A blob of ideas

For future reference, and to get this down in text.

here are a few ideas of things I can do/work on.

"Radio" (actually podcasted or youtube etc) shows
direct stand-up comedy
expand the radio show to be more of a variety thing: make it where guests can do acts or their own material or guest star in skits and in that main comedy series show.
a series of poems, linked together, like "fungi from yoggoth" either political, comedic, fictional or speculative in nature. (probably comedic for most, with the others being a more select grouping.)

in short become a word-entertainer. speeches, radio dramas/comedies, stand up, poems, poetry readings, short stories, acted skits live with friends and recorded for online, etc etc.

i'm personally quite interested in the linked poems idea at the moment. I've always found poetry to be fascinating, and linking a series of them together could be very cool to tell a story or share and observation, etc.

sonnets, perhaps?

limericks while fun sort of imply low-brow.

Brainstorm For Audio Comedy Show

Here's a train of thought type post of what to do for the radio show.

Major source of inspiration: Spock vs Q

noteworthy points:
   clearly different and defined characters.
      *chaotic vs logical, asshole vs polite, jokes vs straightman, etc
   small cast
   Simple plot, basically just talking out differences of opinion, but complex humor and rapid delivery
   short and sweet, to the point.
   both characters 'win' in the verbal battles (other than the conclusion)

So, taking from that, and adding on the concept of making a personality and my theatre studies, here goes some pitches

Idea 1: One series with a consistent plot and consistent characters, medium 3-6 cast, overarching story and progression

Idea 2: One series, same as above but a series of Duos with characters, no overarching plot

Idea 3: consistent characters, but more or less random events. like spock vs q: they're established characters, but in one they're on a stage playing verbal games, the next they're on an asteroid bitching at each other and going crazy. just things that happen. another example could be something like ruby gloom: just stuff that happens, with consistent people. maybe the vaguest of plots overarching like "they work together" or "they live in the same town"

Idea 4: Completely random, every episode is new characters and new events. this is fun and allows for variety, but requires set-up every episode to introduce the new characters.

So far, as of this writing, I'm leaning most towards 3. it allows for a huge variety of scripts, but also memorable consistent characters for people to stick with and relate to.

Length?
10 mins, 30 mins, 60 mins, I think are the realistic versions. 10 minutes in theory allows for a whole bunch of little epsides, and its easier to share. 30 is a happy medium, and 60 is like a proper 1-act play.

as of this writing, I'm leaning towards option 3, with 10 minute episodes produced en masse. Allows for lots of exposure, and works well with my horrible ADD and our wonky schedules.

Plot option pitches to follow

-Skull

Current Plan as of tonight

I'm only publishing this because friend suggested I do so, but it might be useful to reference later too.

So I'm thinking about the whole 'becoming a personality' thing, and here's my current game plan.

I've pitched a couple versions of "radio drama style (but a comedy) podcast/youtube things" to a few actor friends, and they are excited as fuck.

also, ever since about 6 years old i've been obsessed with radio dramas and audiobooks and similar, so I know its something I can stay passionate about. furthermore, one of my favorite things i can enjoy over and over and over and over and over is Spock vs Q, a radio drama style comedy with, well, spock and q (the characters played by their actors) being clever witty assholes to eachother. its hilarious and clever and i never tire of it.

so, i'm thinking I make some of those. with me as writer and a main character, and my friends as the other characters, and do as many as I can.

I have other friends who work in the comedy business, including one with connections to comedy central network. and frankly, people tell me i'm funny, so I'm thinking I START building my 'personality' with this/these from there, I can be writing stage plays or novellas or other things on the side, and use leverage and fame as influence for sales and attention

but my logic is further fortified by the fact that the most popular wide spread things on the internet are things that are easy to digest (you can listen to podcasts on the go, set as ring tones, share files and links, etc) and that are funny (its funny)

-Skull

Random Bit Of Script, 1

Since people really seem to like how I write character interractions, here's just a little random disconnected scene I came up with a few days ago at 4am. enjoy

terran on a ship with the crew, he hits on the necral girl. she glares and blows him off, snorting and merely saying "sousshyeh."

he walks over to the necral guy (a lot more fun loving, and this happens)

"Can I ask you a question?"

The necral glanced up at him and smiled good-naturedly. "Sure."

"I was just talking to that girl... and she said something in a language I don't understand. Can you tell me what it means?" He asked, with an unhappy and perplexed look on his face.

The necral frowned slightly. "what did she say?" he asked, gaurdedly.

"Sousshyeh, is what it sounded like." Terran said, and stared as the necral burst out laughing, his whole body shaking, gasping for breath.

After a moment he managed to splutter, "what the hell did you say to her?!" He asked, wiping a tear from his eye with a sharp finger.

"I was only trying to be friendly. I'm the new kid around here, I wanted someone to talk to. She's totally cute, so I dropped a few hints about wanting to get to know her better, offered to make her some dinner and talk." The boy said, his puzzled expression deepening. "what was so wrong about that?"

The necral laughed even harder for a few moments, then managed to get control of himself. "Hang on," he said, and gripped a small black pyramid in his hand tightly for a moment, then looked up. "It means, 'herbavore,' in your language." He explained.

The boy looked blank. "pardon?"

The necral grinned, exposing sharp teeth. "we're carnivores, terran. Figure it out."

The boy stared for a moment, then his eyes bulged in shock. "She... she called me..."

"food!" the necral shouted, and roared with laughter again, banging his fists on his knees.

"She... she called me a hot dog." The boy said blankly, staring at the floor, as the necral struggled to breathe. "Why... what the hell did I say wrong?"

The necral smiled up at him. "nothing, exactly. its who you are. You're..." he trailed off, and stared into space for a moment, then gripping the little black device again. "There doesn't appear to be a translation but something like... rookie?" He tried, thinking it over. "You haven't won any battles, you haven't made any art, you haven't done anything particularly interesting."

The boy's face fell. "but I thought you said in your society, everyone was truly equal."

When the boy looked despairing, he took a small amount of pity on him. "We are, more or less. You certainly have the right to talk to her, and you have the exact same civil rights and priveledges. its just... she thinks you're... unworthy to be given more than that, I suppose? Its hard to explain to an outsider. Everything is based on merrit, on accomplishments, on showing your own value. You haven't yet, at least not to her." He looked at the crestfallen human. "I think you've done pretty well so far. Cheer up!" he smirked then. "and to be honest, male to male? I think she's... gone without for too long. makes her overly negative."

The boy rolled his eyes. "well I was hoping to fix that for her."

The necral laughed again, enjoying this wonderful mix-up. "well, maybe you'll still get your chance. We're not all coldhearted, just... very careful. Some of us are pretty jolly."

