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Monday, October 31, 2011

Always The Same

Lyrics by John Farnham
See the video here -

There's a young girl working the corner
There's an old man lost at sea
They could tell you a million stories
About the wrong side of the street
There's a rich man making money
From a poor man's misery
It's always the same

Always the same, the fight for survival
Whatever you do today don't make
Tomorrow the same
Fight for survival
Forget about yesterday, don't make
Tomorrow the same

There's a runaway looking for shelter
An innocent heart that bleeds
There's a blind man playing for pity
Says it's the only way to make ends meet
And he's living of his hard luck story
Says he's a victim of society
It's always the same

Always the same, the fight for survival
Whatever you do today don't make
Tomorrow the same
Fight for survival
Forget about yesterday, don't make
Tomorrow the same

The seasons come and go
And all the questions why
How will we ever know if we never try

Always the same, the fight for survival
Whatever you do today don't make
Tomorrow the same
Fight for survival
Forget about yesterday, don't make
Tomorrow the same
Fight for survival
Whatever you do today don't make
Tomorrow the same
Fight for survival
Forget about yesterday, don't make
Tomorrow the same

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Bakers Road Crossing

Emma stared over the table at her boyfriend, Anthony. He was cute, with jet black hair and the richest chocolate brown eyes she had ever seen. He was a picture of perfection.

Her elbow was bumped. She rolled her eyes. Sitting on her side of the booth was Anthony's best friend, Scott, the brainless oaf. 

Emma looked at her friend Kristy, trying to work out how they managed to sit opposite their boyfriends in the four person booth in the Mismatch Diner. 

Kristy shrugged apologetically. Scott was a handful, that was no hidden mystery, but he was a gentleman when she needed him to be. Although, she had seriously thought of drop kicking his video gaming ass to the curb.

Anthony seemed unaware of any tension among the group. He signalled for the waitress, making writing movements with his hand. “Check please!” he called to her. She nodded and headed back to the counter.

Once they had paid for their meal, they headed out to Anthony's old Mustang. Emma had often teased him about his love of the car and that he needed to get a new one, but Anthony dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He loved the Mustang. It was reliable, durable and above all, was a classic. He felt all manly whenever he would drive through town in it.

They climbed in, Emma sitting in the back seat with Kristy while Scott called shotgun. 

Silently, they drove through the streets of their small hometown. Emma couldn't wait until she finished high school, then she was out of there, leaving Hill Ridge for good to attend Brown university. 

“Hey, do you guys want to hear a true story?” Anthony asked, breaking the silence.

Scott drummed his fingers along the dashboard and turned to stare at his friend. “A true story? Like what? How you two fell madly in love at Cordelia's party? We already know that story. You were both drunk and high and it resulted in a rather pleasant exchange of bodily fluids.” He winked.

Emma groaned. Scott clearly didn't have a filter from his brain to his mouth. He often said whatever popped into his head and made no apologies for it.

Anthony clucked his tongue. “No, but thank you for bringing that up, again,” he said. He turned down Bakers Road. “No, I'm referring to a local ghost story. Bakers Road Crossing. Ever heard of it?”

“You mean the railroad crossing that's further along this road?” Kristy said. Anthony nodded. “What about it?” Kristy demanded, leaning forward in between the two front seats.

Anthony didn't say a word. He just continued driving. Kristy swatted his arm. “Tell us,” she said, her voice urging him to get on with his story. 

Anthony just grinned as the car approached the railroad crossing. He stopped the car, turning the engine off. Kristy sat forward. “Um...why have we stopped on the tracks?” she asked nervously.

“You want to hear my story so I stopped,” Anthony said, grinning madly. He unfastened his seatbelt and got out of the car. He popped the trunk, got something out and slammed the trunk closed again. 

Emma tried to see what he was doing. Through the dirty back window of the Mustang, she could see he was sprinkling something white over the trunk. 

Anthony discarded the packet of flour he had used to cover the top of the trunk and climbed back into the car. He locked the doors. Then he turned to face the others and began his frightening story.

“Thirty years ago, today, there was a bus filled with young school kids coming back from a field trip at the lake that broke down in this very spot. The driver climbed out, along with the teachers, to see whether or not he could fix it, but he couldn't. Suddenly, the door on the bus slammed shut, trapping the children inside. The driver and the teachers began to panic, attempting to pry the doors open with their hands and nails. The driver even tried to throw a rock through the window, but the glass wouldn't shatter.

A sound in the distance made the panic heighten. It was the sound of a trains whistle.”

“What?” Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was starting to wonder about what the abundance of maple syrup he poured on his pancakes did to his mind.

Anthony didn't miss a beat. “The teachers and the driver were trying everything to get the kids out. They even tried to push the bus off the tracks but it was stuck. Eventually, they had to abandon the bus and the kids. 

It was tragic. The wreak was awful. I couldn't imagine what those poor people saw. The mangled wreckage of the bus smashed and wrenched under the train. Just horrible. But the story doesn't end there. Ten years after the accident, a young woman was driving when her car came to a complete stop, right here on this crossing. The engine just died. Then she heard the train whistle so she kept turning the key, hoping that the car would suddenly start. But it didn't.

She was about to climb out when suddenly the car began to roll. As you can see, there's no hill or anything here to indicate that a very strong wind pushed the car. In any case, by the time the train got to the crossing, the lady had avoided death by the spirits of the children who died here.”

