"Oh George, today has been the most wonderful day of my life." wispers Marsha in Georges ear. Please "I dont want this moment to end"
"Me neither my love" replys George. "For since I have met you my life has been wonderful. Before you my life was a big nothing." They kiss, softly and passionately. "Come my love we must make our way home, for we must leave early in the morning for Australia"
As they walked home slowly, holding hands and talking about all the thing that they would do in their new life in Australia. They did not notice a small weedy looking man following them. In their total happiness with each other had they had not seen Mr Sneed lurking in the corner shadows Mr Sneed, rich, ugly and very much in love with George himself.
Mr Sneed had made advances towards George, but George had rejected him. For George loved Marsha and Marsha loved George,
The green monster of jealosy welled inside Mr Sneed, "you will be mine boy! YOU WILL BE MINE!!" For his plotting and planning was about to come to be.
As George and Marsha Reached their appartment, George turned to Marsha and said "Marry me, be mine for always. I cant live without you. I would give my life for you, do anything that it takes to keep you safe." Marsha sobbed her joy, and nodded her consent to their marriage. In the shadows Ugly Mr Sneed was watching, "No George YOU WILL BE MINE, you will never again see your Prissy little Marsha unless you do as I say."
The following morning On their way to the Airport, Marsha and George were as happy as two people in love could be. "Just think said George, this time tomorrow we will be in Australia, away from all the troubles this town has brought us."
"Yes George, I have waited for this moment for a long time. Oh George!"
"Oh Marsha"
"Oh George let us hurry and get on the plane, the sooner we leave her the happier I will be."
They arrived at the check in counter, checked in their luggage, and headed off to gate 13. Mr Sneed was also on his way to gate 13. His plan was going well, they did not suspect a thing. For gate 13 had been his arrangement. Gate 13 would lead His George and that trollup to his private airline. But when you are the richest man in the world money can and will by you anything. Even the Security officers and the Booking staff.
"I must go and freshen up before bording my love, wait here for me." This was the moment Mr Sneed had waited for. He gave the signal for his men to follow poor ignorant Marsha, Beautiful Marsha. the woman how had Kept HIS GEORGE from him. It only took a minute or two and it was done, Masha was gone. Mr Sneeds assistant dressed in an Airline uniform went to George and told him Marsha would meet him on the plane. He went aboard the plane not realising his Marsha, his beloved, his life, was in great peril. On entering the plane the door slamed shut and a strange gas overtook him. He sank to his knees with thoughts of his beloved.
On waking he was in a large bed wrapped in satin sheets. Just then Mr Sneed walked in, "Good morning my love". A look of satisfaction was on his lips and in his eyes.
George tried to jump from the bed, But found he was restrained by a chain tied to his leg. "Where is Marsha, what have you done to my beloved Sneed. I told you I dont want anything to do with you, let me free and I will break you neck."
Sneed just laughed, and pushed a button on the wall, As the wall slid open, to Georges horror and sadness, he saw his Marsha, Chained to the wall. Her delicate wrists in cold chains instead of his warm embrase. Her eyes pleeding for his help, and realising he to was chained, wept with tears.
"You see!" Said Mr Sneed, I get what I want and there is now two ways about it. Either you be mine, and I let this pathetic creater live, as one of our Servants, Or both you and she Die."
Georges words of the previous night came crushing done on him. The words he spoke when he asked his beloved to be his forever. He had to save her He had no choice, but the thought of Sneed, made him sick. That crumpled ugly pathetic little beast. "Ill do what you want Sneed" George said, thinking of a way to save his Marsha. "But let Her go now".
Little did George know, that the image of his Marsha was just that, a holographic image. Little did George know, that when at the airport, on her way to freshen up, an airline attendant, approached Marsha and told her that there was a mix up with the gate numbers. She should go to gate 3 not 13.
On arriving at gate 3 she found her George, but it was not George. It was Georges clone. Sneed had planned this together with the evil scientist Maxwell. And an arangement was made between the two of them. The clone would get 5 million dollars, he would asume the Identity of George, he would have Marsha and the money. Sneed would get George, and after some Brain Washing George would forget Marsha ever egsisted.