"yeah, you seem alright. Why aren't you all grumpy like some of the others?"

The necral grinned. "my job is to go out and meet new peoples, understand them, integrate, learn from them. I spent a long time in Telha space."

The boy looked blank. "The pale girls obsessed with the color white? so what?"

"so," the necral grinned, and for a moment he looked more like a predator. "I made a lot of friends. and I DO get plenty of, eh, 'repair work' done to my negativity, shall we say?" He winked, and the boy grinned sheepishly. "Its not like we're not interested in sex, kid." The necral explained. "We're just very selective and picky and private."

"But you're not?" the boy asked, sitting down in an open chair.

"Like I said, my job is to learn from other cultures. The telha taught me how to loosen up a bit. learn to laugh, learn to play, learn to enjoy things on a more..." he trailed off again, and gripped his little device once more. "More... aesthetically?"

The terran boy smiled. "so the telha pulled the stick out of your ass."

The necral's eyes bulged at this, and he muttered, "I'm... sorry? they did what?"

"Oh, nothing. I know what you mean now." He put his hands behind his head and blew out a long sigh. "got any advice for talking to her again?"

The necral shrugged. "Show her something interesting, not just you. Should help at least."

The boy nodded, and then frowned. "by the way, please stop calling me 'kid,' its insulting. I'm 20 years old, about the same as you two! I'm an adult."

The necral snorted. "kid, not to us. do you have any idea how old she is?"

The boy raised an eyebrow quizically. "I... guessed mid twenties?" he said slowly.

the necral chuckled. "try more like, oh, ten or fifteen times that." when the terran stared at him, he nodded. "its true. we don't age like any other species we've encountered. actually, we didn't really even have a word for 'aging' like you other races do, since once we reach adulthood we just stop growing genetically, just normal cell repair and such."
----
Sadly, that is all I made. However, enjoy that much. :)
-Skull

A Fresh Start

So, I didn't even realize this blog still existed, its been half a decade since I last posted.

However, at the advice of a good friend I'm going to start posting again, even if just for myself, or for theoretical viewers someday too.

Feel free to ignore old posts, I was an arrogant little kid back then. of course, I'll probably say that of current me 5 years from now, but I like to think I've improved since being a whiny teen.
I'm going to be posting about projects mostly, but theoretically anything I feel like talking will go here. but I mostly like talking about projects to people who aren't friends, and to friends too, so, projects it is.

To anyone still reading/going to be reading, hello there! and welcome. I'm Skull. Nice to meet you. If you're open minded, honorable and interesting, I'm sure we'll get along fine. because those are the things that truly matter.

Also, fuck off if you complain about capitalization or spelling, since I can in fact spell and use proper capitalization, I'm just typing extremely quickly with the point being getting as many ideas down as quickly as possible. if you don't like the formatting errors, don't read. if you don't have a stick the size of a totem pole up your ass, read on! I'm glad to have you here.

-Skull

Sanguine Posting

hello everyone. sooo many people are asking for samples of my book, i've decided to post it up here. Just a tidbit.

Copyright pending, written by Stephen Richard Scully circa 2008.
please contact me if you have any questions, comments, fan art... whatever!
(by the way, I love the fan art! you guys rock!)
if you love it or hate it, let me know! I love feedback!

and so begins Sanguine:
(sorry about weird formatting! it copy/pastes strangely)