“Fuck off!” Scott had a stupid grin on his face, not believing a word that Anthony said. “There's a bullshit ghost story in every town,” Scott added, cynically dismissing the story with a wave of his hand. “It's not real.”

“It is,” Anthony insisted. “If it wasn't real, then why is it every ten years, someone gets saved on this spot? First it was the lady whose car broke down. Then it was a mechanic. He said the exact same thing. The car had been pushed off the tracks.”

“Lucky break,” Kristy said, tossing her hair back. “Nothing more, nothing less. Coincidence.”

A faint noise made Emma's head snap up. The train whistle. 

“Anthony, start the car now!” she cried.

Anthony didn't move. Scott grabbed at the door, trying to open it. “Fuck. Let me out!” he cried, throwing his weight against it, hoping it would give. It didn't.

Calmly, Anthony opened his window and tossed the keys outside. “What the fuck?!” Scott demanded, looking a little thrown. “Dude, this is just an urban legend. And I'm sure as hell not wanting to test it.” Scott rolled down his window and climbed out, with Emma and Kristy following suit.

The train was in clear view. It barrelled down the the tracks, hurtling towards the car. The car in which Anthony resided in, his calm demeanour not changing despite the apparent sudden death charging towards him.

His hands were firmly placed on the roof, showing the others that he wasn't touching the steering wheel or anything.

“Get out!” Kristy yelled. “Anthony, don't do this!”

Emma watched with horror as the train got closer. Squeezing Scott's arm in fear, she prayed that Anthony would come to his senses. 

As the train got closer, the car began to rock. Just a little at first, but then it became more violent. Slowly, the car began to inch forward. The train hurtled towards it, blowing its whistle. 

The Mustang suddenly lurched forward and became clear of the tracks. The train safely passed by while Anthony climbed out, completely unharmed. 

Scott stood there in disbelief over what he just witnessed. Kristy's mouth hung open and Emma launched into a tirade about not goofing around or tempting fate.

Anthony, in silence, took her hand and dragged her to the trunk of the Mustang. She gasped and beckoned the others to follow. 

Together they stood there and stared. For in the flour that had been caked on the back of the car were five sets of children's hand prints.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Said The Spider To The Fly

I stand over your grave, black roses in hand.  Tears caress my cheek with a gentle touch.  Oh, I'm not weeping for you.  These are tears of joy.  You see, now that you're dead, I can rejoice and get back the life I use to have.

Let me explain.  When we met, it was love at first sight.  For me anyway.  You just saw me as a potential conquest, someone who you could have fun with.  But my personality won you over and we became a couple.

We would do everything together.  We were one of those annoying couples that everyone complains about.  You know, we finished each others sentences and "I" in conversations gave way to "we."  I was happy.  Much happier then I could ever be.

Then she came along and you strayed.  Promising to call me tomorrow and never following through with plans.  You made these great promises but never saw them through.  You offered me the moon, the sun, the stars and what hurts the most is that I believed you.

When you called to cancel our plans two hours before we were suppose to be somewhere, I knew it was the end.  So I followed you.  I saw you run to her, greeting her with open arms.  That was the way you greeted me.  Or at least, you use to.  Now you won't spend any time with me and the time that we do spend together usually results in you staring at your phone.

As I watched you embrace her, a plan formed in my mind.  I would make you see the error of your ways if it was the last thing I ever did.

When you got home, I was there.  Dolled up to the extremes, my blond hair straightened, my little black dress nothing short of temptation.  I walked over to you and before you could speak, I kissed you.  My hand played with your belt as my tongue danced with yours.

I broke the kiss, stared at you seductively, giving you a look I knew you couldn't resist.  With your belt in my hand, I wrapped it around your neck, pulling it tighter, the seduction dancing in my eyes faded and all that was left was coldness.

You called my name, fighting, clawing at me with your last breath as your life slipped away from you.

Satisfied that you were dead, I released the belt and your body fell to the floor.  "Prick," I said, as I kicked your thigh.  "Rot in hell."

I dragged your body down the hall and into the bedroom, stripping you before carefully laying you out.  I handcuffed you to the bed, the belt still around your neck. 

I left you there as I seeked out your other girlfriend.  I found her, and I have to say, she didn't put up much of a fight.  Of course the chloroform may have had something to do with it.

When she woke, she found herself, naked on top of you, her hand on your belt.  That's when I walked in and discovered your body. 

As I stand on your grave a smile crosses my face.  I told you I wasn't one you could mess with.  I told you that if you ever broke my heart I would kill you.  As far as you and I are concerned, I gave you fair warning.  It's not my fault that you didn't listen.

I toss the roses down onto your grave as the funeral ends.  I wouldn't worry about your little friend.  She's making friends with Big Mona in the state prison. 

I glance around.  The cop that questioned me stands by a tree, his eyes watching me.  I remove my jacket, showing off my ample breasts in a tight black top.  I see the lust in his eyes.  Deep down he knows I am responsible but has no proof.  And if he decides to mess with me, you will have a new buddy in the ground.

As I walk from the cemetery, my heels sinking into the grass, I glance over my shoulder, my eyes lighting up with a seductive dance.  The cop acknowledges my stare with a tip of his hat.  I nod my head, suggesting that he follows me.  His smile broadens and he does.