Oh how happy Sneed was, Marsha was not aware of the switch, for the clone was an exact duplicate, in his speach, he knew everything about her and did and said every thing George did. The clone was well tutored.
George lived in misery, believing his Marsha was in great peril, Marsha lived a happy and contented life blissfuly unaware of what had befell her beloved real George. The clone, well a clone is a clone. No feeling, of its own, just the feeling taught to it my its master.. Sneeds attempts a brain washing were never a success, his greatest tool was the hologram of That cow. he knew she was gone, out of his life but damn it if his Georgy worgy, didnt think of her each night. He would have to think of a way to change this. For he was rich and powerful, and use to getting his own way.
"You will be totaly mine George, you will you will or my name is not Ebanizer Sneed"
The author comments, " I hope you enjoy this little tale, it was fun to write."
Especially after the plastic surgery and fiberglass reiforcements. Her mom had bribed the judges to make sure that Beverly would remain on the squad ,no matter how bizarre or twisted her behavior became. Everything was fine when Beverly set fire to her own underwear while leading a cheer , but the judges could no longer look the other way when Beverly began disemboweling live animals on the sidelines as a symbol of what her team would do to their rivals . "Damm" , she complained , "all I was doing was trying to inspire the team".
The author comments, " SOmetimes it is and sometimes it does ."
"Grandpa, why are the claws shining?" Tina asked her grandpa, the best story-teller
she has ever heard of! It was a beautiful, normal day on the island, and she
was enjoying it with her little brother and dearest grandfather, looking at
the crabs he had caught that day. "Well Tina, I was always told, that they symbolize
the secret power to possess the souls of those they touch. Now, mind you-"
"Oh no! no no no no no no no...." Little Derek started wailing "Listen-" Old
George tried to reason. "Shut up Derek! It's just a myth...it's just a mmmyy..."
Sudenly, Tina's eyes turned sea blue, and her skin white as snow. She seemed
as if her spirit had flown away, and her body left behind. "Tina! TINA!" Screamed
Little Derek, as he dropped the crab and raced to his non-existent sister's side.
Not long after, however, all three of the humans were engulfed in the crab-world,
unable to comabat the evil powers, of the sorceress of the sea-world.
The author comments, " Lovely Contest Baby!"
Wiping away her tears, she started to think rationally. First, she had to point out the guilty one. The evil convict who staged her as the one who hit Ms. FlubberSmiztch, before it was too late! Being kicked off the squad was a worse offense than messing up her hair!
So, the evil-doer must be put to shame before it attacks another innocent bystander! "I am just the one to solve the case too.." Bev thought to herself. For, not only was she pretty, popular, and rich, she was Beverly Iwill-Crakit, the best teen-detective on this side of the Continental US!
The author comments, "Hope you like it!"
It was what they called a "mixed marriage". He, a born again Hassid, raised in the
Pennsylvania Dutch Country, bearing a vague resemblence to Mr. French. She, an
exiled Norwegian Princess who's parents had immigrated to Sardinia during "the war",
had been abandoned at four, and left on the steps of a convent, where she was raised to
be a nun. Somehow, both families found their way to the suburbs.
That's how, one cold, snowy Shabbas afternoon in March, against all odds, across a fountain in a crowded shopping mall in Bayonne, New Jersey, their eyes met. As if in a trance, they gravitated in ecstasy towards each other. "I love your hat", she exclaimed. She couldn't help but notice the bulge below his belt. His heart fluttered with arrythmia, and her arthritic knees began to buckle as hot, seething juices began to pulsate from places she didn't know existed. They both knew immediately that at last, that they had found their soulmate.
"Didn't you just say he was dashing?" Bartholomew asked, with a quizzical expression.
"Don't give me that quizzical expression." she replied with a glare. "Next you'll be making fun of my throaty chuckle."
"Actually I was going to make fun of your name." he stated. "But honestly, how can he be so wretchedly common if he's dashing?"
"Very well, he isn't dashing." she retorted.
Suddenly, without warning eighteen killer rabbits from Mars burst into the room and attacked both Bartholomew and Zinnia, chanting "The day is here! Bring forth the Lords of Cheese!"
"Damn!" exclaimed Bart. "The author has run out of stupid things to write and has resorted to the killer rabbits!"