Prologue:
Rain.
Huge torrents of rain, beating down on the city like the angry lashings of a god seeking retribution for all of the dry days of summer. The rain seemed to get everywhere, up sleeves, in cars, through windows, even sending its chill straight to the bone. Doug Grant stood alone in this rain, wishing he was somewhere else, anywhere else, anywhere but in this dreary misery of a downpour. But then he reconsidered. He was the first, and probably only, outside person to be allowed to go into the Red Crescent. He gazed at the plain bricks, splashed with racial and religious hatred of a thousand punks and misfits of ages past. The building itself was misleading. For such an important inside to have such a plain exterior was contradictory, but somehow appropriate. The Crescent had been hiding in plain sight for longer than anyone knew or cared to tell. And now it had been exposed. At first there had been uproar. Hidden communities? How dare they hide from us, living under our very noses! But eventually the general populace had learned to accept, largely upon the rationalization that if we didn’t mind when we didn’t know, why should we mind when we do? Grant looked up into the raging skies only to have a freak raindrop knock the last cigarette of the last pack right out of his hand and destroy it in a furious splash of wet. He looked at the damp, strangely sad little thing and sighed, uttered a mumbling consternation about such events being the pattern of his life, and decided he might as well begin.
After squeezing his way through the enormous crowd of partiers in the visible club, the façade placed to hide the true value of the place, he eventually managed to slip into the back room of the crescent, indeed where the actual Red Crescent was. He had been blindfolded at this point by men at least a meter taller than he and half a meter thicker than he. Such men should not be argued with in his state, specifically, unarmed, so he allowed them to guide him through the loud voices in many tones and many languages to an even more distant and distinguished room, closing and locking the door behind him.
Abruptly the blindfold was ripped off, leaving him blinking dumbly in the strange light. He blinked again, this time in surprise when he saw a perfectly normal bar. For a place with the reputation of the Crescent, he would have expected something far more, well… unique. But it was just an ordinary bar, with ordinary uncomfortable stools and ordinary low lighting and an ordinary bartender behind the large ordinary dark oak bar itself. It was all so intensely ordinary that it felt inordinately ordinary. It was a strange thought to have and a strange place to think it in.
Grant sat uneasily on a stool, noticing several others around him, none of which he could actually see in any detail. Mere shadows of faces, silhouettes of hidden bodies amidst the gloom of the patrons, none of whom gave him a second glance. The barman, slightly rotund but pleasantly so, reminding one more of Santa Claus than a mere overweight man, came up to him and smiled warmly. “Welcome, to the Red Crescent, Mr. Grant. And what can I provide for you on this fine evening?”
Grant snorted, assuming the man to be making a sarcastic humorous remark. “It’s not very nice at all! But I’m here for information. For stories, surely you know that?” He asked.
The Barman nodded, still polishing a glass. It shone like a diamond, but still he polished with an equally pristine rag. “It may not be beautiful to you, but I’m sure it is to some, and if not, then it’s a beautiful night somewhere else, I’m sure.” His emphasis on the word was curious, and grant was unsure how it was intended. The Barman held up the glass to the light, examining it with a critical eye, “And as to stories? That’s why I’m here. ‘What would you like to drink,’ however, is what I intended with my remark.”
Grant laughed lightly and shrugged. “Have you got a menu?”
“No.” Grant was surprised. “why?” The Barman shrugged, as though unconcerned. “We’ve never needed one. People usually know what they want.” He held the glass up once more. “In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever come in here and not known what they like to drink. You might be a first in all the time I’ve worked here.”
“And how long is that?” Grant asked, intrigued. He was always looking for an angle to a story.
The barman hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then continued his industrious cleaning. He spoke slowly, almost carefully, “A very, very, very long time, Mr. Grant. As long as I can remember.” He finally looked at Grant, for this whole conversation previously he had never actually looked directly at him, always slightly away as if he was unwilling to concentrate on him. “So, what will it be?”
Grant, if he were honest with himself, would have loved a cold beer, but knew he needed his wits about him for the coming tales, so he could recall them at a later date, and ideally make great money off them. “A club soda then, on the rocks.”
The barman nodded in a way that suggested he knew the other man would say this, and just fallen into a ‘club soda’ stereotype. He acted as though he knew this would be the choice as well. He bent down and immediately straightened up with a still slightly foaming triangular glass with just the right level of ice and perfect temperature soda. It was disconcerting to say the least. Grant opened his mouth to comment on the speed, but then considered all of the weird tales about this place and decided not to comment. Instead he thanked him and tasted the perfect elixir. “So, I’d like you to tell me a story. An important story about or from the Red Crescent.” He took another sip, greatly enjoying the drink, indeed far more than he would have expected from a comparatively dull drink. “Tell me about a great person, perhaps.”
The Barman put down the ever cleaned glass for a moment as he stared off into space to ponder the trench coated man’s inquiry. “One does come to mind. A more recent story, in fact. The story is of a curious young boy.” The barman poured himself a drink, a vile green thing that fizzed slightly as he took a drink and stank of cabbages. “His name is Seth, and he was a truly amazing young man.” He took another long drink, and Grant copied the gesture, extricating with practiced speed a laptop from his long overcoat and setting it up to record the Barman. “Seth’s tale of misery and joy alike begins right here in the crescent, actually, and ends here as well.” He laughed suddenly, a strange sound, seeming to lack all mirth but still containing amusement. “Well, perhaps not end here exactly. But you can judge that for yourself.”
Grant began typing as the man began speaking; beginning with a tale of hardship that began in the very spot Grant had lost his cigarette. The tale of Seth began right outside the Red Crescent.
Chapter one, A chilly November evening a little while from now
Pension. That was the first thing Officer Welsh thought as the bullet ripped through his thigh. It said a lot about a man, his first thoughts upon a potentially lethal injury. And to have it be such a word as 'pension' said that he knew his job well, and wanted any excuse to leave. Today more than ever. HE grimaced as he shifted position to a crouch to get out of the line of fire and check for damage. The wound was not bad, and he decided to ignore it until this bloody situation was over. Bloody, well, it certainly had become so. It had all begun with a state sanctioned talk between two rival gangs, two of the cities largest, a black and a latino gang known only by their racist terms. But, somehow, tensions had begun again and the city's, if not the country's largest shootout had begun. currently, it been continuing for over twenty minutes, and was taking an enormous toll on life. He'd seen several dozen of his best friends go down, and was fearing how many more would have to die for this ridiculous business to end. "kill ‘em all, just slaughter the lot. it'd solve so many of the Street's problems" he mumbled to himself for the thousandth time in the twenty-five years he'd been on the force. And then he sighed, just as he did every time he had this thought, knowing it could never work. He took a moment to check his magazines. he had fifty-two rounds left for his sidearm, and his rifle was nearly empty, to judge by the weight. Not great, but not bad, just like his leg. He slid the magazine back into the well and pulled the slide to make sure a round was still there. There was, and he thanked his paranoid wife for insisting he action-load his gun. "here's to you honey" he said and began to move from around his car towards the door of the latino hideout. suddenly, he felt the horrible burning cut of a sniper round in his other leg. The shock made him scream more than the pain, and he collapsed onto his damaged limbs, making him scream again. As he slid back down against the car, a young man in tattered street clothes appeared in his vision with a suddenness that made him stifle yet another scream. After a second to collect his wits, he hissed into the smiling, sickly pale face of the youth. "get out of here! are you utterly stupid? can you not see what is happening?!" The young man looked at him, with, Welsh noticed, creepy red eyes, and seemed to make a judgment.