I lean against the car and lick my lips which are bloody red.  He comes overs, nonchalantly staring at my body.  "Do you like what you see?" I ask.

His smile is bright, his lips full, his teeth straight and whiter than most.  "I do," he replies. 

I unlock the car and open the door.  "Why don't we go somewhere and talk?" I suggest.  I run a finger down my neck and across the top of my breasts.  He smiles again and tells me he'd love to.  I glance up at the sky.  It's threatening with rain.

"Then get in," said the spider to the fly.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Death Becomes Me

Special note: This is written on behalf of a special friend of mine.  We've had our ups and downs, our share of fights, but all in all, when push comes to shove, there's nothing that can tear us apart.  Based on our high school poem "Death's Hand" may I present Death Becomes Me.

There's something about you that I find intriguing.
Your quick wit and cheeky charm is alluring.
But now I've peeled back the curtain
And revealed myself to you.

It scares me knowing that you know.
Knowing that you will never see me the same way.
Knowing that you can use it against me at any time
For your enjoyment is my pain.

I long to be near you
Wishing each day would arrive quicker than the last
So I can hold you in my arms
And never think about the past.

But it is all you want to bring up
How I had hurt you before.
No amount of saying I'm sorry
Will get you to forgive me.

So now I sit alone in my room
Staring at the wall.
Not seeing it
But seeing past what it represents.

I long for the cold hand of Death
To release me from Life's prison.
I long to feel His weighted stare
As he tells me that my time is up.

A chill glides down my spine
When I realise I'm not alone.
I turn my head to see Him there
His face shadowed by his robe.

His hand reaches for me
And I scoot away.
Pressing myself against the wall
I close my eyes and wait.

When his bony finger touches me
It's like ice.
Cold, wet and sharp
It pierces my flesh.

My life drifts before my eyes.
My defense is shot
As I feel my life slipping away
And I slide into the pit of no return.

I guess they named it wrong
For I have returned.
To watch over you and your friends
And judge you on your actions.

Like the valleys to mountains
Like the rivers to the sea
Like the answers that we seek
Death becomes me


Everything was red. 

From the satin sheets to her crimson lips.  Red.  From the roses on the nightstand to her small heart tattoo on her hip.  Red.

He stood up, fixing his tie as she lay on the bed.  Her hand lost in a sea of red satin.  Her skin is ivory and her eyes are like two emeralds glistening with delight.

She rolls back feeling the soft satin on her naked flesh.  He turns to look at her.  Her blond hair caressing her shoulders, her eyes fixated on him.  She bites her lip, her white teeth standing out against her red lips.

He leans down for a taste.  She smells of strawberries and greedily nibbles at his mouth, sucking his lip into hers, while her hands fumble with his belt.  She liked him so much better when he was naked.

She released his lip as her hands yank down his fly.  His black and red briefs are no match for her exploitative hands. 

He glances down as his cock springs to life.  The simple touch of her hand topped with her blood red nails, is enough to have him hard.  He had spent all night making love to her.  He was convinced he had nothing left but one simple touch from her and he was raring to go. 

He watched as she replaced her hand with her mouth.  Her lipstick smeared slightly, leaving a scarlet trace on his quivering member as she teased him to the best of her abilities.  He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard as she quickened her rhythm.  Her tongue traced back and forth over the head of his cock, all the while, her eyes watching his reaction.

Breathing hard, he opened his eyes.  A painting of a tragic clown stared back at him.  He always hated that painting but some how, in a room full of red, it worked. 

He informs her that he can't hold it anymore.  She doesn't let up.  The combination of her ruby lips, her skilled tongue and her hand squeezing his balls sends him over the edge. 

Moaning in approval, she swallows his load, her eyes still locked on him. 

He drops to his hunches, tracing a finger over the red heart on her hip.  "You drain me," he tells her.  She arches her eyebrow teasingly.  "I've been told I could suck the Nile dry," she said seductively.

She stands, tossing the sheet aside so he can see all her naked glory.  Her body is a temple and he is the monk willing to worship it. 

With air and grace, she crosses the room, her blond hair scaling down her back in loose golden curls.  He reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly touching it.  Soft as silk.  He watches in awe as she returns with a bowl of strawberries. 

Standing before him, naked as the day she was born, she holds up a strawberry.  Placing it to her lips, the tip of her tongue flickers out of her mouth, tasting it.  He groans, remembering her tongue doing that to him.

The red juice drips down her chin.  He sticks his tongue out, licking it, tracing her lips with just the very tip.  He kisses her with such force that she loses her footing and collapsing on the bed.

He parts her legs with his knee, hunger dancing in his eyes as he nips at the tender flesh of her neck, leaving red marks along her ivory skin.

She giggles, turning her head so he can have better access to her body.  She thrusts her breasts up towards him and he obliges, biting her sensitive nipples.  She pants and raises her legs allowing him access to her center of desire.

He thrusts inside her.  Forget the love making.  Now it was all animal instincts.  She claws at his back, leaving red welts along his skin as he teases her body, taunting her until she is begging for release.

He licks his thumb and, in slow circles, moves it along her clitoris, sending chills down her spine. 

As the power of her orgasm takes over, she kicks her leg, sending the fire red bowl filled with strawberries crashing to the ground.  The sound of the bowl breaking is just added to the symphony of their afternoon of passion.

