¯¯¯¯¯¯A life without meat¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

I may be eggs-agerating "un tout petit peu" with my title, as this is only day two of my no-meat action in support of my fellow friends, the farm animals. I love y'all!! w00t w00t.

I even took the time to boil myself some eggs last night to have with my soup today. Add a little crushed nuts to the broth, a little protein shake and I should be good to go until supper. Hopefully. Because that was my main concern. Hunger. If I am hungry, dear lord, move aside because I will crush you lol.

But so far I am doing good, even better, then when I was eating meat. I am not even craving a snack. Weird.

I will keep you all posted on how it goes and post some new vegetarian recipes. I'm going to do my first vegetarian grocery shopping on tuesday of next week, as I have to finish the meat in my freezer. I invited people over for supper to eat it lol. but I will not waste it, that would be even more cruel. "Hey we mistreated you and killed you for your meat to go into the garbage." Poor things.

With that being said it's lunch time!!

Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink

Friday the 13th: The inspiration behind the story

When I was in 4th year of high school my french teacher, Jean-Guy Lacroix, would often add personal touches to our somewhat boring exercises. The one that stuck out the most was our group effort to come up with a storyline for our writing practices. Someone would choose the protagonist, another the subject, and so forth until we had a good basis for the practice.

The one that kinda sparked my imagination was one involving a student finding a pool of red liquid seeping under a classroom door. When I had finished writing the intro I couldn't stop thinking of what happened next? What was the reddish liquid, why was it there, did something happen to the student, the teacher? I took a notebook used for religion class (really, who needs a notebook for religious studies???) and started writing the following events, as I didn't do chapters back then. lmao.

The end result was Student Cemetary, a prophetic story about choices and consequences whether they be good or bad. An action leads to a reaction. That was my very first short story and consisted of about 13 pages. I have since rewritten that story 2 times and wrote several sequels for all reincarnations and all of them more different then the next.

Like everyone who expresses themselves through art, I have found a muse; a friend who inspires me and helps me get through my ever so present writer's block. She is the protagonist in all incarnations of Student Cemetary, Friday the 13th, I Told You So, and We Are The Lucky Ones Here. Anytime I am stuck I turn to her for ideas, routes, anything that could help me move on from a tight narrative. This may be the reason why I am so driven about getting my major in English litterature so I can improve my knowledge of the english language and have better writing skills.

Dream = Published!


When I began to be comfortable writing, I decide to explore a new terrain, the one where you invent all the characters. In turn, I wrote Downhill, a story about spelling bee geeks stumbling into a conspiracy involving mutated humans, secret government agencies, and family connections. It is followed by Downpour.

I spent two years without writing. I didn't have time and I didn't have any ideas. I was always a fan of the Friday the 13th movies because they were one of the few horror movies that didn't scare me when I was younger. Nothing really scary about someone who just doesn't frigging die. And also, it had a good storyline (at first) that wasn't seen in horror movies back then.



And so I watched the 2009 remake and I was dissapointed with how cheesy and gratuitous it was. It lacked the complex storyline and twists that the original had and barely attempted to cover Jason's odd stops where he argues internally with his dead mother, something that was often depicted in the originals.

That struggle reminded me a lot of schizophrenia. So i used that as the backdrop to the writing, reminding the reader that he can be normal around people and snap when the voices start. I also wanted to incorporate people I knew and invented characters. I had in mind to write Jason as one of the teens but not expose him so I used something that usually annoys me, and that is the name change. But it makes sense later on. Hem hem...sequel...hem hem. I wanted to show a more human side to him. Essentially, Jason isn't born a murderer, he was conditioned to become one.

Nonetheless, you can't help but to cheer on the protagonist and see the bad guy lose.

But this is Jason. He never really loses, does he?!


Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink

Jesus Murphy: Blog Story (6)

- Chapter 6 -

A Loyal Agent

I guess it's time I let you know why I am writing this letter to you. I'm about to be crucified for the deeds that we commited. You might not understand why I am letting this be. Know that I am doing this for you, for them, for all of us. It might not impact decisions tomorrow or events in the near future; but rest assured that my death will create change where change is needed and reinforce the message that we desperatly tried to spread. Have faith in what is to be and forgive those who have done this to me. I will not write to you anymore and it pains me tremendously. Wherever you are right now, you must do one thing when you receive this letter:

Find Judeyah. He lied...

*****

7 YEARS EARLIER

Madonna Riviera was eating her favourite flavoured ice cream, remembering one summer by the Santa Monica Pier, when her cellphone went off. She took one last quick lick of the ice cream and threw it in the metal bin. She flipped open her cellphone and spoke calmly.

"Riviera"

"Is everything going according to plan?"

"It is..." Madonna hesitated, looked around the alley beside the small pub, "but I don't feel good about this. Kidnapping a child, we don't do this."

"I thought you were a loyal agent, Riviera. Don't tell me you're going soft on us already; this is your first task?" The male voice quipped, making Madonna cringe. The last thing she wanted was for the Agency to doubt her efficiency. She had worked too hard to achieve this rank. She didn't want to blow her chance of impressing the Boss.

"I am not going soft. I will execute my orders." Madonna said, trying to sound convincing, although she doubted her own words. She sighed and contemplated her options. She didn't have time to think any longer. Her target, Zachariah Baptist, had just entered the pub.

"I have to let you go, he's here." Madonna said assuringly, flipping her phone close. She slipped on her purple blazer and popped the collar up adding to her already dramatic flare. She took in a deep breath and reassured herself.

"I can do this" She whispered to herself as she stepped inside the pub to force a man to hand her his son and forget him forever...

*****

NOW

Madonna stepped inside her appartment and closed the door behind her, resting against it. She closed her eyes and reminded herself why she kept this job. After a moment of self reflection, Madonna threw her keys in the small basket by the door and walked to her kitchen.

She removed the purple pin from her hair, letting it flow on either side of her face. She ran her hands through her hair. She smiled and cherished this moment of tranquility, away from the orders and the chaos. Here, at home, she had no worries.

Madonna was just about to nuke a microwave diner when a knock came on the door. She stopped moving, instinctively. There came another knock. The blonde agent placed the diner box on the counter and tip-toed towards the door. It was silent in the appartment, safe the wind blowing through the open window.

The moonlight was shining in, casting eerie shadows against the walls. Madonna's heart was thumping through her chest. Nobody knew where she lived. There shouldn't be a knock at this door. Somebody had found her safe haven.

She grabbed the handle tightly and took in a deep breath before swinging the door open. A woman was standing in the hallway her back turned.

"You..."

The woman turned around and smiled. She had hair the colour of snow and fair skin. Something in her smile betrayed the charm in her eyes.

"May I come in?" Anna Simeon asked, letting herself inside the appartment.

Madonna slammed the door shut and began shouting at her guest.

"How dare you come here? After what you have done?"

"Please spare me the spiteful tyrade, Madonna. I'm not here to harm you." Anna said, sitting down on one of Madonna's brown leather couches. She removed her striking white trench and made herself quite comfortable.

"What are you playing at, Anna? Look at yourself, you barely have any colour left." Madonna said, a slight tinge in her voice. Seeing her guest again brought back both great and terrible memories. She didn't budge from the doorway, her arms crossed against her chest.

"I always distasted purple anyhow. I still don't believe you've kept up with this sentence."

"It isn't a sentence, Anna and I wish you saw it the way I do," Madonna replied, walking up to Anna and looking down at her with authority, "if you're not going to make yourself clear as to why you violated the pact and came here, then I will ask you to leave." She added, her eyes glowing brighter then they ever had.

Anna smiled and dismissed it. "How rude of you to try and persuade me to do anything I don't wish to do," Anna spat out, getting off the couch. She grabbed her trench and walked towards the door. "And then you call yourself the good guys..." She smirked and stormed out of the appartment.

