Tag Archives: Writery

[Carnival] Transpatial configurautomaton.

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“Stupid horse. Stupid cat.”

His nose burned. A lot. His back ached. A lot. His knees were sending lightning bolts of pain up and down his legs. A lot. And this gods-forsaken carousel horse was still on his back. And he’d walked a total of five miles in a generally eastward direction.

“Mother beetches.”

He unceremoniously dropped the wooden piece of art (it really was beautiful) onto the sidewalk. He stretched and grinned as about twenty pops resounded from his back. It was one of those nights where you just don’t say that it can’t get any worse, because it will.

“Well, at least it can’t get any worse.”

That’s when the Mack truck hit him. No, seriously. A big, 18-wheeled, Mack truck. Smacked right into him. It surprised him too. He wasn’t as surprised as the driver was when he discovered that Dragon wasn’t meaty chunks on the pavement. The semi rolled to a halt, and Dragon peeled himself off of the grill of the truck.

The driver blinked. He didn’t quite understand what he saw. His rational mind told him that something like this couldn’t exist, and was purely impossible. His instinctive side told him, “Run you stupid fuck!”. He just kind of stood there, torn. That was when the war hammer inverted the left side of his skull.

A hulking thing bellowed into the night, celebrating its kill. Its neck was far too long for it to be human, that and the slightly wedge-shaped head. It stood upright, though, and grasped a war hammer in a five-fingered (although scaled and taloned) hand.

No one credible believed their eyes when they saw the figure flapping lazily through the sky on scaled wings, holding a brightly-painted carousel horse in its feet, heading vaguely eastward.

[Carnival] It hurts. A lot.

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You’d not believe how much it hurts when you apply Taco Bell hot sauce to a gash on the inside of your nose. You’re going to have to trust me when I say that it hurts a lot.

Ever since they’d left Caro, Dragon had slipped into the facet of his personality that most closely resembled his waking self. It hadn’t an entirely purposeful slip. Rather, it had been brought about by the desire to discover where he fit on this new totem pole, as well as his general lack of understanding of what was going on around him. Simply put, he was like this when he was unsure.

The good Doctor was inside having a cup of coffee with the mad craftsman. James and that… that… cat.. were at the restaurant. Songflower was defiantly not speaking to him after he had called Smoky a “paltry excuse for a defender of the border between the living and the dead”. She didn’t seem to know why she was pissed off, but she was. Dragon got out of the back seat and leaned against the back of the car and lit up a Djarum unfiltered from a tin deftly hidden in his armored trench coat.

This bit, with the Carousel horse, this was going to be important to him. He was supposed to be the Rides Master, after all. Spice up the old rides. Make new, thrilling, rides. And above all, design a roller coaster. Specifications and designs kept flitting in and out of Dragon’s mind, but none of those would work. Literally. They’d most likely defy the laws of physics and just sit there, not working. No, this aspect of the Carnival had to be coaxed out. It had to be grown, like a crystal grows, from the fire and ice of the Carnival. From that music that was the Carnival. Dragon took a deep drag on the clove and closed his eyes.

He could feel a City calling his waking self. He could feel his waking self calling out to others. He could feel the Carnival and its hold on him. He could feel the sting of the clove smoke on his tongue. Ah, how things change.

[Poem] Cars on the Train

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Other peoples’ rhymes and emotions and
bitching
streams into my ears form the Detroit radio
that I hold in such esteem
much like I hold my family and friends, and even
the place
where I come from through I always slip into
such a black mood when I return here.

Oh Lord and Lady help me find the strength to
survive the days between now and when
those words
can burst forth and change everything in an
instant and help me find the strength to not
patronize
my family; they just might understand this time.
Lend me yourself for just this moment.
Help me find the wisdom to do what’s right.

I hate depression and what it does to me. I hate
the feeling of tears brimming under my contacts.
I hate feeling helpless and stuck and isolated and
hating
myself and that ever-growing circle of friends
and family. Is it being depressed or hating
the depression that makes me hide in sleep?

I wonder if I’ll ever solve the
puzzle
of my internal mutually exclusive dichotomies.
My existence on both ends of the spectrum. The wall I
feel between thought and emotion, the hate and love I
feel for myself, the import I place on
dreams
that I can’t hope to ever remember.

[Poem] Changing Us

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Would it change us, for me to let her know?
Would it end this depression, this hurt and loathing
that I have inflicted on myself of late?

Would it drive her away, make her so nervous and
uncomfortable that she’d never want to see me again?
Would I lose her forever?

I doubt that there’s even a question.
It always pushes itself out of me.
It always demands to be known.

And I’m leaving her for a better job.
I’m leaving everyone that I know.
I’m leaving her.

This makes me nauseous.