He stands, readjusting his tie.  His eyes met hers through the mirror.  Her hands hold the red satin sheet against her body, her face is flushed as she bites her crimson lip.  Her eyes beckon him to join her but alas they must part.

As he leaves the room and enters the elevator he smiles.  Red.  The colour of the hotel hallway.  Red.  The colour of the elevators interior. 

He holds his jacket.  The scent of her perfume lingers.  His smiles broadens as the doors open.  He will see her again tonight. 

As he steps into the lobby he reminds himself to pick up a bottle of her perfume.  What was the name of it again? he wonders.  He chuckles to himself as he walks out the door and onto the busy street as the name lingers in his mind.  That's rightRed

A Writers Curse

My mind is blank.
I stare at the screen
The blinking cursor stares back at me.

Why can't I think of anything?
Why is this so hard?
I know the direction I want to take
But it's hard finding the right words.

I guess maybe I was kidding myself
Thinking I could write well.
As I stare at the blank screen before me
The realization hits home
That maybe this isn't what I'm suppose to do.

So many good ideas
So little time
So little patience to type what I need to.

The cursor taunts me.
Teases me
Calling me out and
Challenging me to begin typing.

And so I do.
At first the words don't make sense
But then again neither does the world.
Then it begins to flow
And low and behold a story is born.

From the depths of my mind
Through the tips of my fingers
The writer's block has lifted.

Do Horror Movies Cause Real Life Violence?

This seems to be an age old debate. Horror movies verses real life violence. But are scary and violent movies to blame for the on going murders and crime in the real world?

The horror genre for years has been a scapegoat for parents who want to protect their children from all the nastiness the world has to offer. How many times have you heard a parent say “Oh no, my son/daughter won't be seeing that film. It's too violent. I don't want them growing up like that.” Like what? Chances are with the world the way it is, your child will see more violence and death on the news.

Truth is, yes some movies are too violent for young audiences, but by banning it from their lives entirely, you're just giving them a reason to seek it out and to see it. And speaking as a former teen rebel, if a child wants to see a slasher film that you deem too inappropriate, they will find a way to see it.

Let me embarrass myself for a moment. When I was five years old I saw a scene from Hellraiser that gave me nightmares for weeks. Fast forward seven years and at the ripe old age of twelve I begged my mum to let me watch I Know What You Did Last Summer. Now, I know what you're thinking. I Know What You Did Last Summer is lame. It's a bad movie. But in 1998, I couldn't have cared less. It starred Sarah Michelle Gellar whom I loved in Buffy. Ryan Phillippe who was the hottest thing on two legs. Jennifer Love Hewitt who was a darling on Party Of Five (although I would have liked her more if she didn't toy with Scott Wolf's heart) and Freddie Prinze Jr. who was just yummy.

October 31st 1998, my friend and I sat down to watch this movie. We got three-quarters of the way through it before we turned it off. That night, I saw the Fisherman in my dreams and woke up screaming. The next morning, I got up, went into the shower only to see the tree outside the bathroom window resembling the outline of the Fisherman. (Sad Fact: To this day I still cannot watch this movie at night. The Fisherman did a real number on my psyche) 

OK, once you're done laughing at my lameness, I promise that I have a point. My point is, I have been watching horror movies almost religiously since 1998. Does that mean I'm more susceptible to go out and commit a murder? 

I don't think so.

The way I see it, horror movies are an escape. It's the reason they are so popular. Without leaving the comfort of your living room (or local cinema) you can enjoying watching some mad man rip apart a bunch of teens without any remorse and you don't have to feel guilty about enjoying it.

While watching the horror movie, our fear level is raised, our sense of revulsion of the demonic, at the same time a fascination with the idea that it somehow might have a basis in reality, we can contemplate and absorb, all from the comfort and safety of a movie theatre chair with soda and popcorn, where we put ourselves in dire danger, and walk away feeling as if we accomplished something brave and daring.

To quote Billy Loomis (Skeet Ulrich) from Scream: “Don't you blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative.” This statement I deem to be true.

Now, I won't deny that in the past there have been killings that have been heavily influenced by motion pictures however, in saying that, the movies are not to blame. The person who has committed the crime was disturbed long before the movie influenced them. If anything, the movie gave them a new creative edge. (It also gave them a reason for insanity when they faced the judge in court as well as giving me a reason to debate such a topic)

Horror movies reflect the culture that we live in. 

In 2007 Halloween director John Carpenter went into bat for the horror genre, by saying that they don't cause real life violence. If anything, movies are influenced by real life violence. “Real life causes this, fake life does not cause it,” Carpenter said at the Tribeca Film Festival. “The reason for a lot of these movies is the culture that we live in, the events that have gone on in our world. Censorship never works, you cannot destroy an idea. You can hide, you can try to cover it up, but you can't destroy it, it will be there and it will bubble up again.”

Now apparently in that same year the FCC produced a report with findings that indicated a child is more likely to be violent themselves if they are exposed to violent media. OK, I accept those findings, but how can you censor the media?

With the internet and television being predominate parts of our lives, children are susceptible to over fifty-hours of media coverage a week. And let me tell you that 99.9% of that coverage isn't about hugs and puppies.

So why do horror films get the raw deal? Why are they the first ones to be blamed for all that's happening? Because it's easy. Horror movies play on the most vibrant of our emotions: Fear. 

