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.

Jesus Murphy: From Bible to Blog

Hey guys!

I wanted to give you a sneak peak at which character will be featured in the chapters to come. I plan on writing new chapters until my imagination runs out. I will not drag out the mythology like LOST or The 4400 and finish on a loop. I got the main characters built and their backstories are fairly develloped but I have kept a few holes for further devellopment if the case may be.

It is not litterally a remake of the Bible. Could you imagine how long that would be? Yeah, not going there. I really want to focus on the good vs. evil and destiny vs. freewill. I also want to humanize Jesus (don't stone me please) and see things from a different angle. And believe it or not, His story really transcends time. I just added a touch of sci-fi to it.

So here are a few characters that we have already met and some to come. (No spoilers). These are the notes I took down to memorize character details and built them up. (Things may change as I wrote these info down before even writing the prologue)

Jesus Murphy
A very special boy. Mother dies during labour. Father dies several years later, raised by his aunt. Long curly blonde hair, light blue eyes. Angelic features, tall slanky. Awkward. Shy, reserved, mundane. Later rocker style, modern mullet, rock band. Doesnt trust easily. Convincing and true, honest, good.

Magdahlyn "Maggie" Saint
Beautiful. long red hair. Secretive and mysterious. Big piercing eyes. Tough exterior, edgy. caring, affectionate. Broken. Powerful.

Judeyah Iscariot
Menacing, deceitful, liar. dark features, tone, narrative. Jealous and envious of Jesus. Spiteful. Darkness to Jesus' light. Equally raised through adoption, similar life path to Jesus. Nothing special about him. Has connections with the Sicarii.

Madonna Angela (renamed Riviera)
High ranked member of the Agency. Lies in the shadow of Jesus' life. Mysterious. Secret Agenda? Can make people act on her will. A messenger of the Boss.

Martin Christ
Mary's brother. Raises Jesus. Same angelic features, long curly hair, early artsy weird side. Becomes more confident, mature. Role model to Jesus. Protective.

James Davidson
Maggie's older boyfriend. Violent, angry. connections to both the Agency and the Sicarii. Lost, wandering, uncertain. Ultimately unstable.

Anna Simeon
A very powerful woman who represents the Sicarii. White hair, white skin, white suit. Stern, solid. Nazareth High guidance counsolor.

Reality TV Afterschool Special

Who would ever think that Reality TV would have evolved into this. Forget the most watched game shows, the talent show bonanzas and the awful dating shows that rarely result in anything other then dramatic cat fights. TV land is now plastered with Teen Mom 1 & 2 (!!), How Can She Date Him, Jersey Shore, Holly's World, Kendra, and the now-contreversial Bridalplasty. Am I the only one who still enjoys the likes of Big Brother, Survivor, Amazing Race; you know character-building reality TV shows?

Teen Mom
I would rather die a painful death (I.E Chinese torture, anyone?!) then have to sit through an entire episode of this wretched, and morally wrong television show. It follows a teenage girl who has a child. Back in the days they were disgraced from the family for having pre-marital sex. Now they are given their own television show and seem to make being a teen mom "cool and hip". Where's Bristol Palin? Or Jamie Lynn Spears? Riiight, they gave up their childhood to become parents. D'uh, it's cool now!

Conclusion: Baby before diploma can create excellent tv drama!


How Can She Date Him
I just realised this show existed last night and will never watch this again. Who is this much of a douchebag and what kind of woman can hang around that for so long? Actors, that's who! So mostly anyone knows that MTV is the king of scripted reality but this show is off the hook with drama after drama, layered with fake tears and smothered in scripted emotions. It's still funny watching some asshole tell his girlfriend he can go back in the bar but she can't because "women are different, they don't want sloppy drunks". She hadn't had a drink yet. Yeah.

Conclusion: How can you watch this?


Jersey Shore
So I have a soft spot for Snookie and her crew of delinquant roomies. Let's be honest, the show could be entirely revamped as Snookie and the Drunks, and we wouldn't care. They may be mentally challenged alcoholics blown up on steroids and GTL but who doesn't end up loving this badass crew from Jersey? They are truly endearing and any group of people who care for each other (slightly) can attract a viewership. Now if only they could get rid of that talking drunk duck Diana, Deana, what's her name?

Conclusion: Love it or hate it. Just watch it!


Holly's World
Oh God. One of Hef's Girl Next Door gets her own reality television show where camera crews follow her daily...stuff as she also highlights her Las Vegas burlesque show Peepshow. This show falls flat on so many levels. Instead of being a really good behind-the-scenes documentary style drama, it focuses on her daily life with her dumbass friends and their dumbass fake drama. This show would have been off-the-charts had they decided to be more serious and follow her behind the red curtain when the show is over. Changing room, anyone?

Conclusion: Do not travel anywhere near this world!


Kendra
Another one of Hef's blonde bombshell, this time one with actual charisma and facial expression. Where Holy fails, Kendra succeeds. She was made for television this one. Her laugh is addictive and her playful relationship with her family is genuine. And there is something about seeing an ex-junkie make something for herself. And what of that episode where she is freaked out by a noise in the basement only to discover it's her missing vibrator. Hilarious!