The author comments, "I am not on drugs."
I had seen broads like Gia Gondola before - Miami's full of 'em. But
when a broad constructed of nothing but legs, attitude and a wide-brimmed
hat stalks into your office unannounced and drops a baby alligator on
your desk, you sit up and take notice."Well, now, that's quite a little man eater you got there." I noted.
"What? This little ol' baby gator?" she demurred. "
'Scuse me, miss, but I was speakin' to the gator. Now, how can I help y'all?" I asked. And with that she shot me through with and icy stare from the greenest eyes that ever pinned a man to his seat. Uneasily, I asked again," Well, Ma'am?"
"Am I to take it then, that you are done conversin' with the reptile, Mr. Fallon?" she purred.
"That would all depend on if you had somethin' you'd like to say to me, Miss, ahh..guess I didn't catch the name." I said.
" I didn't toss it, Mr. Fallon, but it's, Gia, Gia Gondola." she threw the name out like it was supposed to mean something to me. Actually, it did; just as it meant something to about everybody else in this wicked little town. Yeah, Gia Gondola, nee Charpentier, heiress to a vast condom empire. It was said that her that her Grandfather, Claude Charpentier, controlled most of the latex reserves on three continents and condom futures would rise or fall with the least wink or nod from the old codger.
Yep, control was Claude's game. There were only two things in this world that meant a damn to old Claude, and that was power and his granddaughter, Gia. Ironically, she was about the only thing in his mean and stingy life that he couldn't control. And the scary thing was, that he didn't seem to mind that at all. No, in fact he seemed to enjoy the wild seed that he set forth among men. And Gia, was indeed a formidable woman. A long legged, buxom, redheaded beauty among beauties, she was as much admired as she was feared and now, here she was, a looming presence in my office, studiously taking my measure, and wondering if i was even worth bothering with. At this point the ol' gator was lookin' like safer if not more pleasant company.
The author comments, "hey, this is fun!"
She looked back over at him. He was waking up,"Good morning Jonathan", she said.
"Same to you" he replied and yawned. "I've got a big day planned for us today, first, I'll give you a tour of the city, then we can have dinner at the finest retaurant in town". That's exactly what they did, it was a day full of fun and excitement,and in the evening when they were back at his house and she was looking into his eyes she thought that maybe she would like him after all.
Although grandly appelled Fortescue Manor by its original owners, the
townspeople still referred to the aging structure as Jezebel's Den,
although the tragic events therein had reached their conclusion decades earlier.
There were many rumors about what had taken place in that grand mansion, but noone really
knew the truth.No one except the key players of that sordid affair themselves. It was believed by most that a certain aristocrat (name withheld for libel purposes) had taken to picking up various women from the outskirts of town to bring them back to his very elaborate establishment and seduce them. One (ahem) lady he'd had a fancy for had been brought up to live with him for a few months before all the bizarre happenings started. It was she the townspeople referred to as Jezebel.
You see, it wasn't out of the ordinary for a man of such means to persuade women to do what he wished of them, but for a women to do the things she did...that was an abomination. In a society of cutthroats she was perhaps the most ruthless and no doubt the most appealing. There used to hang above the massive fireplace in the dining hall a portrait of that woman, until after the twisted events when angry folk took matters into their own hands and burned the beautiful portrait, arguing amongst themselves whether or not to burn down the entire building and every "tainted" thing in it. Anyway it so happens that the lady (name withheld for obvious reasons) fled the wrath of those citizens only to end up a legend, a story whispered about in dark corners of even darker rooms.
She had red hair of auburn fire and haunting emerald eyes. She had a mysticism about her and an even more mysterious allure. This woman could get anything she wanted, and always did. The legend says that after running from the town of Clarity, she sought to find refuge in the nearby town of Chance. Well, a woman of such beauty clearly would be noticed and their were many people still looking for her. They wanted her dead. She did not stay in Chance but went instead even further, never stopping until 3 months later in a town called Independence. Dead, not because she deserved to be dead, for she was innocent of the crime they'd accused her of. They needed someone to blame for the sins of the town and she was their scapecoat. Only 19 years of age she had beguiled a wealthy aristocrat and made it her mission to change the laws of society. In those days a woman could not own any property, was in fact a slave to her own husband...a slave to the ways of the world. So She had a plan , a plan of all plans ever thought of, to overthrow the goverment one man at a time. Not by force, but by mere persuasion. And like I said she could get whatever her mind was set upon. This is the only case where things did not go as planned, for there was a lurker in the midst of the house.