Let's take a quick look at something Australian for a second. Wolf Creek. Loosely based on the Ivan Milat backpacker murders that struck fear into the hearts of Australians from 1989-1993. In 2001 (four years before Wolf Creek hit cinemas) a British backpacker by the name of Peter Falconio disappeared from the middle of the outback in the Northern Territory. His girlfriend at the time, Joanne Lees, claimed that Peter was murdered. For the next four years, her story of survival was displayed everywhere. 

When Wolf Creek hit cinemas in 2005, many people thought it was in bad taste considering what had happened just four years before but despite the protests, Wolf Creek did extraordinary well. (Fun Fact: Out of the respect for the ongoing trial of Bradley John Murdoch - the man accused of killing Peter Falconio - Wolf Creek wasn't shown in any cinema in the Northern Territory) Wolf Creek is a perfect example of art imitating life.

Scary movies have such broad appeal because the theme of nightmares, the psychological thrillers and terror, raise the dopamine level of our mind, it focuses or rivets our attention and captures our, albeit, base instinct, and forces us to undivided attention.

Saying that children watching horror movies is going to equal violence is like saying that watching porn will turn your child into a sex offender. Sounds ridiculous now, doesn't it?

Truth is, if you want to protect what your children watch, then there is a simple, no fuss way to do so. Movies have classifications for a reason. If you have a ten year old begging to see something that's rated R, don't tell them no. Tell them they can see it in a few years, then opt for something scary that's projected at their age bracket. (Fun Fact: Disney actually introduced horror movies to children. One of his first flicks was a horror-spoof of dancing skeletons, 1929 The Skeleton Dance, a Silly Symphonies animated short, voted one of the 50 Greatest Cartoons of all time, by the animation industry, in 1994)

So to some up, until mankind is peaceful enough not to have violence on the news, there's no point in taking it out of shows and movies that need it for entertainment value. That's all that it is in the end. Entertainment.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Lover's Point

Riley's eyes opened slowly. The streaming daylight entered the car window, beaming down on her face. She groaned, turning her head away, not wanting to wake up. 


Riley did a double take. Sure enough, it was day. She had spent the whole night in the car atop the cliffs overlooking Dawson's Beach.

Where was Sam? Riley checked the back seat. No sign of him.

Glancing out the window Riley couldn't see anyone. The sun peaked just above the clouds casting it's light over the normally sinister woods.

With a shaking hand, Riley unlocked the door...

She and Sam had been dating for a few months. Sam was getting impatient about having to wait. He was also getting frustrated because Riley continued to tease him almost to the point of breaking.

So this one particular day, Sam had invited Riley to dinner, then a movie of his choice. Of course he chose the latest horror movie, telling himself that horror movies made great foreplay. She would get scared, then snuggle in closer for 'protection' which allowed Sam to cop a feel of her taut body. Unfortunately, Sam didn't realise that Riley loved horror movies and literally sat on the edge of her chair from the opening sequence to the end of the credits.

Feeling more frustrated than usual, Sam offered to drive Riley home. Riley agreed so Sam led her back to his car. They drove in silence, the only noise was the soft music coming from the radio. Sam's eyes drifted over to Riley, admiring her body and lingering a little too long on her breasts. 

“Look out!”

Sam turned his attention back to the road and gasped. 

A dog had run into the middle of the road. 

Sam gripped the steering wheel, veering hard to the left. The car followed, mounting the curb and sliding around the dog. The tires squealed and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. Riley's nails dug into the dashboard as the car went into a spin.

Once the car had come to a complete stop, Sam opened the door. The dog had vanished. 

“Are you alright?” he asked Riley, breathing hard. He hadn't hit the dog, had he? He got out before Riley could respond and checked the grill. Nope, no doggy remains to be seen and everything was intact. Sam assumed the dog had gotten a fright and ran off into the woods.

The woods loomed before him, menacing. Sam smiled. He knew of a spot that was located deep in the woods, near the cliffs overlooking Dawson's Beach that was a perfect spot to get some action. It was romantic and above all secluded.

He climbed back into the car. Riley looked a little pale. He assured her that dog was fine and that they were just going to make a quick stop before they continued on their way home. Riley, still clearly shaken up about the sudden swerving agreed so Sam started the engine, spun the car back around and turned up a dirt track that lead up to Lover's Point.

There were some other cars up along the cliff line as they crept past all the others until they reached the spot Sam remembered. Not that he ever came up here with anyone else.

He turned the engine off and turned to face Riley. “What are we doing here?” she asked, innocently, shifting in her seat. She knew exactly why they were there, but she wanted to hear it from his mouth. 

Rather then answering, Sam lent over and kissed her. It was a deep passionate kiss that began at her mouth and reached all the way down to her toes. It was one of those kisses that should never end. Riley sighed into Sam's mouth as her eyes closed. She felt his hand on her waist, making small circles on her bare flesh. 

His hand dropped to her thigh before slipping under her skirt. This was moving way too fast for Riley. She tried to pull away, her hand on top of his, pushing it back down her leg as she mumbled a protest. Sam paid no attention and pushed down her, trapping Riley against the car door. 

She shoved him in the chest, pounding her tiny balled up fists against his body. Her hand brushed lightly over his groin. She could feel his erection straining against his jeans. Her eyes opened as she turned her head, breaking the kiss.

“What the fuck?” Sam said. From the look on his face Riley could tell he was pissed.