[Fiction] Joshua in Ohio – I

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Bloody wankers, the lot of them. No more than twenty minutes in this new city, and already he was being dragged into their life and death struggle with the oh-so-evil enemy. None of the idiots understood where the true enemy lay. No one REALLY read any of his poetry. No one except his sister. And that bloody wench was here too. And they were both ridiculously rich. Again.

“Look, sister, you’re not listening to me.” Well, she wasn’t, not completely. “I don’t give a bloody rat’s ass how much money we’ve got; why did you drag me to this bloody hellhole and get me involved in their moronic politics again?!” Ok, so they’d never been THAT rich before, and he did care about the money just a little bit. It didn’t help that she was giving him her “Oh, Joshua, how could you be so stupid” look. Joshua sighed, then rested his head on the table. Cleveland. It made perfect sense, really. Here, the shit had already hit the fan. Here, they could conduct their business without too many prying gazes. If this had been a peaceful city, like London was, there would be no end of neonates with open gazes and high hopes meddling in the affairs of a couple of ancillae. Especially when those ancillae shared a sire. Especially when that sire had just been made an Archon. Bloody git.

“Joshua, despite your insistence upon ridiculous strings of profanity, you do have a point. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” Oh, that condescending bitch! “I have everything under control. If my plan works, you won’t have to suffer, at least not much, for more than a couple of months.” Joshua just glared. It was really the only thing he could do. His sister was already caught in another conversation about how the locals could use her influence with the Giovanni family to secure Cleveland’s dock area from their enemies. Ha! Good bloody luck. They should know that the Giovanni always sold weapons, and, hell, loyalty, to both sides in this war. Moneylenders, the lot of them.

He only paid slight attention to those around him. There was a gnat of a clanmate that needed to be taught the proper respect. There was a meeting to plan the next phase of the war here, and it was being held on a boat, of all places. Perfectly secure. Wankers. After the first few assaults, they’d learn. Public places. Places with many exits and entrances. Escape and survival, not Custer’s last stand. Bah. Half-drifting through social interactions, Joshua began to notice a disturbing trend in the crew. No exits. The crew seemed to be almost too comfortable around his compatriots. There was always that unnatural suspicion and creepiness that servants like these felt around them. And this was completely absent.

The typical local drama surfaced. The new acting Prince, past Seneschal, revealed himself to actually be the old Prince in disguise, yadda yadda yadda. Joshua ignored this and pondered over a map of Cleveland. There was something contrived about these battle plans. Unlike the frantic, yet effective, planning that had gone no in Lansing, every detail was brought up and squabbled over. Like those in power already knew how the battle was going to go. They were all acting out pre-written parts in an undead soap-opera, and none of them had a bloody inkling. Not a goddamn clue. Perhaps his sister’s plan would work. Not that he’d admit it to her face, but he just might go along with it.

[Poem] Whining

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I’ve been told I’m whining about how good my life is.
Sometimes, you just need to hear the words “don’t go”.

Now I’ve heard them said with meaning and feeling
Yes, I’m fragile and human enough to need that.

Visions of a loft apartment above a warehouse in
downtown Detroit beckon me to uncertainty.

And next to me, she says, “bring me my salad,
or I’ll kill you,” and I can’t help but grin.

I’ve had my interview, geek-talked for two
hours, and they still haven’t decided.

She asked me not to leave today, and it pushed
its way out of her like when I told Red that I loved her.

Of all the promises I’ve made to come up
on a regular basis, the one to her means the most.

God damn, I need a clove.

[Poem] Doorway

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All my ties to this city have been neatly
cut
and tied off in bows.
My anger and rage bubble forth unctrollably
as I snap at people that I will
leave
without a second concern or moment’s thought.
It’s finally putting a name and a
finish
on the creeping alienation that I never knew I’d
started, let alone fed scraps to like a stray dog.
Money
and too much humiliation bring my fists to balls
and hasten my step out the door into the
city
that I never really knew I lived in.
There’s only one person that will keep a part of
me
in this place, and now she holds the title “friend”,
because it’s best for both of us.

I’ll cry before I leave.

[Poem] Laughing Again

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I’m not a poet, she said
I can’t say pretty things, like that, she said.
I smiled at her, because she just had.

My inside-city is beautiful in its moonlight
And towers majestically in the noon sun
I wander its maze wearing a grin.

I am a large man, in shape and presence
I am a good man, in emotion and deed
I am a man, and knowing this grounds me.

My war hammer taps my leg as I walk
Aching to be used, now that it’s out.
I pat it fondly, my rage and anger.

I have found patience, in my heart.
I have found solace, in my city.
I have found myself, within myself.

My wings flex and stretch, yearning for flight
Achievement has always made me feel good
I fall off the cliff, laughing like a madman.