so for those of you who have been curious, there is a picture of me taken by my drunk room mate with my phone from last night. yes, thats really what i look like, though i am in desperate need of a hair cut.
and for those of you who like The Adventures of Hunter Cartwright, check out the trailer here
finally, i give you a rather short chapter of The Adventures of Hunter Cartwright. trying to step up my writing this year, be more productive, a better person all that crap...
yeah, who the fuck am i kidding. anyway, enjoy.
Thirteen
As a child, I spent every summer at my grandparents home on the New York coastline. One summer, while wandering about in the small copse of trees that bordered the back of their residence, I came across a fallen wasps nest. It appeared that someone had knocked the hive from its perch on one of the surrounding trees branches, and the resulting fall had split the hive in two, leaving its interior open to the bright summer sunlight. Though afraid of being stung, my childish curiosity finally got the better of me, and I cautiously approached the shattered home of a species that may be more alien to our own then any other upon this earth.
It was horrid. Nothing but tiny, twisting passageways, oddly shaped chambers, and an architectural design that was so foreign that even my young mind was instinctually repulsed by it. My overly excitable imagination soon took over, as I stared with equal parts obscene fascination and morbid revulsion, and tried to imagine what it would be like to have to crawl blindly through such a claustrophobic warren, forever surrounded by equally blind and burrowing creatures. So terrible and repugnant a line of thought this was, that I spent the rest of that summer unable to sleep without dreams of tight, scrabbling blindness.
I no longer have to wonder how those alien hive dwellers must have felt.
The inside of Blackwood Asylum is even more maddening then its outside; a thing I would not have believed possible a moment ago. The hallways twist and writhe with no apparent purpose. Within minutes of entering I am already hopelessly lost. What little sense of direction I may possess rendered completely useless by random turnings and oddly angled walls.
Yet this is not the worst of it. No, the worst is the constant soft noise.
All around us the darkness is filled with soft whisperings, quiet murmurs, and what I am slowly coming to believe are muffled screams. The halls are lined with thick, locked doors, and from each one there comes some dampened sound. A constant susurration that I fear will drive me mad.
The only source of illumination I have witnessed thus far, is the small pocket lamp carried by Dr. Blackwood. Though I have scanned the walls and ceilings since entering, I have witnessed no system for lighting these passageways.
Dr. Blackwood has informed me that many of his patients seem to suffer a great aversion to light. He believes it may have something to do with a fear of having their differences exposed.
Nearly jumping at the soft voice, I look quickly at Kao Li, who has been walking silently beside me, surprise and startlement stamped openly upon my features.
He offers me a small smile, a smile that still does not reach those black, black eyes, and says, Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you. I simply noticed you looking at the walls and ceiling and guessed at your reasons. I observed the same thing myself, and asked Dr. Blackwood about it. He also seems to believe it helps pacify his patients. Something about sleep patterns that I was not sure I followed. Dr. Blackwood has many interesting theories concerning his patients.
I nod, still startled by the small Chinaman. While his explanation makes sense, I am still discomfited by his presence. There is a... stillness to him that seems inhuman. A patience and placidity that are unnatural to the dynamism of Western culture and peoples.
Ahead of us, the light suddenly vanishes as the hallway makes a sharp turn. I stumble a bit at the sudden loss of light. The darkness comes crashing down around me, sucking the air from my lungs. I choke a little, forcing myself to breathe through it. Ive been through worse this evening. Ive been attacked twice by animated dead men. Theres nothing to fear from the dark.
(except there are things to fear IN the dark. things youve never imagined. things like...)
I feel a powerful grip on my arm, with a jump I reach for the revolver which I had tucked into an inner pocket of my coat. A pocket that seems to have been designed for it. Before my trembling hands can even touch the smooth sandalwood grip though, I feel a gentle tug, a quick prod to direct me in the dark. A pull just like the one I felt when Stacia helped me through Hunters home while I was in my... state. With a soft sigh and a lowering of my arm, I follow my invisible guide.
The noise is worse in the dark. It is... louder, somehow. For the first time, I can make out words, even sentences, in the constant susurration of sound.
Mommy. Mommmeeee.
I didnt do it. I swear. Please, no more.
My breathing starts to increase with my rapidly rising anxiety. The darkness seems to be developing weight. A weight that presses upon me more and more, threatening to trap me in this noisome void.