“Sam, no, I'm not ready,” she said, straightening her skirt.

Sam slammed his hand down hard against the steering wheel in frustration. “You're never fucking ready,” he mumbled. 

Riley felt like crying. A little sob escaped her throat before she could stop it. “I'm sorry,” she wailed. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“Shit.” Sam felt like a complete ass. He knew he shouldn't rush her, but he couldn't continue like this. He was fast running out of masturbation fantasies.

He opened the car door. “Where are you going?” Riley asked, brushing the tears away with her hand. Sam clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I'm going to take a piss, alright?” he replied. “I'll be right back, then I'll take your fridget ass home.”

Before Riley had a chance to respond, Sam slammed the door.

Ten minutes went by and Sam didn't return. Riley pressed the button for the radio. Nothing happened. Sighing, she reached over to turn the key only to discover Sam had taken the keys with him. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

Opening the door, Riley got out. “Sam, if you shake it more than twice, you're playing with it!” she cried, leaning against the side of the old Mustang. Nothing. She thought about walking off to try and find him, but decided that it was better to stay put. After all, she didn't know this area as well as he did.

She rubbed her arms. It was getting cold. She climbed back into the car. 

No radio. No boyfriend. Nothing but silence filled the air.

Riley stared at the clock on the dash. Her eyes felt heavy and soon she had fallen asleep.

She was woken by a bang on the roof of the car. Sitting up, startled, Riley glanced around. Sam hadn't returned. She glanced at the clock again. It had been nearly two hours since he walked off to take a leak.

She calmed herself, telling herself that it was probably a cat or a dog that jumped on the car. In actuality it was probably more like a mountain lion or escaped gorilla from the zoo that was pissed about being locked in a cage for most of its life. 

While Riley was having visions of Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes, a new noise caught her attention. At first she thought she dreamt it. But there it was, plain as day, a scratching noise on the roof of the car.

Huddled down in the passenger seat, Riley held her breath. Maybe it was just a tree branch scratching the car. Sam had parked pretty close to the trees.

But then she had visions of the gorilla on top of the car scratching the roof in order to scare her out of the car and into the waiting clutches of the mountain lion.

Riley sighed. She was letting her imagination get the better of her.

“Sam, where are you?” she said to herself, hugging her knees.

The scratching continued for a few minutes before it was followed by a dripping sound. Riley had shivers shooting down her spine. She quickly locked the doors. 

Scratch. Drip. Scratch. Drip.

Riley stared at the clock on the dash. Her eyes became blurry and unfocused. 

Scratch. Drip. Scratch. Drip.

Her eyes felt heavy. The sounds were hypnotising.

Scratch. Drip. Scratch. Drip.

Within a few minutes, Riley had drifted off into a dreamless sleep...

Standing outside, stretching her arms above her head.


Riley's head snapped around to see a young police man standing near the edge of the clearing. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I've been hear all night waiting for my boyfriend...” her voice trailed off as the officer motioned for her to come to him.

“Hurry,” he urged.

Riley trotted over to him. He placed his arm around her and began to lead her towards his waiting squad car. It was then that Riley noticed that the officer kept looking past her.

Riley stopped walking. She turned her head. The silence of the woods was broken by her blood-curdling scream.

Hanging over the car upside down, bound and gagged, was Sam. His fingers had gotten free of the ropes and were hanging just above the car's roof. His throat had been slashed, a pool of blood had formed underneath his body. 

The wind rustled the trees, pushing the body of her boyfriend. As Riley passed out the last thing she heard was that horrid scratching sound of his fingers connecting with the car roof.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Blood Wars: A Brother's Redemption

Hey guys I'm James (aka @thommoj03 on Twitter) and Rei has kindly allowed me to write on her blog. As an aspiring screenwriter I one day hope to get one of my screenplays to the big screen (we can all dream right!) and I wanted to get your views on my latest idea. Check it out and I would love as much feedback on this as possible. Thank you.

In a world where vampires live among us in the shadows each night, Raven and Simeon are vampire hunters who have been forced to protect their district in fear of impending attacks on unsuspecting locals. Raven has been protecting the people for many years whilst Simeon has been trained by his older brother in order to one day take over from the one he holds dearest. 
When a routine night descends into a horrific ambush, Raven is turned by the vampires and is embraced by them as one of their leaders along with current vampire overseer Nexaddo. Despite Nexaddo's initial hate of Raven's newfound leadership, the pair begin to evolve as a devastating force capable of leading their kind to the destruction of the humans.
With Raven and Nexaddo unleashing a path of death and destruction under the cover of darkness, Simeon soon realises that he must do the unthinkable, fight his brother to the death in order to save the world he lives in. Will he have it in him to kill the brother he has held so dearest or will Raven and the vampires suffice and begin their rule over the humans?

I would love to get your thoughts, criticisms or any ideas on the above synopsis. In addition, further ideas have resulted in me thinking about possibly adding the prospect of a serum to cure those turned to the vampire side, is this something I could add in? Thanks for your support guys and gals!

Friday, October 21, 2011

The Roommate

Brooke and her roommate, Sarah, didn't get along. Everyone knew that. Other patrons of the dorms could hear the girls arguing at all hours of the day, usually over petty things.

Today was no different.

Brooke was a party girl while Sarah was studious. Brooke liked loud rock music and a different man every waking hour. Sarah was still a virgin and spent her Saturday nights either listening to classical music or at the library studying.