Chapter 10 from a short story

So we know by now what happened in Crystal Lake eight years prior to Sarah coming back to visit her bapcia for the summer. We know she has a fragile relationship with Travis and a budding relationship with Tyh. She learns of the devastating attack that Pamela Voorhees committed eight years prior and of the death of her childhood friend, Melinda.

Dan Dubois and Dana Roy were just about to get cozy when something interrupted them, prompting Dan to leave and Dana to investigate, leading to her untimely death.

Sarah and Tyh have gotten jobs working at the newly re-opened Camp Crystal Lake. Sarah meets some of Tyh's friends, Jessica Paquette and her boyfriend Jacob Tibbett, who later come face to face with death.

The main couple's relationship gets stronger and they are anxiosuly awaiting the party to begin later that night. They have supper with Bapcia before heading out to the party at Camp Crystal Lake to celebrate the opening and to get better acquanited with the rest of the counselors.

They meet up with Dan Dubois and Liane Labrie by the hiking trail where the foursome splits up, leaving Liane to trek the trail alone. While the other three are busy canoeing to the Camp, Liane is hunted down and murdered by Jason Voorhees.

Before the trio have a chance to dock at the beach camp, Michael O'Shay and his girlfriend, Sandra Clarke, are fatally attacked by psychopath Jason Voorhees. The trio finally arrive at the beach and are ready to party with their friends and Tyh is anticipating presenting Sarah to his friends.

They mingle togheter around the bonfire, Sarah getting better acquainted with some of Tyh's friends and realise some are nicer then others. As the night grows and the teens get intoxicated they slowly start to seperate. Kevin and Meredith head towards their cabin. We learn that Meredith is cheating on her boyfriend with different people. The rain has started to fall and the teens are getting restless.

While Yasmina and Patrick head to their cabin, Meredith and Kevin are ruthlessly murdered by Jason Voorhees. Dan, Sarah, and Tyh start a game of cards that quickly turn to a more heated session between the later two. They ask Dan to give them a moment alone leading to Dan's murder.

Yasmina and Patrick return from their cabin. Yasmina was sleeping but Patrick continued his murder spree and we eventually learn of his true origin. However, the remaining trio are unaware of Patrick's dark secret.

This is what transpired:


10
Into the Corner

“And then Mr. Lange pulled you out of class” Yasmina laughed. Tyh
remembered that incident quite clearly. He had never laughed as hard as he
had that day. Mr. Lange had it coming, though; he very much liked taunting
the students and Tyh had decided that pulling off the teacher’s toupee was
a just punishment. He had merited detention for that little stunt.

“Still not as bad as when you and Dana had the catfight outside. Now that
was intense.” Tyh added, scooping up a handful of barbeque chips.

“That bitch asked for it. She was all over my Patrick. Whore!” Yasmina
spat out, stealing a gulp from Sarah’s beer.

“You can have it, it tastes nasty.” Sarah said, lifting her right leg up
on the chair and resting her chin on her knee. “I don’t remember going to
school with Dana”

“You didn’t, she moved here afterwards; most have. A lot of families moved
away after the murders. Not many new families moved in since.” Tyh added.
He cracked open a new beer and changed the frequency. The music was
getting tiresome. He finally settled on a hard-rock channel and “I don’t
care” by Apocalyptica was blaring in the background.

The humid air was creeping inside the cabin and the rain had finally
settled to a milder shower. Their clothes stuck to their skin. The Arab
girl removed her shirt and Sarah did the same. Both were sporting matching
bras.

“Don’t we have great taste” Yasmina giggled. She had somewhat sobered up
before coming back but the beer only made the drunk in her resurface. She
slurred her words and spun where she sat.

“We do. And you should be drinking water.” Sarah replied, grabbing the
beer from Yasmina. She emptied it out in the sink and rejoined her
boyfriend at the table. She sat on his lap and gave him a kiss on the
cheek.

“I should maybe go check up on Patrick” Yasmina blurted out, just as her
boyfriend walked inside the cabin.

“Couldn’t find your bottle” He said, looking past Yasmina at Tyh. “The
canoe is almost submerged; want to help me hang it on the rack?” He asked
his friend.