Get away. Get away. Get AWAYYYYYY!
My feet move mechanically. My mind tries to focus on something. Anything. I think of childhood birthdays. Of the first day of university. Of staying up all night working on calculations and term papers. They all dissolve into the darkness without, seeping out of me into the black depths. Or perhaps the darkness is seeping in.
Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter...
I almost cry in relief when I am turned again by my guide and see a small red light down the hall. A tiny cherry ember, moving forward, then back. Flaring briefly only to settle back to a steady glow. So caught up in my morbid musings and deep gratitude for a light to life the darkness, it takes me almost a full minute to realize what I am seeing.
Stacia? I ask, puzzlement in my voice, But then...
It is often very dark in our temples at morning prayers. I have become quite adept at moving in the dark. answers Kao Li from my side.
In the strange crimson light of the cigarette, the small Asian monk looks even more sinister, his eyes transformed into pools of darkness that for a moment seem to encapsulate the darkness that still threatens all about us. I look away from him quickly and rudely into the dancing eyes of Stacia. Merriment dances in those eyes, warm and friendly and no less lovely for the strange light that colors them.
I lower my head slowly and murmur, Thank you, sir. I am sure I would have been quite lost without you.
Kao Li gives me his cold smile, all the colder in the half light, and says, It was my duty and my pleasure. And please, it is merely Kao Li. I need no honorific.
Stacia looks between the two of us, that mischievous smile on her face that I am coming to recognize as her normal countenance.
If you two are done trying to out polite the other, why dont we head on in. The partys started without us.
It is then that I notice that Stacia is standing directly in front of a door. Even in the shifting red light I can tell that this door has recently suffered a great deal of stress. It is splintered and warped, though all the damage appears to have come from some force acting upon the other side of it.
As Kao Li takes hold of the door handle, Stacia casually flicks her cigarette into the darkness behind us. I watch it fly, transcribing a false line of light through the air till it finally strikes the stone floor. It bounces twice, tiny sparks bursting out only to be consumed by the hungry dark. As the comforting light fades, I quickly turn my back on it, marveling for but a moment at how quickly we can discard the things we took such relief from. This thought is lost almost immediately in brilliant glow of light coming from the opening door.
and for those of you who like The Adventures of Hunter Cartwright, check out the trailer here
finally, i give you a rather short chapter of The Adventures of Hunter Cartwright. trying to step up my writing this year, be more productive, a better person all that crap...
yeah, who the fuck am i kidding. anyway, enjoy.
Thirteen
As a child, I spent every summer at my grandparents home on the New York coastline. One summer, while wandering about in the small copse of trees that bordered the back of their residence, I came across a fallen wasps nest. It appeared that someone had knocked the hive from its perch on one of the surrounding trees branches, and the resulting fall had split the hive in two, leaving its interior open to the bright summer sunlight. Though afraid of being stung, my childish curiosity finally got the better of me, and I cautiously approached the shattered home of a species that may be more alien to our own then any other upon this earth.
It was horrid. Nothing but tiny, twisting passageways, oddly shaped chambers, and an architectural design that was so foreign that even my young mind was instinctually repulsed by it. My overly excitable imagination soon took over, as I stared with equal parts obscene fascination and morbid revulsion, and tried to imagine what it would be like to have to crawl blindly through such a claustrophobic warren, forever surrounded by equally blind and burrowing creatures. So terrible and repugnant a line of thought this was, that I spent the rest of that summer unable to sleep without dreams of tight, scrabbling blindness.
I no longer have to wonder how those alien hive dwellers must have felt.
The inside of Blackwood Asylum is even more maddening then its outside; a thing I would not have believed possible a moment ago. The hallways twist and writhe with no apparent purpose. Within minutes of entering I am already hopelessly lost. What little sense of direction I may possess rendered completely useless by random turnings and oddly angled walls.
Yet this is not the worst of it. No, the worst is the constant soft noise.
All around us the darkness is filled with soft whisperings, quiet murmurs, and what I am slowly coming to believe are muffled screams. The halls are lined with thick, locked doors, and from each one there comes some dampened sound. A constant susurration that I fear will drive me mad.
The only source of illumination I have witnessed thus far, is the small pocket lamp carried by Dr. Blackwood. Though I have scanned the walls and ceilings since entering, I have witnessed no system for lighting these passageways.