Conclusion: Skip Holly's World and fly on over to Kendra's.


Bridalplasty
Can you have a trashier premise for a reality TV show? Brides compete to have the wedding of their dreams and, yeah you guessed it, plastic surgery galore. I can't judge the quality of the show as I only catched a 10 minute glimpse on TV but what I saw from it was just another roasting dramatic meltdown caused by hormonal women competing to change their looks so their husbands can marry them. Seriously, is this what the world has come to? Who wants to marry a blonde clone? I mean, real men that aren't insecure about their looks don't want to marry a barbie.

Conclusion: If you're trashy and you know it clap your hands!


What kind of reality shows do you find distasteful? Comment! And share!

Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink

Jesus Murphy: Blog Story (4)

- Chapter 4 -

Guidance

When I was questionned by Poncius yesterday, my mind kept drifintg back to my childhood and how innocent I use to be. I use to believe that I had control over my actions. I have come to learn that every step I took and every word I spoke were dictated long before my birth. Poncius called it guidance. Seldom have I been guided against my will and continued to call it so. I wasn't being guided. I was being shaped.

*****

Jesus was sitting quiet in the back of the red sedan. He was looking out the window, observing the scenary as it flew by at alarming speed. Martin was driving and singing at the same time, which he hoped would cheer up his nephew. It had quite the opposite effect. The melody reminded Jesus too much of his father and tears soon swelled up in his eyes.

Martin noticed and stopped humming immediately. He parked the car on the side of the road and turned towards his crying nephew. The poor boy had trouble breathing as his sobs took his breath away. Jesus looked up and noticed his uncle looking down at him.

"It's not fair. Why did they have to go?!"

"Sometimes things, terrible as they may be, happen to shape a man. They are useful in your path to success."

Martin could see that Jesus was trying to make sense of his words. His brow sunk towards his eyes and his lips quivered.

"You will understand in time, Jesus. Just don't forget that I am here for you." Martin said, trying desperately to reassure his nephew. He knew words couldn't heal the pain that manifested itself and that only time could heal his nephew's wound.

Jesus didn't utter another word for the rest of the journey home. He played with his thumbs and would stop sometime to take in the scenary outside. He looked at nature and admired the strenght it had to continually evolve through time. Trees grew, created seeds, died, and were then reborn. Flowers made pollen and then gusts of wind would blow them around until the pollen reached safe ground and grew into another beautiful flower. Their cycle of life was continous. Why couldn't humans be the same?


Martin pulled into his driveway and Jesus recognized his uncle's house. He had fond memories of playing here as a child, running around the large backyard, swimming in the pool, running with the other kids. The red tin roof gave him comfort as it reminded him of a weekend he spent here with his father and they played cards while rain tick-tocked off the metal sheeting.

"Hey, we're here. You go inside, i'll take your bags in" Martin instructed, and watched Jesus walked somberly inside the house.

Martin was lifting the bags out of the trunk when he noticed a lilac flower at the bottom of the trunk. He knew what this meant.

"I didn't think you would be around all the time." Martin said, dropping the bags to the pavement below and turning around to face Madonna Riviera.

She wore the usual blazer paired with a mauve tailored skirt. She smiled, looked up at the house, then back at Martin.

"I told you I would watch over him. Make sure he doesn't stray from his path." Her voice was meant to be comforting but Martin was always apprehensive when around an Agent. He knew what they did, respected their dedication, but loathed their lack of human emotions and understanding.

"He doesn't trust me enough?" Martin asked, picking up the few bags that still remained on the driveway. Madonna didn't like the tone of his voice or the implication it carried.

"It's temptation He doesn't trust. Why do you question His work, Martin? Don't you trust us?"

"I trust Him, Madonna, and nobody can question my loyalty. I don't trust you, however."

She smirked. It was one of her trademark. She removed her glasses and slipped them inside her purse. Martin knew this to be a sign of anger. Or at least, as much as an Agent could express.

"You know what I can do Martin. Don't make me use my abilities against you."

"Is that what you call guiding the people? Making them act upon your behalf? I saw the scripture, Madonna," He said, turning his back to her and walking up the driveway towards the house, "I know the part I have to play. I told you before I am not scared of you."

Martin entered the house and Madonna could see Jesus helping his uncle with the bags before the door closed and blocked her view.

"History has been rewritten before. It could happen again." She snickered.

Madonna turned around and hummed a sweet tune while walking down the road towards the sunset.


Jesus was twisting and turning in his sheets, unable to fall asleep. Images of his father floated endlessly through his mind. He finally stopped turning and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. It had a simple design to it, paint splatters covered it and Jesus was creating shapes and patterns. He was just about ready to fall asleep when he noticed the ceiling was slowly changing colours and soon it turned from white to light purple.

A voice echoed through the room. A soft female voice.

"Rest, boy. Sleep your pain away and dream of a better world. Tomorrow is a brand new day. Tomorrow, you will heal the world."

The voice slowly drifted away and Jesus drew the blankets up to his nose, terrified of what had just happened. I must already be sleeping, he thought, I am dreaming. He shifted in his bed and finally closed his eyes.