The young man spoke softly, "do you need help, officer?" He offered. Welsh stared at him. "what?" was all he could think to say in response. The kid smiled in a slightly arrogant way, saying again "do you need help, officer? I am offering you assistance. Do you want it, or not?" Officer Welsh felt he should yell again, yet something held him back. He looked into the crimson eyes and saw the offer was, at least to the boy, utterly genuine. "what can you hope to do?" he asked, on a toss to the winds of fate. The winds answered with a whisper, the whisper of the boy. "solve your current problem. sound good?" Welsh did not want a kid's life on his conscience, but... he was offering, so it wasn't as though he was forcing him or anything. "...what will you do?" he asked slowly. The pale youth hesitated, then smiled again, but tight-lipped, clearly not amused. "I'll help." Welsh paused. then he gave up. He handed the youth his sidearm, butt first. The pale one took it graciously, then just as graciously handed it back. "no. I'm not like that." he said very simply. Welsh paused again to readjust his opinions. "alright...do you want anything in return for this help?" he asked. The boy answered immediately, giving Welsh the impression he had been anticipating this question. "yes. just one thing. Next time we meet, you will not bother me or stop me." Welsh's eyes grew larger. "what the hell does that mean? Why? Will you be doing something illegal? It's my job to stop you--" the boy cut him off "promise me! just this little favor. who knows, maybe we'll never meet, and you'll never have to meet this promise." Welsh looked down at his sleeve with the badge on it. He groaned in anticipatory guilt, and finally said, "fine, fine, settle this, though I admit I'm doubtful, ...and don't die, please? that would lead to a lot of issues. and please don't get seen by the news crews?" The pale young man laughed at that last comment, saying "I'm good at that bit, don't worry. as to dying, well, I do try not to, as a rule." he gave a final reassuring pat on the leg to officer Welsh, which made him grunt and the kid grin slyly.
And then he was gone. Welsh slid back down a little more as the bullets continued raining all around his car, and the night turned even darker, light as in a disco by the thousand flashing lights of muzzle flash. The world's base beat was kept by the explosions of grenades and rocket fire, "they're right" mused Welsh. "The world really is musical, you've just gotta look for it." He listened, much happier now, though he realized his mood was probably due to slipping into shock. About six minutes later the shooting from inside stopped. There was silence, absolute silence, even the wounded seemed to be holding their cries to see what would happen next. Welsh pushed himself up enough to see the building over the hood of his perforated car. Still nothing. After another minute he grabbed his radio and said cautiously, "I... I guess it's over." He paused and exchanged a glance with the man next to him, Wolf. Wolf gave him a confused look in return, and they both got up and leaned against the car. without communication, Wolf grabbed Welsh around the shoulders and helped him hobble into the building, the rest of the police and a few daring reporters following them a little ways back. Inside the tumbledown apartments was a mess, broken furniture everywhere, and, Welsh noticed with a churn in his stomach, broken bodies. One man lay, his body torn to pieces by a hail of bullets. They continued upstairs to where the most had been congregated. Welsh nearly threw up with what he saw on the top floor. "Sweet Jesus" Wolf muttered beside him. the floor was littered with scraps of meat, unidentifiable bits of wet flesh were stuck to the walls, the ceiling, an entire arm was rammed into a door and torn off their, a head had landed facing them on the floor, giving a grisly greeting grin to the approaching officers. He heard the bravest reporter, Alice Wader, vomit her dinner in the nearest bathroom. Then she joined the two men. "what the hell..." she voiced the unspoken thought. Welsh said nothing. He was fairly sure he knew what had happened, at least in a general sense. "i'll solve it" he muttered repeating the kid's words. Alice gave him a look. "I'm sorry?" she said, asking for a repetition. He shook his head, "nothing, forget it. Just something somebody said." they continued, blood swirling under their feet. there was so much devastation it had actually formed little pools of the sanguinary liquid, and as they continued he heard more and more people cursing the intense violence. "is this what happened when we heard those explosions? I mean..." Wolf hesitated, and readjusted his grip on his wounded friend. "this is incredible! There's nothing left of these bastards... it's like somebody brought a stump grinder up here and..." he never finished his statement.
They left. Welsh was being loaded into an ambulance, and took one last glance at the building. In the alley he saw the pale kid wave at him, with a grin on his pale, blood-smeared face. Welsh tried to call out to him, but they shut the doors of the ambulance over his voice, blocking his view. He sat up quickly and peered out the little windows. The kid was gone. Welsh fell back quietly onto the stretcher, Wolf giving him a reassuring smile. "forget about it." he slapped him on the leg, which made Welsh stifle a scream. Wolf laughed "now you've got that pension you so desperately desired! Cheer up! The misses will love you for that. Welsh sighed, "yeah, I suppose she will." and said nothing more. The ambulance drove away from the scene of horrific devastation, and the men both wished it good riddance.
Seth leapt down from roof to lower roof, eventually stopping to catch his breath in the dark center of Gold lane. He looked up at the stars, the few he could see between the rising towers of glass and concrete. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue. "that was amazing!" said a girl's voice beside him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking he grabbed the wrist, twisted, and had tackled the speaker before she could express her surprise with a startled squeak, which burst from her like a trodden on mouse when his weight pressed her to the dirty alley ground. Then, realizing what he had done, he examined her quickly. She was younger than he, by a fair margin, and she was dressed rather nicely, too nice for a street rat. "who..."he said in a soft hiss, which made her friends, which he had not previously noticed, back up from their aid of her, "who the hell are you?!" he demanded. She began to cry a little, from fear he supposed, and loosened his grip on her twisted shoulder somewhat. She spoke through tears, trying her best to sound brave. "I'm Anna, and uh" she squeaked again, "you're reeeeally hurting my arm, mister!" Seth made a quick calculation that the dozen teenagers would not be a problem and then released her arm, backing up swiftly, but he bumped into another, older girl. He was surrounded. His hands, curled defensively, "what do you want, girl?" he said cautiously. She got up and smiled fearfully at him. "you, I guess. that was so amazing! we saw the whole thing, we were hiding in that building during he shooting. How did you kill all those--!" He leapt forward and slapped a hand still wet with blood over her mouth. Then he realized this, wiped his hands hurriedly on his bloody pants, and then looked her straight in the blue eyes. "look, miss, uh," he paused. "Anna" she reminded him. "miss Anna," he corrected himself. "why are all of you here? what do you want!? and you must never talk of that." he looked her over once more, and looked at the dozen girls and two young boys who were with her, "on second thought, I really should kill you for knowing who I am..." they all gasped and took hurried steps back. Anna pleaded with him. "no, really mister! we just want to, you know, hang out! you saved us from them, in a way, so we want to thank you. that's all!" he lowered his hand from a violent position, "and besides, who would believe us that a pale kid in a hoodie killed a whole street gang with his bare hands? so," a few tears ran down her pretty, if dirty face, "please?" He looked at her one last time, then rolled his crimson eyes to the heavens and shrugged. She gave a little cheer and hugged him. "Thanks big brother!" and he groaned in exasperation. One of the boys, about his own age, spoke up, "what kinda karate was that?!" he asked, wide-eyed. Seth noticed he too had blue eyes.
Then Seth did a double take. They all had blue eyes and whitish-blonde hair. It was slightly creepy, and he noticed further they all wore nice but dirty white suits and dresses. He shook his head, and answered the question at last. "not karate. just, um, me." He looked at them all. "shouldn't... why do you care? why are you here? I'm so confused!" Anna smiled at him, revealing too perfect white teeth. "oh, we were just around. and we'll see you again soon, I think. You are not calm enough to talk to us." Another, but older girl piped up, "that's too bad. but, well, we'll see you around, Sang." Seth stiffened. "how do you..." he raised his hands threateningly again, and the girl backed up fearfully. He advanced on her, probing her expression for an answer. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, because I've killed enough today. But if I ever hear you talking about... that... again." he left the sentence hanging, looked once more around at them all, and leapt over their heads onto another roof and off into the night.
Anna sighed with combined relief and disappointment. "oh well. Next time, perhaps, And I have a feeling we will be meeting again soon enough." she turned her pretty young face towards a previously hidden doorway. "was that OK, Mrs. Browne?" she asked nervously. A tall woman stepped out of the enshrouding darkness. Dressed all in black, she was a curious counter to the almost glowing white children all around her. She looked down at the little ones all around her and nodded patiently. "good enough. Now, get him to like you, like you all. Become comfortable, and of course the key; relaxed and trusting." Anna looked puzzled but Mrs. Browne spoke over her. "I don't care how you do it, just get it done." she walked back into the gloomy doorway, then turned once more towards them, "oh yes, and get it done within a month. We'll be ready then." And then she was gone.