Dr. Blackwood has informed me that many of his patients seem to suffer a great aversion to light. He believes it may have something to do with a fear of having their differences exposed.
Nearly jumping at the soft voice, I look quickly at Kao Li, who has been walking silently beside me, surprise and startlement stamped openly upon my features.
He offers me a small smile, a smile that still does not reach those black, black eyes, and says, Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you. I simply noticed you looking at the walls and ceiling and guessed at your reasons. I observed the same thing myself, and asked Dr. Blackwood about it. He also seems to believe it helps pacify his patients. Something about sleep patterns that I was not sure I followed. Dr. Blackwood has many interesting theories concerning his patients.
I nod, still startled by the small Chinaman. While his explanation makes sense, I am still discomfited by his presence. There is a... stillness to him that seems inhuman. A patience and placidity that are unnatural to the dynamism of Western culture and peoples.
Ahead of us, the light suddenly vanishes as the hallway makes a sharp turn. I stumble a bit at the sudden loss of light. The darkness comes crashing down around me, sucking the air from my lungs. I choke a little, forcing myself to breathe through it. Ive been through worse this evening. Ive been attacked twice by animated dead men. Theres nothing to fear from the dark.
(except there are things to fear IN the dark. things youve never imagined. things like...)
I feel a powerful grip on my arm, with a jump I reach for the revolver which I had tucked into an inner pocket of my coat. A pocket that seems to have been designed for it. Before my trembling hands can even touch the smooth sandalwood grip though, I feel a gentle tug, a quick prod to direct me in the dark. A pull just like the one I felt when Stacia helped me through Hunters home while I was in my... state. With a soft sigh and a lowering of my arm, I follow my invisible guide.
The noise is worse in the dark. It is... louder, somehow. For the first time, I can make out words, even sentences, in the constant susurration of sound.
Mommy. Mommmeeee.
I didnt do it. I swear. Please, no more.
My breathing starts to increase with my rapidly rising anxiety. The darkness seems to be developing weight. A weight that presses upon me more and more, threatening to trap me in this noisome void.
Get away. Get away. Get AWAYYYYYY!
My feet move mechanically. My mind tries to focus on something. Anything. I think of childhood birthdays. Of the first day of university. Of staying up all night working on calculations and term papers. They all dissolve into the darkness without, seeping out of me into the black depths. Or perhaps the darkness is seeping in.
Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter...
I almost cry in relief when I am turned again by my guide and see a small red light down the hall. A tiny cherry ember, moving forward, then back. Flaring briefly only to settle back to a steady glow. So caught up in my morbid musings and deep gratitude for a light to life the darkness, it takes me almost a full minute to realize what I am seeing.
Stacia? I ask, puzzlement in my voice, But then...
It is often very dark in our temples at morning prayers. I have become quite adept at moving in the dark. answers Kao Li from my side.
In the strange crimson light of the cigarette, the small Asian monk looks even more sinister, his eyes transformed into pools of darkness that for a moment seem to encapsulate the darkness that still threatens all about us. I look away from him quickly and rudely into the dancing eyes of Stacia. Merriment dances in those eyes, warm and friendly and no less lovely for the strange light that colors them.
I lower my head slowly and murmur, Thank you, sir. I am sure I would have been quite lost without you.
Kao Li gives me his cold smile, all the colder in the half light, and says, It was my duty and my pleasure. And please, it is merely Kao Li. I need no honorific.
Stacia looks between the two of us, that mischievous smile on her face that I am coming to recognize as her normal countenance.
If you two are done trying to out polite the other, why dont we head on in. The partys started without us.
It is then that I notice that Stacia is standing directly in front of a door. Even in the shifting red light I can tell that this door has recently suffered a great deal of stress. It is splintered and warped, though all the damage appears to have come from some force acting upon the other side of it.
As Kao Li takes hold of the door handle, Stacia casually flicks her cigarette into the darkness behind us. I watch it fly, transcribing a false line of light through the air till it finally strikes the stone floor. It bounces twice, tiny sparks bursting out only to be consumed by the hungry dark. As the comforting light fades, I quickly turn my back on it, marveling for but a moment at how quickly we can discard the things we took such relief from. This thought is lost almost immediately in brilliant glow of light coming from the opening door.
you do know that the rollins show is on the man's birthday, correct?