“Sure. I’ll be right back” He added, kissing his girlfriend tenderly.

“I love you, Patrick” Yasmina whispered. Her boyfriend didn’t look back as
he left with Tyh. The later closed the door behind them. “What did I do
wrong, I don’t get it?” She asked herself, looking at Sarah through teary
eyes.

*****

The canoe was rocking on the water, knocking softly against the docks.
Lightning lit the darkened sky, showcasing the immense body of Crystal
Lake. The door to the boathouse was swinging wildly in the wind and the
trees were swaying to the beat of the storm. Tyh could barely hear himself
think.

“So what do you think of Sarah” He found himself screaming.

“She’s ok.” He answered, walking steadily towards the canoe. Tyh noticed
he wasn’t behaving normally. It wasn’t like him to keep his answers
shorts. In the five years he knew him, Patrick had always been the
talkative type. Something wasn’t right.

“Are you feeling, alright?” Tyh asked.

Patrick just kept walking. He didn’t seem to even be paying attention; his
eyes blank, his pace neutral.

YOUR EMOTIONS ARE GUIDING YOU SON. HE IS A SINNER, THEY ALL ARE.
He is my friend, mother. He never hurt me. HE HURTS THE WORLD. HE HURTS
OUR GOD ABOVE. HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MOTHER?“Hey, Patrick, snap out of it” Tyh barked, grabbing his friend by the
shoulder and stopping him dead in his tracks. His gaze still lingered into
the void. His breathing had become a regulated hollow heaving. Somewhat
menacing, thought Tyh.

Kill him boy. Kill ‘em all.Patrick lunged out and smacked Tyh in the face with his elbow, knocking
his friend down. Tyh spat out blood and tried getting up. “What the fuck
are you doing?” The guy he thought he knew had just hit him and knocked
him down on the docks, made him bleed. Sarah. He was struggling to get to
his feet when Patrick kicked him in the chest and then in the head. Tyh
lolled on the docks, his head spinning and his insides churning with pain.
Sarah. He was just about to vomit when Patrick grabbed him by the collar
and dragged him to the end of the dock.

“You, out of all people” Patrick said, a laugh in his voice. “A sinner
hiding as a friend. Trying to corrupt me from the mission.” He continued
preaching. “I tried living a normal life, Tyh, I really did.”Tyh jerked,
struggling to break free from Patrick’s unusually strong grip. “You
don’t–“

“SHUT UP!” He yelled, grabbing Tyh by the mane. “Temptation and
manipulation will not work on me. I am above you sinner” And he dunked
Tyh’s head into the chilly waters of Crystal Lake. His body trashed about
as Patrick kept his head under water. Sarah. Tyh was blind. The water was
darker then hell and it was slowly invading his lungs. He coughed and
tried lifting his head to catch a breath but it did not happen. Sarah. He
felt himself drown, slowly and painfully.

Tyh wasn’t moving anymore, still and dead. Patrick lifted him out of the
water and dragged his body into the boathouse. He closed the door and lit
the kerosene lamp that was hanging on the wall. He looked at the jumpsuit
and the hockey mask and then thought of mother. THE NIGHT ISN'T OVER, BOY.

*****

Krystyna was sitting on a bench, catching her breath. Her umbrella was
dancing in the wind, barely protecting her from the rain that blistered
the small town. She was frantically searching for her cellphone. She found
it in the bottom of her purse. She flipped it open and dialed the local
sheriff’s home number. He answered after the third ring. She cut him off.

“Sherriff Jones! He’s here. He’s in Crystal Lake.” She cried. She looked
about the road. Krystyna was still alone, illuminated by a streetlamp. The
town was asleep and Jason Voorhees had returned to finish what his mother
had started.

“Slow down, Krystyna. Who’s here? What’s going on? It’s two in the morning
god –“

“Jason Voorhees” Krystyna whispered, afraid of saying his name any louder
of fear it would attract him to her. “There are two bodies at the Corner
Café and one by the shore. It smells of Voorhees.”