Anna felt like crying again, but her brother Merto put a hand on her shaking shoulder and smiled reassuringly. She looked up at him with tears welling up in his eyes, "this feels..." He nodded sadly. "it feels wrong, I know... but remember, it's either him or us, and who needs to live more?" he left the question unanswered, giving her shoulder a last squeeze, and turning to go with the rest of them. Anna ran to catch up with the group. "but don't you guys think this is..." She made a frustrated little noise, "This is just not right! we should fight back instead!" she suggested defiantly, pumping a fist in the wet night air. Most of the group laughed hollowly. "well, nice idea, but it can't happen. Just try not to think about it! we'll have fun for a month, and then he'll just... go away, OK?" he ruffled her hair affectionately. "it'll be fine." Anna looked down at her expensive shoes, dejected. After a little while of walking, she came back to their own building. "well, I guess he'll be fun for a while." she trailed off, and didn't speak for the rest of the evening.
Robert Cunningham looked across the meal at his resident. His guest was refusing to touch his food and looking moodily off to the side and into his memories. Robert sighed, knowing teenage angst could be quite a problem. He scrutinized the pale expression of his guest, who was nearly an adopted son. "Girl trouble?" For the second time that evening Seth nearly swallowed his tongue in shock. After a few seconds spluttering he glared across the table at the concerned face of Butcher Bob. "NO." he said emphatically. "so yes?" Bob countered. Seth groaned in annoyance and Bob erupted in a huge belly shaking guffaw. "alright, what's up kid, you know you can tell me." Seth looked him closely in the eye for a while. Even though Bob had taken him in off the streets and had cared for him for nearly three years he still didn't trust his benefactor entirely. This knowledge saddened Bob slightly, but he hoped eventually the trust would grow. Seth seemed to make a judgment that resulted in truth, so he spoke up in an irritated grumble, "Some people saw me, and they know what I am." Bob shrugged. "well, I know 'bout cha, maybe it's not--" Seth interrupted. "But I don't know them, and they want me to join them daily, I think." He looked rather helpless. "what do I do? should I have killed them all?" he suggested.
Butcher Bob vigorously choked on his wine, "um, no, I think not. Who are they, anyway?" Seth gave a brief description of the event including their uniquely white look, and Bob sat back in his chair reflectively. "Hmm. seem harmless enough. perhaps just fans, you know, they might be like you, in a more general sense, and," he reasoned, "it couldn't hurt to have more friends, could it?" Seth said nothing to this. Bob pointed at the ham on Seth's plate with the mouthpiece of his pipe. "now, eat, and go have fun with friends tomorrow. It's healthy." Seth made a face. "I've had my fill already tonight." Butcher Bob frowned. "so I heard." he jerked his head towards the screen still showing the graphic violence. Seth grinned a bit at the site of the news anchor nearly loosing her lunch on the scene. Bob forced Seth's attention back upon himself. He sought an inoffensive way to breech the question. "Why'd you...help?"
Seth looked at the bubbles coming out of his mentor's fake pipe. "I..." he stopped and reconsidered. "I really am not sure. I guess I just wanted to see what it'd be like to help somebody else for once." Bob snorted around his soap bubble pipe. "good, then you can help me do the dishes. now eat!" Seth rolled his bloody eyes once more and took a begrudging bite of the delicious meat.
Anna and only a few of the white-obsessed teens met Seth this time. It was the middle of the night, and they were standing around in the same alley as the previous night, waiting in the slight November chill. "he's taking his sweet time" Merto muttered irritably. Ariya punched him in the arm. "he's totally worth it though" Merto gave his friend an odd look. "you're interested in a v--oough!"she punched him rather lower this time, and said, "no, I'm NOT, he's just..." then she let off a string of curses in her own language. Merto laughed, though still hunched over from the pain of insulting a teenage girl's boy thoughts. "you alright?" came a soft voice from behind Merto. Merto whirled around as best he could, and saw about a foot away the glaring red eyes of their new acquaintance. "uh, Seth!" he paused, trying to straighten up without looking ridiculous, "uh, hi!" he tried. Anna ran up and gave him a hug. "hey big brother!" Merto tensed, worried the other boy might hurt her, but Seth merely looked as though his personal bubble had been ruptured drastically and could never be repaired. He exchanged a "please-control-your-friggin-sister" glare with Merto who returned a "yeah,-you-try-it-first" expression.
Seth looked down at the little white haired head still pressed hard to his newly cleaned chest. "um, can you please let go? thanks." she backed up, and Seth noticed the other girl, about his own age. She blushed furiously when he looked at her, "uh, hi! I'm Ariya..." her voice became softer and softer as he continued to stare, and she looked away, her nerve gone. Seth looked back at Merto, and raised an eyebrow. Merto stuck out a hand and introduced himself. "hi! I'm Merto, and I'm, um, special, like you." Seth looked at the hand, and looked at his own clawed digits. "well, not quite like you, but not like these others around us, if ya know what I mean... so, does that make us friends?" he suggested hopefully.
Seth's eyes turned colder than their earlier slight warmth from confusion. "No." Seth saw them all look hurt, and remembered what bob had told him. "be nice, ...you suck at that, I know, but just try it," the Butcher's words rang in his head and he sighed.
He extended the previously examined hand reluctantly. "Seth. you seem to know what I am." Merto took the offered hand happily, and shook it hard. "great!" he paused, still pumping up and down, frantically thinking what to say next. "like music?" Seth looked shocked. "yeah, well, most music I suppose. why?" Ariya saw her opening. She slid up behind him and put her arm through his non-shaken arm. She was well aware she was pretty, and she recognized him becoming uncomfortable, just as he should do with this level of proximity. It was all working perfectly. "well, I like to dance. shall we go together?" Seth looked worried now, being held on both arms and waist by oddly beautiful, very white people. He looked between the trio. "yes, but on one rather key condition." they looked at him. "name it! this'll be great! we'll dance and play and --"
"--that you get the hell off me!" he said plaintively. All three laughed and released him immediately. "thank you." he brushed himself off, more to get the thought of their touch off him than any actual dirt, their persons seemingly immaculately clean. "now where are you dragging me off to?"
Ariya giggled and crooked a finger for him to follow her. "this way, Seth! You like raves?" She asked excitedly, walking backwards to keep the uncomfortable youth in her vision. He gave a noncommittal noise. "yeah, a bit. I've been a few times in the past, when..." He didn't finish the thought, and the trio exchanged another nervous glance. "well," Ariya said, recovering the situation, "even if you hadn't, you'd like this!" She laughed as he gave her a doubting look, and Merto gave him a little polite nudge to speed up. "actually, we're pretty close" he said into Seth's ear as the noise got louder and louder. Seth grunted sarcastically. "really?" Merto smiled by way of answering. "and is she, and girls like her, always that.... annoying?" Merto laughed appreciatively, making Ariya turn around. "what was that?!" She demanded. "nothing!" Merto and Seth called out simultaneously, making her pout dramatically, hands on her slender hips.
They reached the club, and a huge hairy man tried to stop Seth entering the back door. The first time he held out his arm to stop the black clad teenager the young man in question threw him into the alley's opposite wall with little effort. At that point Anna said apologetically "he doesn't like being touched, and he's a guest of ours and dad's, anyway. OK?" She turned to Seth, "say you're sorry to Biggie!" She demanded childishly. Biggie, still upside-down in the the pile of boxes he had landed in, saw the furious red eyes look into his. Seth gave an enormous false smile and Biggie saw a series of oddly sharp and pointy teeth. He got the message, though it was not quite the one Anna had intended.
Ariya giggled nervously. "now, you know it's traditional to be with a girl in a place like this," and she hugged him from behind. Instinctively he grabbed her, flipped her around so that she was gripped tightly in his arms in front of him and held her close. She blinked, then recovered smoothly, "oh, you prefer the front? OK!" and he recoiled from her as the the others, including Biggie, laughed raucously. She pulled him along by the pockets of his hoodie into the intensely noisy dance hall. Inside was pitch black, and then a sudden flash of green illuminated hundreds of moving bodies, all flailing with the music. Seth was shocked. "wow." he said, and Merto laughed, pushing his female friend out of the way. "yeah, it's pretty cool. Come on, lemme show you around, there are lots of... others, here." Seth looked at his new friend's face in the flashing lights. Blue, green, red, blue, green, red... "others?" he asked in clarification. Merto nodded. "non-humans, come on, you can figure it out." he pointed to a man with scales on his bald head. "see? not in Kansas anymore, eh?" Ariya grabbed Seth's other arm, a flanking gesture with Anna pouting in the back, "no, he's home!" She winked coyly at Seth, "right, hotstuff?" Seth gazed at her, feeling himself blush. "what's wrong?" Merto asked. He was doubtful about Ariya's part of the plan, and thought he sensed a bump.