If their different tastes weren't a paradox then their group of friends were. Sarah's best friend, Naomi, was roommates with Brooke's best friend, Tiffany. Despite their differences, Tiffany and Naomi got along splendidly.

The day started normal enough. Sarah was rudely awoken by Brooke who was trying to vacuum her side of the dorm room and blaring Marilyn Manson. Naturally this lead to an argument.

Their arguing didn't stop there. They bickered the whole way to class but were silent throughout the lecture but then immediately continued their disagreement out in the quad after class. 

“You don't respect me!” Sarah wailed.

Naomi and Tiffany exchanged looks. Together they stood up and quietly left the quad while Sarah and Brooke continued to duke it out.

“You think you're better than me!” Brooke accused. “You walk around like your shit don't stink and I'm fed up with all your holy then thou bullshit. I'm outtie.” With that she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Sarah sighed. She made the decision to ask for a new roommate. She couldn't go on living like this. She packed up her bag and made her way across the campus to the library. 

She pulled out all her papers and books and began researching her next topic: Urban Legends. 

When Sarah emerged from the library it was night. A full moon shone brightly over the quiet campus. She walked along the path, glancing over her shoulder every time she heard a noise. 

“Stop it,” Sarah scolded herself. “There's no one out here besides you.” She blamed her sudden case of paranoia on spending the last several hours reading about urban legends. She had even dared herself to call on Bloody Mary, but after the forth time she said her name, Sarah chickened out and closed her compact. She really didn't need to piss off a vengeful spirit.

Whistling aloud to keep herself sane, Sarah turned into the quad. The shady trees, which she loved so much during the day, looked menacing now. 

Sarah hurried along the path when a noise behind her had her grinding to a halt. She turned, her eyes searching the darkness. She couldn't see anything.

When she turned back around, she came face to face with Naomi. 

“Fuck me!” Sarah cried, her hand on her heart as she felt it leap from her chest. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” Naomi apologised and smiled sweetly, asking whether or not Sarah had heard her calling out to her. Sarah shook her head. She was probably whistling at that time while she imagined some weird stranger lurking in the bushes.

“A few of the guys are heading over to Campus Perk,” Naomi said, lighting up a cigarette. “Care to join us?” 

"Will the bitch be there?” Sarah asked.

Naomi shook her head. “No, I swung by the room and Brooke said she was going to have an early night. She said after the epic battle you two had, she could feel a headache coming on.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and snorted. Bitch, she thought. She smiled at Naomi. “Sure, I'd love to come. Let me go back to the dorm and drop these books off and grab a sweater then I'll head right over.”

Naomi smiled. “I'll walk with you. It seemed like the darkened campus was giving you the wiggins.” Sarah blushed. “You noticed that?” she asked as the two girls walked back towards Stevenson Hall. Naomi chuckled but said nothing.

Pulling the key out of her pocket, Sarah opened her dorm door. It was dark inside and Sarah could barely see. 

Feeling her way along the wall, her hand brushed over the light switch. For the faintest of moments, she felt like switching the light on and blinding Brooke, but decided against it. No matter how much she detested Brooke, Sarah was never that mean.

She dumped her books on her bed and grabbed a jacket from the back of her desk chair and made her way back to the door. Sarah was proud that she had not only found everything in the dark, but she had also avoided making any sound.


Biting her lip, Sarah began to hop towards the door. She had just stubbed her toe on the corner of her bed.

Naomi laughed as Sarah hobbled into the hallway. “Stub your toe?” she asked innocently. Sarah shot her a look as she let the door close behind her.

Four hours later as Campus Perk was closing, Naomi and Sarah made their way across the campus for the second time that night. Having Naomi by her side made Sarah's fears disappear. They chatted loudly, laughing occasionally about the stupid things Tiffany's boyfriend, Dom, had done that night.

Their laughter was cut short by the flashing lights of the police cars and ambulance that were situated outside Stevenson Hall.

“Ohmigod,” Naomi said, her hand covering her mouth. Swarms of students crowded around to see what was going on. Naomi and Sarah pushed through the crowd just as the ambulance crew wheeled out a body on a stretcher.

As they were lifting the stretcher down the front steps of Stevenson Hall, the sheet fell to the side to reveal the body of Brooke.


Forgetting their rivalry, Sarah pushed through the crowd with Naomi right on her heels. “Brooke!” she cried. “What happened?” she demanded as the ambulance crew loaded Brooke's body into the back of the waiting ambulance. 

“I'm sorry, miss,” one young man said.

“Don't 'Sorry Miss' me,” Sarah snapped. “She's my roommate and I want to know what happened!”

The crew shared a look. “You're her roommate?” the young man asked, arching an eyebrow.

Sarah nodded.

The young man placed a hand on her shoulder as he lead her into the dorms. They got to the door of her room. 

Police were everywhere. Sarah felt sick as one officer approached her. “I'm Detective Raymond,” he said. “Sarah Kidman,” she replied, shaking his hand. “I live here.”

Detective Raymond nodded. He asked her some standard questions like where was she tonight. “I was at Campus Perk. But before that I was at the library, then Naomi Preston and I came back here to get my jacket and drop off my books. Then we headed over to Campus Perk,” Sarah answered truthfully.   

“You were here tonight?” the detective asked. Sarah nodded. “What time was this?” Sarah shrugged. “About seven,” she replied. 