“Are you sure? He disappeared –“

“Eight years ago, yes I know, Dean. Don’t you forget I once held power in
this town, sheriff. I know about his role in the murders, about how he
butchered his own sister.”

“You didn’t have power, Krystyna. You were married to the sheriff. And let
me remind you that I’m the sheriff now. I don’t know what you’re babbling
about or where you’re calling from, but you should head back to bed, Mrs.
Wieckowski.”

Krystyna got off the bench and walked over to the Corner Café, the rain
bouncing off her umbrella. She looked down at the two girls that were
resting peacefully on the floor of the local shop. She was overwhelmed
with tears. “I’m standing in front of the bodies, Dean; Jessica Paquette
and Marley Kluke. My dziewczynka is at that camp, Dean.” She began crying
hysterically and crumbled on the steps of the Corner Café. Her umbrella
flew away in the wind.

“Stay where you are, I’m coming.”

Krystyna ended the call then dialed her granddaughter’s number. “Pick up,
pick up, pick up!”

*****

Yasmina was rolling a joint and singing along to the song on the radio.
Sarah’s cellphone began ringing. Yasmina looked at the call display.
Bapcia. “Hey, white girl, some bapcia is calling you” She yelled. Sarah
jumped off the couch and ran to the table, grabbed her phone and swung it
open.

“Hey bapcia, I was just about –“

“You’re okay…A safe…and stay…” The line was faltering and Sarah couldn’t
quite understand what her grand-mother was saying.

“You’re breaking up, I can’t hear you” Sarah said, smiling at Yasmina. She
mouthed something like clingy and grabbed the joint that Yasmina had
handed her. She took a puff and exhaled discreetly.

“Stay there…coming…something sharp to…” The line went dead. Sarah took a
deep hit of the joint and passed it back to her new friend. “I think she
said she was coming”

“What? Why would she come here?” Yasmina asked, inhaling deep puffs of
smoke. Her eyes squinted and she laughed. Sarah didn’t know why the sudden
outburst of laughter but soon she was giggling herself. “I can’t believe I
never smoked before tonight. Everything is so god-damn funny.”

The wind swooshed by the open windows and the door blew open, frightening
both girls off of their chair. Yasmina grabbed Sarah’s hand and gasped as
a tall masked man entered the cabin. Sarah backed away, locking eyes with
the guy behind the mask. Pure terror was emanating from his gaze and she
couldn’t help but to look away. She could feel her friend’s grip getting
tighter.

“And who the fuck are you?” Yasmina asked, forcing herself to sound brave.

The guy in the jumpsuit just stood still and silent but his head tilted
slightly to the left. He clutched a machete that just came into view.
Sarah looked at Yasmina and cowered into the corner

Tigerblood A.K.A Charlie Sheen and the Animal Cruelty Act

Charlie Sheen seems to have been in every single interview, newspaper, magazine, and tv shows this past week, ranting and raving about his "Tigerblood", curing himself of addiction by "closing his eyes", claiming to be a warlock, a rockstar from Mars, and that is only the more bizarre outings. Sad part is, this man is crying out for help silently and nobody is offering help. To me that says the media is Winning!

The media has a way of twisting events and words into truth. Because the article is there, forcefully it is the honest truth. They haven't mentioned any interventions from family and friends which I highly suspect would happen if Martin Sheen was my father. I know Charlie Sheen claims to be clean and he even passed the drug test, but nobody who has their right mind would behave that way...on television.

They also haven't talked much about the other problem parent: Brooke Mueller. All I have to say about her is: Crack is Wack! So as the feds take his children away to place them in another toxic environment, one wonders who is thinking about the children?

On that note, has anyone else bought a vial of "Tigerblood" off the internet or was I the only one?



***

In a related story (sic), my eyes were open to animal cruelty and torture commited to production animals on a mass scale. I knew the meat I was eating didn't come from ABC Family Farms where they have one cow and they treat her like a queen. On the other hand, I had no idea just how cruel these so-called ethical companies could be.