He walked in the shadows of night, never coming out at day. He knew secrets noone else knew and he knew all of hers. He's found her journal one night, long after she had fallen asleep, and he finished reading it as daylight fought to overcome the solitude of night. Hidden in the deep shadows of the house he made his own plan in seconds. He wanted to help this naive girl for he wanted changes as well. He'd been locked up in this house for as long as he could remember....never speaking to anyone or letting himself be seen. He not only walked in shadows and lived in shadows....he was a shadow himself. Days passed and the man finally decided he would make himself known. He was tired of his lonely existence and pained by the oppression that had made him captive.
That night he went to her, went to her bedside while she lay plotting and watched her in silence. When she slept he told her of things only he had seen , things only he could know, things that would help her in her ultimate plan of liberation. And he waited. Waited to see if she would do what needed to be done, for he knew she could. She could do anything. He'd thought she needed a new approach, for though she was stunning some men find the gift of power more important than the gift of passion. She could persuade, but one can never change the minds of those unwilling to change.
And so his own plan began. He whispered a way of defeating the greed and the hierarchy...he wispered of murder. He only thought it fair to fight fire with fire, for the same greed had done him in so long ago. But her heart was pure and her soul clean and she awoke from the odd dream thinking it only a nightmare.
He hoped she was only biding her time, but he realized soon she chose not to take his advice. She could have made it look like an accident, or a mugging....instead she continued with her own plan. Falling in love was not her idea... only the chance to speak her own mind and aquire a better life for herself and people elsewhere.
But she had fallen in love, he could tell by the way she gazed at the aristocrat often, a glow of compassion behind the fire of determination. Though she had not given up on her plan for she spoke often to the man about ways of governing and about people's beliefs and dreams , about equality.The shadow knew this man far better than she and he knew his devotion to his government.
He knew the man's pride and the man's success, he knew his weakness as well as his strngth. He's watched over the man since birth. He'd seen him grow from a flaxen haired little boy clinging to his mother to a man now still clinging to yet a different type of mother. His country and the ways of generations before him. He did not know the man's mind though and could not foresee if he would stand up to the injustice of tyranny or let things go on as they had for centuries. He had little faith in the government, this shadow who lurked amongst shadows. He had even less faith in a man who professed to believe so strongly in that government. Than he looked at the girl....he could see himself in her. The desire the drive the urgency. He wanted to help her and all other like her. He knew their pain and their was only one way it would stop. Only if she were queen would the citizens have a voice only by taking the lives of the commercialized government could he insure the livlihood of generations to come. And so he took the next step. That night he wispered instead to the man and told him of the girl's love for him...in his dreams he showed him a life of happiness and children a life of marriage and family. A good life.
The shadow knew that life could not be, for after he married the girl and she gave him a namesake , a son she would raise who would be brave and fierce like she, than the shadow would have to kill him. First him and then the others.He did not like to kill, had not killed unless twas to defend himself, but in this case he was defending himseld and her and the child. He would make a future a real possibility for them ,not a fantasy that lived in the hearts of all good men. And so 2 weeks later they were married and 8 months later she had not one but two boys. Twins. Seth and Shaun. The future of a not so fair country, but it would be. He watched as the children laughed and the mother held them, he saw love in the father's eyes but detached himself from feelings. It would have to be soon. Two nights later a shadow emerged form the dining area and dropped poison into the wine glass of the man he sought to overthrow. A good man , an honest man, a decent man of hard work and kindness. This man who could have been him had he been so lucky. And that night the man died leaving behind him a grieving widow and her two sons. The townspeople heard and two at a time came to call on her asking if she be okay or need anything at all. Wanting to be left alone, she put the babes to bed and wept. Confused and tramatized she asked God for answers. A shadow crept quietly close to her and knelt down beside her praying forgiveness to the same God for his terrible sin. He realized the moment he saw her tears that it was not worth taking matters into his own hands. He was not God, should not claim to be. He was not even a man, but a coward...a jealous coward who could and would never have what this family had. Acceptance, hope, and trust. He had not trusted the government could not accept their views had lost all hope. And so as she cried he did too. He had not thought he could cry but he did. He wished he could change things he wished he had learned from this beauty about kindness and love about something more than just who he was. About warmth about compassion about letting go of his past and not blaming anyone for his Fate. About compassion. He was sorry for what he's done, and he knew he could not kill again would not be the cause of anyone's pain again. He did not think of the consequences only of the outcome.