Seth continued to look into her beautiful though oddly alien face. "I don't know what to do here. I'm not sure if I should kiss you or kill you." Ariya laughed and kissed him immediately. "there, your choice is made!" she began to dance violently to the violent music, disappearing into the crowd. "join us, Seth!" She called out to him.
Seth took one last look at Merto, "friends?" Merto suggested, holding out his hand. Seth touched his lips where Ariya had kissed him, his first kiss... "yeah. friends." he said, and smiled genuinely, shaking the proffered hand with the kiss-touched hand of his own. Merto smiled and drew him into the club, outwardly overjoyed to have a new friend, but inside he was crying for the betrayal to come.
Seth danced and talked with them many times over the next few weeks. Everyday they returned to the red crescent, and everyday Bob was thrilled to see his surrogate child grow happier and happier. Ariya had become extremely friendly to Seth, and Bob enjoyed watching Seth figure out how to behave with people he wasn't actively trying to kill. Seth had had an interesting conversation with Merto, who seemed the most serious and reliable of the trio. He had explained they called themselves angels, but had little to nothing to do with the myths. He wasn't allowed to say much more, just as they knew better than to ask about Seth. But even this small exchange of secrets had made them all much closer.
One day Seth was alone reading in his room, a room they had arranged for him adjacent to the Red Crescent when he heard a soft knocking on the door. Surprised, he put down his book and called, “well, come in, I guess.”
The nervously smiling face of Anna appeared in the door way. “Seth?” she called out. He answered her and she said timidly, “uh, can I come in?” He thought about this for a moment. He didn't see why not, and shrugged, getting up to get the door for her, using his finger as a bookmark in his reading material. She beamed at him, “hey big brother!” she hugged him, and he hesitantly hugged back.
He tried being nice, “Well, this is a, uh, nice surprise!” he tried hopelessly.
It seemed to work however. “yeah! I want to spend more time with you!” She said joyfully.
Seth gazed down at her, and had a small internal battle. The side that listened to Bob won and he smiled as kindly as he could, “OK, well, what do you want to do?” She paused, her pretty childish face contorted in thought. After a moment she clapped her small hands, beringed and pristine. “I want you to read to me, Big Brother!” She declared.
Seth fought an urge to moan in frustration, though a small sigh escaped his lips. Reading to child was not an idea of fun for him. “alright, what book have you got?” she showed him a storybook, and he flipped through it with one hand. Then he handed it back. “no.” He said firmly. Anna looked heart broken, but he continued, “if I'm going to read to you, I'm going to read something worth reading.” She beamed at him, and ran to his bed and hopped up joyfully. Seth reflected for a moment upon her little white figure amidst the blackness of the room, but then went to sit next to her. He glanced around the room, then looked lastly down to his own hands. “this is what we will read.” he declared, and opened to the page his finger was still holding.
Anna was petulant. “aw, but that's a hard book! I know that one, it's stupid, I can't understand it!” she whined. “the story has been done before, it's just a stupid love story about two families who don't like the other's children!” She summarized the book in her way. Seth waggled a finger in her face. “no no no! This is an excellent book, you just need to understand why. The excellence comes not from the story, which you are right, has indeed been done before, but HOW the story is told!” he cleared his throat and was surprised when she moved to sit on his lap. He opened his mouth to comment, but thought better of it. He held the book out for her to see as well, and began to read. “now, listen to how this is said, not just what is said. Here he is speaking to his poor dead wife, reflecting upon their love; Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there'.”
She gazed at the book, then squealed with delight. “that sounds so much better when you read it!” she declared happily. “read more!” she commanded imperiously. Seth had the odd impression she was used to ordering people around, but decided to read on anyway. He was pleased with her reaction, and glad he had someone to share his pastimes with.
As the days went on he read more old books and plays, and he tried to teach her a new way of reading. About a week after their first reading session she opened the door at the usual time, but she was sobbing and her face was bruised and swollen. Seth gaped at her from his bed, then leapt up and helped her. “Oh gods Anna! What happened?” She sobbed through her words, but eventually she calmed down enough to speak cohesively when he held her to his chest for a few minutes. He stroked her hair consolingly as she blubbered, “John! John hit me!” she sobbed into his black clothing, her white face shining against the dark. Seth froze. “a boy hit you? Hurt you? Bruised you?” He was confused. “but, why?” Anna sniffed wetly, and Seth handed her a towel for her face. “He said rich kids like me shouldn't go to school with people like him. He says I just exist to make him feel bad about money!” she wailed. “and he says pretty girls like me shouldn't go to school, they should just sell--” Seth put a finger over her mouth gently to stop her.
Seth patted her head again, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Anna looked up into his terrifying visage, seeing comfort in those eyes, not fear, and glad of it. “do you have school yearbook or something?” he asked. She was confused, but nodded. “in my backpack.” she told him. He carefully placed her on the bed and went over to her satchel. He riffled through it for a minute and eventually came across a book with students in it. He looked for her, and smiled in spite of the sad situation. Anna was watching him curiously. “what's up, big brother?” she asked tentatively.
He held up the book. “is this him?” he asked. Anna peered at the page, and nodded, wincing at seeing her tormentor's face again so soon. “that's the meanie who--” But big brother cut her off again with, “can I cut out two photographs from this book?” he asked her seriously. She gazed at her role model, confused. “yes... I suppose, but why do you want a picture of him?” She inquired.
He smiled at her. “never you mind. Lets' read again, OK?” she giggled through her tears and hugged him. “thanks big brother, you're the best!” He laughed, and hugged her back. He really had begun to love her innocence. He was so accustomed to seeing people as either sources of money or things to kill, it was a joy to find someone he could teach and explore with.
When he had finished reading to her, he looked at the two photographs in his hands. Then he wandered off into the night.
John Hitchinns was bored, and had resorted to throwing pebbles at kittens in the street. His meanie mother had yelled at him to come inside, but he had ignored her, as he did every night. He had managed to knock a cat off a ledge with one particularly well aimed stone when he sensed someone behind him. He turned around, expecting to see Mich and the gang. “about damn time you showed up, I was...” he trailed off. There was a boy, all dressed in black and with freaky red eyes staring at him from the alleyway. “what the hell do you want?” John snapped. The boy looked at a piece of paper in his hands, and then held it up for john to see. “is this you?” he asked. John peered at the photograph. “yeah, it is.” he stood up and balled his little fists. “you wana make something of it, punk?” he said toughly. The boy smiled. “yes. Yes I do.” and john screamed as the big kid lunged at him.
John smashed to the alley floor and looked up into the sickly pale face of this attacker. He punched that face, and the boy grabbed both his wrists and held them down over his head. With his free hand he pulled out a second picture. “you see this girl?” he asked. John looked at it and spat on it. “yeah, that's the rich bitch from school, she thinks she's soo--” the big kid grabbed his face and John shut up instantly. “think about her face. Remember her face. Got it?” John, tough as he was, knew when to draw the line. He nodded. “I'm thinkin' about her, I'm thinkin' about her!” he insisted. “good.” the boy said.
And John began to scream.
The next day Anna burst into his room at the usual time, a cold pack on her face and a big smile on her face. “big brother! Guess what?” she demanded of him, leaping from the floor to his chest on the bed where he lay. He “oomph'd” and then smiled at her, putting his book down. “I don't know, what? Your face looks a lot better, by the way.”