You don't have to go looking in poor countries to find cruel and vicious acts. You can look in your own backyard. That's right, Canada has some of the most sickening procedures to have "better quality" meats and higher revenues with low productive costs.

I always refused a Vegan-Friendly pamflet, as they often depict heinous acts commited on those cute little animals. My stomach and my mind simply cannot process such details.

Just a few hours ago, a collegue of mine (Hey Nadine!) arrived at work with one of those pamflets and proclaimed that she couldn't bare to read it because she knew the photos would be disgusting. I think Vegans got the hint and toned down their message to better reach the masses.

Although some pictures are gross, they don't depict anything "disgusting". Animals in cages, on conveyer belts, and some are left in "Gas Chamber Preparation Bins" until the bin is full. That means a piglet can bleed to death in one of those bins before they send it off for gasing. They can't send a bin half full, as it wouldn't justify using the gas chamber. Makes me sick!



And the people who made the pamflet even toned down their "You eat meat, you are below me" message and actually encourage us not to stop eating meat, but cut down on our comsuption. My mind right now is screaming cheesebuuuuurger, and I am trying not to ignore it, but educate it. To live in a better world with ethical treatment to animals, and less poluting ways to consume food, we must act and start with ourselves.

So I decided I will cut my meat consumption by half until I am fully capable of sustaining myself without eating animal products and/or derivitives. (OMG, I don't know if I will be able to but I will TRY my best)

Now, where do I return that Tigerblood?

Candles are out,

Eleven's Ink

Jesus Murphy: Blog Story (5)

- Chapter 5 -

Madonna On The Rocks

7 YEARS EARLIER

The smoke infested pub was crawling with drunken locals and scandaly clad women. When Madonna Riviera stepped in she turned heads and made the women's faces turn sour. She ignored the patrons and sat down on one of the wobbly leather stools that lined the massive oak bar.

The man behind the counter was washing cups when Madonna took a seat across from him. He had a big head, and the back of it was crippled with fat. He was bald and sweat beads glistened on his forehead. Madonna smiled and flagged his attention.

He swung his drying towel over his shoulder and walked strangely towards her. He had a odd limp and his arms dangled at his side.

"How can I help you, lass?" He asked, and Madonna quickly picked up on his Scottish accent.

"A true Scottie, I see."

"Haven't been in me home country since I was a wee boy" He winked and offered her a menu.

Madonna disregarded the wine list knowing beforehand what she was going to order.

"I'll have a whisky on the rocks, please"

The bartender smiled and began to prepare Madonna's drink. She looked around the room, scanned the people that surrounded her and assessed the potential for danger. There was none. She turned back to the bartender just as he placed her drink in front of her.

"One straight whisky for the lady. It'll be three fifty."

Madonna winked and the man behind the counter stopped blinking for a minute. He was mesmerized by the twinkle in her eye. It was so reassuring, like a mother's caring touch after an injury. He smiled and shrugged.

"How rude of me, lass. Drink's on me." He told her before going back to washing his cups. He turned towards Madonna a couple of times and looked at her funny but would then mutter something to himself and continued his chores.

The young woman was sipping on her drink when the door to the pub swung opened. Madonna adjusted her dramatic purple collar and smoothed out her pitch black skirt. She puckered her lips and greeted the man that sat down next to her.

"I didn't expect you to show up, Zachariah."

The man named Zachariah was older then he looked. His hair was slicked back into a greying ponytail and his face was outlined with a dark grey beard. He had circular glasses that rested atop his awkwardly crooked nose. He looked frail but Zachariah had power like no other. He ordered a pale ale and turned to Madonna.

"Why did you call me again, Mrs. Riviera? Didn't I make myself clear last time?"

"Yes, you did. Elizabeth was very adamant about your decision. I called you here hoping you would reconsider"

"My wife and I will not allow you to experiment on our son." Zachariah answered firmly, looking his companion right in the eyes.

"Your not afraid to look into my eyes; knowing what they can do, what they can make you do?"