He was wrong. Like the people who had not listened to him he was guilty as well. Guilty for not hearing the words of his heart the words of love in his heart, not the words of contempt or hatred for those things did not exist when he looked at her. Those things could not exist in a world where there was still life. Two hours later the townspeople came hearing thart it was poison that killed a father and a husband and they sought to take the woman's life in return for his. The shadow wished he could give his own life , would have gladly, but could not. Noone saw him there he was invisible. And he watched horrified as the woman fled. She barracaded the door and went for her children. With a child in each arm she ran into the night, out the back door. This passionate woman with a heart of gold and a spirit to match, running into the black night. This was not what was suppossed to happen .She was suppossed to stand tall and proud firm and unyielding and guide the people to a brighter day a better way of living. Maybe she would have if he had not interfered. He watched as they ripped her portrait from the wall and burned it in the dining hall. Watched as the flames licked the wood frame and the oils of the painting caught fire and ignited. He covered his face and hid from the fire...only wanting to remember the fire of that woman's spirit. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes he knew she would rise again to speak her mind and teach her children.
But now he could not watch as the people she cared about defaced her image. Afterwards the people left and he roamed the empty hallways...hallways that had once been filled with laughter and hope and light were now deathly quiet and void of life, and dark. He felt pain like none he'd felt before and he was scared. Scared to be alone....scared to live with himself knowing what he had caused, scared that even God could not forgive him, he knew he would not. And he wouldn't forget...a lifetime from now he would remember as if it was yesterday. Remember the way she'd looked at her man lovongly and the way he held her in gentle arms, remember the way they'd rejoiced openly, remember that they had loved.And he would not rise above this....for he was not light and free like a bird....wild and real like the phoenix.
He was a shadow.....he was a ghost.
The author comments, "I don't know where this came from....i hope someone likes it. Can you give me some feedback. The whole time I had no clue where I was going with it...Anyway thanks...I have to head to class now."
The author comments, " Continue if you dare."
Yeah, it's cold. It's January and I am in a tank top. Not even wearing shoes. Why? Because I
can feel the cold and right now I would do just about anything to just feel something. Love,
pain, joy...they're still all too complex for me to feel at the present so I'll just start with the
simple things like cold and hot. I know what your thinking, but I'm not some masochistic
psycho escaped from Sam Hill. I'm just the result of my life; a long and dragged out soap opera
of an existence. If you've seen it on GH or GL or CNN or MTV, it's probably a scene cut
directly from my life. I've got it all: rape, death, love, mental illness, betrayal, lies, drugs, sex,
brain surgery next month even. I have survived all of this and for what? To go through the rest
of ever without the ability to feel anything because I lost that talent a long time ago. To feel this
bitter winter on my chapped skin is a Godsend to me. So don't try to cover me with a coat and
don't try to bring me in !
because this winter/frost bitten/helluva wind that turns me blue is all I have to feel and without
feeling there is only death and I am not dead, dammit! I am not dead and the only reason I
know that is because I know it's cold. So, please, let me freeze.
The author comments, "Pssst...don't tell anyone...but this is true. Shhhh."
Although grandly appelled Fortescue Manor by its original owners, the
townspeople still referred to the aging structure as Jezebel's Den,
although the tragic events therein had reached their conclusion decades earlier.