She smiled at him, loving his concern for her. He was so nice! “That awful bully, John! He wasn't at school today! And the teachers said he probably cant ever come back!” she said joyously. A funny look crossed her mentor's face, and she faltered for an instant. “really?” he asked. “that's wonderful!” She fell on top of him. “you helped me, didn't you?” she inquired imperiously with a hug.
He smiled that strange smile again and said mysteriously “maybe.” she pouted. “tell me!” she insisted, but he shook his head. “no, telling you would remove your imagination. Remember what I've told you? Imagination is the greatest thing.”
She nodded sagely from his wisdom and sat back, ready to be read to. He picked up a new book and read to her, as he did every day, and smiled to himself.
It was a good day.
About a week later Seth was back eating dinner with butcher bob, his adoptive father. “so I've been hanging out with this little girl for the past few weeks.” he was saying as they munched on delicious meats. Bob raised an eyebrow. “and I really think I'm starting to like her! She's great, and I really enjoy the time we're spending together!” bob was shocked, but said merely, “oh?”
Seth blushed. “not love like that, she's like ten years old! Eww! No, I just like her like a daughter or little sister or something. I look after her, you know, and care about her. I read to her a lot, and it's really fun getting to know somebody I'm not supposed to kill for once!”
Bob smiled at him and got up from the table. As Seth stared at him he embraced his potential son and said tearfully, “I'm glad you've found your heart, kid. I knew you could turn out alright. It just took a kind person to bring out the kindness in you.” Seth blushed again, but returned the embrace. “thanks, ...dad.”
A full month had gone by with happiness, and Ariya now sat on his lap, an act if Bob could see Seth knew he would never hear the end of, and something utterly impossible before being taken under the wings of his 'angelic' friends. She leaned back to look up into his face, pecking him quickly on the cheek. "hey, wana try someplace new?" Seth looked to the heavens, or rather, the thousands of little dancing lights on the ceiling one could believe were stars, waiting, thinking. "yeah, I suppose that'd be cool" he said, "where'd you have in mind?" he idly stroked her hair, another action he couldn't have imagined himself doing without pulling off her head instinctively just a month before. He was pleased that he could interact with other people, even girls now, without having to be frightened of violence. She giggled, a rather distinctive girl trait, he had noticed, and shifted so she sat facing him on his lap. "someplace quieter. The M&Ms can come too" Seth smiled at the nickname they'd created for the brother and sister. The pair in question smiled and stood up. "let's go! the 'special' spot?" Merto asked. Ariya nodded, and gave Seth a big hug. "come on, sang, let's go!" Seth was uncomfortable with her using that word, but he shrugged it off. "Alright, my pretty angel!" she smiled her beautiful smile at him, and tossed her soft white hair cutely. Seth smirked and followed them out and to a waiting car. "my dad secured a car," Ariya explained. Seth emitted a little "oh" of understanding and slipped into the darkness. "We figured you'd want it dark." she offered. He sent her an appreciative smile, and they were on their way. After about half an hour of driving in comfortable silence they arrived at what appeared to be an old church.
Seth raised an eyebrow. Ariya waved his concerns away like a cloud of mosquitoes "don't worry! it's cool!" He followed them into the empty church, and began to frown slightly. "guys... why are we in an empty church?" he asked with mild suspicion. Suddenly Ariya hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his shoulder. "you're really soft in a hoddie, you know that?" she told him, and he realized she was crying and laughing at the same time. he looked down at her in shock. "Ariya, what--?" he began. Merto came into Seth's field of view, crying as well. he smiled through his tears. "Seth, I... you were cool, man. really cool." Seth began to seriously worry. "what is going on!?" he demanded. Ariya sobbed harder into his shoulder, and he suddenly had to catch the little form of Anna who threw herself into his arms. "We're so sorry!" she cried, "please forgive us big brother?" she begged him. As Seth opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly felt intense pain and he could taste blood, his own blood The pain ebbed as he slipped down into darkness, falling away from the loving angels around him.
The Browne family looked down at the fallen young man. A heavy wooden stake protruded through his back and deeply into his heart. The three angels were crying all around him. Merto was the first to speak. "you... you'll let us live then?" he asked for reassurance. Mr. Browne nodded, stroking his small brown beard with one had, and holding a large leather bound book in the other. His wife beside him still held the hammer and an extra stake in her hands. Browne spoke softly. "yes, now that you have given us the foul beast, we can let you lesser evils go." he pointed towards the door angrily. "now go, before I get violent."
"I think that's my line" said a voice. They all looked around frantically, before they looked down to see Seth pushing himself up to his feet. Mrs. Browne screamed in frustration and confusion, though a surprising lack of fear. "you! What the hell? there's a four inch thick stake in your heart!" Seth reached behind him, and with a small scream of fury and pain of his own he ripped it out of himself, a jet of blood squirting out to spray on Ariya, who began to scream. He held the dripping sharp stake and staggered towards Mrs. Browne. "first of all, learn better anatomy. the heart is higher than that. Second, learn what it feels like!" He took a violent leap at her and rammed the stake with all his remaining strength into her chest.
An explosion of blood erupted from her torso, spattering onto him and the floor. "and that's where the damn heart is!" he screamed into her shocked face. She took a staggering step back, and he walked after her, digging his face into her neck and sucking up the red fluid that gushed forth. after a few seconds he let her fall to the church floor, and turned to look at her husband, who was hurrying to the door.
"HEY!" he called out after him. Browne stopped, looking back momentarily. "by the way, I don't die that way." He pointed at his chest, now just a huge scab, looking more like he had fallen off a bike than had been impaled. "remember your wife, you bastard." And at that Browne screamed an oath to kill Seth and ran out and away.
Seth turned now to the angels, who were cowering in the pews. Anna ran forward and sobbed onto his wound, hugging him fiercely around his waist. "Big Brother! I'm so sorry, so sorry!" She sniffled, and looked up into his face. His expression terrified her. "big brother, they were going to kill our family!" she pleaded with him. He looked at her with loathing in his eyes. He picked her up by the front of her expensive dress and brought her face up to his with no apparent effort. "Big Brother?" he asked. he looked past her to Merto and Ariya, who were holding each other hidden in a pew. "Friend? maybe even lover?" He screamed at them then. "Is that how you treat your friends?!"
Merto stood then, swallowing hard. "we... we're so sorry man! We liked you, really we did!" Seth snorted. "apparently not enough." Ariya spoke up then, "they were going to kill us all!" she said through gasping sobs. Seth screamed again "SO WHY NOT ASK FOR HELP?!" he bellowed. he pointed at the corpse of the woman who had tried to kill him. "if you had even a vague idea of what I was, then why didn't you ask for help!?"
Anna looked into his eyes, still held to his head height."please, big brother, we'll always ask next time! we trust you know, and we know you could defend us!" Seth began to laugh. "you know, somehow..." he stopped. He brought his face in towards her soft young neck and her brother yelled, "Seth! STOP!" Seth hesitated. Anna laughed through tears of absolute terror. "big brother! you wouldn't kill a harmless girl, right?" She begged him. He looked at her neck, then touched his chest wound with his other hand. "you're not harmless." he said simply, and tore out her throat.
The fountain of red that burst forth covered Seth's face, and he drank a great deal, letting the liquid flow down her once beautiful white dress and his newly ruined black hoodie. Merto and Ariya stared in silenced amazement, unsure how to react. He finished and dropped the little girl to the ground where she still tried to make little noises through her abused neck. Merto held up his hands then. "please! Seth! she was your friend! she loved you like a brother, she really did!" he was crying now, and stood protectively in front of Ariya, his hands spread to block her as Seth advanced on the pair. "Ariya, how do you feel about Seth?!" he demanded. She spluttered and he shouted at her "spit it out!" she cried hard into her hands, her whole body shaking. "I love you! I really do!" Seth had walked right up to Merto and put his gore caked fingers on his shoulders. Merto looked, terrified, into the pure red eyes of the psychotic boy he had once loved like a brother. "...please" he said quietly. Seth's eyes began to quiver, and suddenly he began a screaming cry of anguish, falling into the other boy and sobbing hard into his shoulder. Metro lowered his hands from surrender to a bone crushing hug and cried with him. Ariya joined them in their great hug, and they fell back into the pew, the angels repeating softly over and over, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" long into the night.
Chapter Two: Roughly 2 years later....