"You don't scare me, Madonna. The Agency made a terrible mistake in appointing you to this prophecy."

Madonna adjusted her purple square glasses and drank what remained of her whisky and slammed the glass down. The ice danced around in the bottom of the cup.

"You can't prevent this from happening, old friend," she spat out the last word with such venom that she would shame the deadliest of snakes, "the messiah is on his way as we speak and your son will cross path with him. Not even you can stop this."

Just before leaving the crusty looking pub, Madonna turned around and winked in Zachariahs direction. A small sparkle crossed the room and for a moment, it was like time stood still. She brushed her blonde hair behind her ears and smiled.

"You will bring John to the public library tomorrow at six sharp. You will come alone. And then you will forget John forever." The words came out of her mouth with such sweetness, much like an old jukebox tune that made any listener lose his thoughts to better times.

Madonna turned around and slipped on a pair of oval sunglasses over her light grey eyes and stepped out of the pub.

Chapter 9 from a short story

We will leave the present time for now and travel back to the macabre night that changed Jason/Patrick forever. Although I don't go too much into detail because I  do explain more about Jodie Voorhees in "Friday the 13th Part II"

So with that being said, here is the moment that triggered Jason/Patrick's insanity.

9
Rid Me of this Sinner

Only three are left. I will have done the same as my mother eight years
ago; the night she spared my life and showed me the world was an ugly
place to live in. It was a place so cruel and menacing that it changed the
deepest part of her soul. In a fraction of a second, a light came to her
she had told me.

*****

8 years ago – Crystal Lake

The rain was pouring down hard on the cabin roof. Lightning was sounding
off in the background. The wind was clashing at the outer walls, creaking
and howling. Jason was crouched in the corner, hiding besides the couch.
He held his younger sister tight in his arms. Both had heard the screams
outside and feared the worst. He was ten, her eight. His young mind
imagining goblins and trolls, hers witches and ghouls. He didn’t cry but
shivered, she bawled and sat stiffly.

“What do you reckon is going on out there?” He said as lightning crashed
nearby.

“I’m scared, Jason.” She whimpered, lisping that “s” in the middle. She
wrapped her little arms around her brother. “You’re going to protect me,
right?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes flooded with fresh tears; her
mouth quivering uncontrollably.

“Of course, I will Jodie. It’s just the wind and the trees.” As she went
to kiss him on the cheek, the door blew open bringing in wind, rain and
leaves. Pamela was at the door, her eyes blank as Jason had never seen.
She was wielding a machete and blood trickled off the rusted edge. She
took one look at her son, and then another glance at her daughter.

“You filthy whore!” Pamela shrieked, running towards the end of the room,
the machete raised high above her head. Her face was contorted with anger
and blind rage. Jason cried out and screamed while Jodie began running for
the door. Pamela and Jodie met halfway and the mother grabbed the daughter
by the hair and threw her against the wall. Jodie lay unconscious, her
brown locks shielding her face from view.

Jason cowered back as his mother walked towards him. To this day, he still
remembered the look in her eyes. Back then he had called it a different
name, now he called it passion.

“They have sinned, my boy; sinned, like no faithful sinner can sin in a
lifetime. Whores of the grandest way possible. Brides of the devil and
bearers of demon children. They reek of fowl blood and evil desires. The
light has finally been drawn on me, my boy. Me. The great Lord above has
chosen me to rid this earth of sinners.” She laughed at this, and then
stopped in a flash only to start laughing again. Jason crawled back and
closed his eyes, praying for strength.

“Don’t cower from your destiny boy. Your sister is a sinner. You will
listen to mother.” She said tenderly, handing the machete to her son.
Jason looked at it, but didn’t want to touch it. It was covered in blood.

“Kill her Jason. Kill her, boy. They are all whores! No different one from
the other. They sneak around and break up families and lives and HEARTS!”
she said, screaming out the last word. She walked to the door and looked
back at her son.

“I give you five minutes to listen to God and rid me of this sinner.” She
added without looking back, and closed the door as she walked out the
cabin.