..but the memory of that dark night was like the dark bloodstains adorning the walls of that cursed
house-- it would never fade. For as long as Fortescue Manor sat on its dark hill, like a black nightmarish
beast ready to leap from its perch and devour the souls of the simple people living in its shadow; the
old-timers of the town would point to it with palsied fingers, and with their voices trembling with age and
fear whisper hoarsely to some poor youth caught in their grip: "See that house yon atop that there
hill...why its none other than Jezebel's Den!" And as the youth would try to twist away, scoffing at the
aged one's feeble-minded words, they would tighten their hold, and chastise the child, crying "Don't
laugh, young whippersnapper! I been there! I seen, with my own eyes, that tormented spirit, haunting the
halls of that crumbling manor! She drifts from room to room, with wail that freezes the blood and a touch
like cobwebs!" Here the youth would become fearful at the demented tone of the geezer, and would fight to escape. But the old one would just lean in closer and cackle: "She was stabbed to death by her husband, who returned from two years overseas to discover that, in his absence, she'd converted his stately home into a burlesque house! He confronted her and demanded the reason, and at her flippant reply 'I got bored', he flew into a rage and killed her with a plastic knife from the airplane meal. The exertion was too much for him, however, and he suffered a heart attack, dying on the spot. With his dying breath he cursed her and the house...and now she must forever wander its dusty halls, pacing the faded plush carpeting, passing gilded mirrors and bemoaning the flight of fancy that left her trapped in a purgatory of endless misery."
Here their tale would end. But the hapless youth would be long gone, their pounding feet raising clouds of dust as they raced away down main street. The geeezer merely would shake his head and close his gummed eyes, and sit back in the creaky porch swing, satisfied, that in the red-tinged dusk, with a light breeze bringing with it faint sounds of a sighing spirit, the story had been passed along. The house would remain Jezebel's Den.
The author comments, "Frankly, what I wrote doesn't even make sense to ME. Good luck to anyone else. "
"If only I had never met Steve Kepheart after the game!" Beverly thought to herself. It had all started when she had gotten accepted on her high school's varsity cheerleading squad. On the first day of practice the head quarterback and football team captain, Steve Kepheart had walked up and asked her on a date. Of course Beverly said yes. And after that everything took a turn for the worst. On their date Steve pulled out a little clear sack full of white powder, it was cocaine.
Somehow Steve had convinced Beverly to sniff the cocaine. On their next few dates all they did was drive out to the woods with a sack of cocaine and get high until their noses bled. That was 2 months ago and by now Beverly was addicted. Every night she would sneek into her room, lock the door and pull out a sack of the white powder she constantly craved. Soon she was taking it to school and getting high during lunch. The other girls on the cheerleading squad had started to notice the change in their friend.
One day Beverly's friend, Grace walked into the locker room while Beverly was getting high. Grace asked her what she was doing, and when Beverly replied Grace ran to find the coach. When the coach found out she kicked Beverly off the team and told the principal. Beverly knew it was her mother's dream for her to become the cheerleading caption, just as she had. Now Beverly had no excuse for what she had done, so she reached into her bag and pulled out a little plastic sack of cocaine and started to sniff.
It reminded him of a fond memory from his youth when he was flying to Vermont for a family vacation. As he looked out the window for the first time, the plane flew through a large cirrus cloud. The only thing he could see was white nothingness. "What a great mystical aura that sight produced," the man remembered. He longed for those carefree days of youth. He thought it strange that in this moment of danger he flashed back to such a cheerful time from his youth.
He removed his eye from the hole and slowly stood up, the boards beneath him were old and creaked as he moved. He went upstairs to fetch his trusty pocket mag-lite and returned a moment later. He entered the room, walked over to the corner where the light had been and knelt on the floor. He was horrified, yet bewildered to find that the hole had vanished. He saw nothing, but he heard a quiet, eerie hissing noise. Ssst...Ssst... The man was befuddled and disoriented. He felt like crying but didn't, he wanted to scream but couldn't. He was paralyzed by his own fear and that awful hiss, now growing louder. Ssst...Ssst... All of a sudden he heard a voice "MICHAEL!! MICHAEL!!" it said. The voice was startling, yet strangely familiar. He suddenly realized it was the voice of his father. "What was he doing here?, I haven't seen him in nearly nine years" the man thought. Suddenly the small hole reappeared and quickly exploded, sucking the man into the light of the abyss.!
He landed with a thump, and instantly he relaxed.