“And your roommate was asleep?”

Sarah shrugged again and explained that Brooke said she was calling it an early night on account of a headache. The detective looked thoughtful. “Maybe you can make some sense out of this then,” he told her, as he ushered her inside the adjoined bathroom.

Scrawled on the wall in Brooke's blood was the threatening message Aren't You Glad You Didn't Turn On The Lights.

Sarah felt sick to her stomach. She began talking softly, blaming herself for not turning on the light when she returned.

The detective signalled to a nearby officer who took Sarah out of the room. “This is all my fault,” Sarah muttered over and over again. The officer patted her back tenderly. “It wasn't. Sarah, you have to understand that if you had of turned the lights on, you could have been sprawled out next to your roommate,” the officer said.

Sarah nodded, not really hearing the officers words. Her eyes landed on Naomi in the crowd. She rushed over to her, wrapping Sarah up in her arms. The officer made sure Sarah was alright and Naomi said she was welcome to crash at her place.

Linking her arm through Sarah's, Naomi lead her past the crowd of people and down the dark path towards Crandall Hall. 

“There was so much blood,” Sarah said. “I never knew a person could bleed so much.”

Naomi nodded, unsure of what to say. She hugged Sarah tighter as they walked.

Sarah suddenly stopped walking and tilted her head. She heard a noise in the bushes. Naomi heard it too. But before either girl could move, Tiffany emerged from the bushes. She grinned at her friends, knowing full well that she scared them. Sarah rolled her eyes as Tiffany gave her a hug. 

“By the way, Tiff, I loved the little message you left me,” Sarah said as the three of them walked arm in arm. Tiffany's grin widened. “I thought you might,” she said teasingly as the bright moonlight shone upon her face. On Tiffany's cheek, plain as day, was Brooke's blood.

A New Horror

Greeting everyone!

When I was 15, my high school girlfriends and I had an obsession with horror to the point that we tried to create our own horror movie (It was the funniest thing you would ever see and the only copy dies with me).  Ten years later, I still have an obsession with horror and I'm dusting off the old script and trying to rework it the best that I can.

Now, I've said in the past that if this world was dependant on me writing horror, we would all die.  I still stand by the statement, but I've never been one to back down from a challenge. 

So, in order for me to create something truly terrifying, I have to ask for your opinions.  Do you find scary movies more enticing and terrifying if the killer has no motive?  Or would you prefer them to yap on about why they've been stabbing, shooting and killing people at random for the last ninety minutes?

Your input means a lot to me, so please either message me on Twitter or leave a comment below.  Who knows, maybe in time Slayed will be coming to a cinema near you....

Self Reflection

Her hair is like sunshine gold
Her lips are redder then the rose
She walks with grace
Wherever she goes

But there's something
Hiding behind her eyes
Pain and suffering
Hides beneath her smile

How she feels inside
She can not describe
And yet with each cut
It quickly subsides

The blood flows freely
She covered the cut
Hiding it beneath her clothes
She's stuck in a rut

Of self mutilation
Self destruction
Despite everything she feels
No one pays attention

She stops eating
Feeding her mind instead
A cocktail of knowledge and drugs
From every book she's ever read

From beneath her jeans
Her panties are seen
Riding low on her hips
Every mans dream

You know you want her
Her pouted lips succulent red
Her eyes hold a hint of coldness
As she lays on the bed

No morals or values
All she was is gone
As she lies there
Waiting for you to be done

She cries herself to sleep
Because no one cares
If she wastes away to nothing
Or falls into a pit of despair

She stares at her reflection
Looking into her eyes
What has she become?
Is it truth or is it lies?

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Ladles and Jellyspoons

Ladles and Jellyspoons:
I come before you
To stand behind you
And tell you something
I know nothing about.

Next Thursday,
The day after Friday,
There'll be a ladies' meeting
For men only.

Wear your best clothes
If you haven't any,
And if you can come
Please stay home.

Admission is free,
You can pay at the door.
We'll give you a seat
So you can sit on the floor.

It makes no difference
Where you sit;
The kid in the gallery
Is sure to spit.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Animal Inside Me

There's an animal inside me
Begging for release.
There's an animal inside me
That's longing to be free.

So let me be your distraction.
Let me be your dream.
Come back to me...

I step out of my skin.
You wouldn't know me now.
I need
I crave
I surrender control.

We belong outside
You tell me we can't.
"You can't run loose tonight.
Someone is hunting for us."

The animal stirs from within.
I can feel it beneath my skin.
I stretch my neck
As the power evolves.

I wanted you before I even saw you.
I sensed you.
Did you sense me too?

Locked away together for the night.
Alone in a cage
Hiding from the moonlight
We begin to change.

I'm unsure of why it hurts so much now
As I'm so use to it.
My teeth grow.
My snout does too.
My claws could rip you to shreds.

Despite our transformations
My whole life I've never loved anything else.
From the beat of your heart
To the look of your eyes
To that wicked smile.
You are the one for me.

Our little animal lust
Doesn't make us ill.
To keep what's yours
Sometimes you have to kill.

The animal takes control
And we begin to fight.
I don't blame you.
It's the power of the moonlight.

There's an animal inside me
Finally it is released.
There's an animal inside me
That is finally free.

So let me be your distraction.
Let me be your dream.
Come back to me...