

   I am a King. A King in my family’s name, who reigns over my family’s land. My castle lies in a peaceful sea of hope and dreams. My castle is serene, majestic, and great. Greater still is the feathered serpent who guards it. A shimmering dragon stitched together with the tender love that only a mother knows. The shore is far, but love is known. Only one tower of my castle is lit, but good company is known as well. My foundation is powerful; every stone is a memory. Even the stones I regret, helped in the end.Image

Scary Lullaby to Lull You By

I came by something fun and decided to dust it off. Here is a creepy poetry reading I recorded many years ago. Be sure to sit alone, in the dark, while you read along to the audio file.

https://soundcloud.com/aphoticatrocitiesinc/reading/s-8VR9P

 

You’re going to receive a special treat.

A feast for the senses, just for you.

It’s why I’m named the way I am.

A dirty little secret that I’ll share with only you.

I am He Who Walks Without Light.

I am The Aphotic Atrocity.

To explain why, we’ll play a game.

A very old game.

First we have to cast a spell.

Nothing too difficult, just say these words,

Ditatchi vera emusriam.

You said it in your head, now say it old loud,

So everyone can hear you.

Now turn off the lights,

And sit in the dark.

You can light a candle if you’re too scared.

Now say it again, out loud,

So everyone can hear you.

Even the people you can’t see,

Standing right beside you.

Too creepy?

Well, that’s just too bad,

‘Cause there’s no turning back.

We’re with you now.

You’re becoming a bit ill at ease.

The air has a different chill to it now.

Doesn’t it?

We’re breathing on you.

We can’t wait to taste you.

Ditatchi vera emusriam.

You read it again, didn’t you?

I guess you really do want to play.

We can almost touch you now.

You can almost feel those long, cold, black tongues on your skin.

It’s like an oil on your skin that you can’t get off, isn’t it?

Is the room getting smaller?

Or are you just getting nervous?

Do you feel sick yet?

Do you know you’re not alone in that dark room?

Maybe you think this is just a joke?

Sure, he’s just manipulating me to feel a certain way.

Ditatchi vera emusriam.

Or maybe your body is trying to tell you something.

It’s screaming at you, can’t you hear it?

Get away.

Run away.

It’s coming.

It’s here.

It’s going to hurt you.

IT’S GOING TO FUCKING EAT YOU!

Dear me, you’re shaking now.

Have I said too much?

Are you bent on just walking away?

Closing the window will make you feel better, right?

You don’t get to escape.

I’ll always be with you now.

Every time it’s dark,

I’ll be the hand hovering over your head.

I’ll be the eyes in front of you while you sleep.

I’ll be the teeth nipping at your heels.

Why?

Because I can.

They taught you how you’re supposed to be good.

They told you how to shun evil.

But no one told you what to do,

When it’s standing right behind you.

But I’ll tell you,

How to feel a bit relieved.

All you have to do is say out loud,

You scare me.

And I’ll take my hands off of your shoulders and walk away.

But I’ll be watching you, sweetie.

And don’t you dare forget,

The name that belongs to those eyes.

I am He Who Walks Without Light.

I am The Aphotic Atrocity.

Ditatchi vera emusriam.

Good night.

A Bit of the Story’s Universe (Part 1.5)

   I decided to share some of the character archetypes that exist in this world. Sometimes, I like the idea of a sidenote to explain what a character would not naturally go into detail about in a first-person view. It feels more real for the main character to refer to something that he or she considers common knowledge without forcing in an explaination.  Many of these concepts come from a table-top roleplaying game that I have been slowly designing for years. The more I add to it, the more numbers I have to crunch to try to keep an entire universe balanced. It can be pretty nerve-wracking, but table-top games will always have a fond place in my heart. I grew up with FASA’s Shadowrun and now own a fairly extensive collection of the older White Wolf books. Even if it did not bring me any fame or fortune, just the thought of being able to one day walk into a store and see my own book on a shelf makes me ecstatic.

  • Sin Drinker” – There is no collective name for these men who have gazed too deeply into the abyss. They have taken it upon themselves to absorb monsters through ritual; weaving them into their very essense in order to pursue their goals. They vary as widely as the possible combination of creatures they can possess. This great host of abilities also can come with terrible consequences. The minds of the imbibed still exist and can struggle for control of their fused bodies eternally. Only addled intelligences and collaborators surrender quietly. Even those of the greatest wills and mental fortitudes eventually succumb to the daily onslaught on their sanity as they add to their monstrous repertoire in pursuit of achieving Chimera. Because of this, the technique is often banned or shunned in most cultures.

        Chimera” – A perfect fusion. All minds, bodies, strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and ineptitudes compliment each other to form a juggernaut of immense power without the crippling battle to retain one’s mental and physical coalescence. Many believe this to be no more than a pipe dream.

  • Tamer – With diligence and training, Tamers seek to domesticate magical beasts to do their bidding. In some cities, many monsters have become established pets, beasts of burden, guards, and hounds through their efforts. Tamers also serve as embassadors and negotiators with creatures of an intelligence too great to subdue.
  • Invoker – This class seeks to dominate monsters through less mundane means. Though the methodology varies on culture and religion, Invokers use incantation to bind beasts to physical objects such as crystals or talismans. Unlike Tamers, Invokers do not need to train or domesticate their catch, nor are they limited by the monster’s mental capacity. Bound monsters are slaves to their Invoker’s commands and can be conjured at will. Beings of incredible essense or willpower can summon the strength to break their entrapment or resist altogether. Some more devious types have been known to bide time in their entrapment until an opportunity arises to shatter their bounds and slay the Invoker.
  • Patchworkers” – These men have used technological aspirations in an attempt to circumnavigate the innate crutches associated with “Sin Drinking”. By grafting on or replacing portions of their body with the parts of monsters, Patchworkers seek to gain heightened physical prowess and the innate abilities of the associated “piece”. Technologically advanced culture is scarce in this world, but the influence of these technocracies can stretch across continents. Their clout has created black markets and “chop shops” which deal with illegal and valuable parts of creatures. Some Patchworkers are walking behemoths who look like Frankenstein’s monsters while others can simply be a clique of teenagers who are following a fad to have cat-like eyes. Rejection of the foreign body can occur when dealing with esoteric monsters or too many modifications. This can result in various adverse, sometimes gruesome, effects.