and that's all I'm going to give you for now! It should be published sometime next year, I'll give updates as they happen. By the way, I really do love fan art, I've always wanted to see my characters drawn. I don't care how good or bad you think your art is, I'd like to see it!

Have a nice night!

Your thoughtful ...me,
Stephen Scully.

Hell and Joy

Hell. Hell is supposed to be awful, full of fire and demons who will hurt you in however creative a way as the speaker can imagine. However, after a bit of reasoning, this is not so. First, how could I be beaten by demons if I'm dead? Rather difficult to hurt me. Also, I'm dead, just to reitterate, meaning I can't experience time passing, or indeed anything. ...I'm dead.

But what if hell is not a place, but a state of being, indeed, a state of being we can acheive hear on earth as well. Then it stands to reason that my hell will be exactly what I want it to be. Explanation: The darker I go into various fields, the more corrupt I become, and the more I begin to like what I do and experience. Take a drug addict who can eventually become a druglord, killing people. But they like doing this: their version of acheiving 'the good' in life is being the best crimeboss they can be. And by seeing their highest good as something other than The Good, they are effectively in hell, because their good goal has changed from the aforesaid Good to a lesser good, of being a good businessman.

So hell after death would be the same experience as hell on earth for them. They would be exactly what they want to be, because that would be their version of the good. amusingly, they would probably assume themselves to be in heaven.

One fear occurs to me. If I, in my rather odd desire to see just how deep the rabit hole goes, become corrupt, am I aware of the corruption? it would seem I am not, so how do we as humans, full of error, avoid forgetting the good? In my pursuit of the good, I look for the good as seen in other things, and does this distract me from the real good? If my pursuit of the good makes me investigate how evil humans can be, to see the opposite in order that I might see the true good, does that infact show me the real good, or it's opposite? I'd hope for both, in all honesty. But only time, and death shall tell. If I get up after being hit by a bus and i'm in a library, I'm probably wrong. ^_^

So, conclusively, hell is a good thing, a joyous thing, in a manner of speaking, just not the best thing, but rather it is the best thing for you/your perspective. I look forward to death with curiousity after this examination. Who can fear death when it is so interesting? (probably.)