Book Of Shadows, Just a place to put my ramblings

Thanks Urian, for sharing that. I really enjoyed reading it.

*hands Urian a 20 for the latest dose of crack*

Just a twenty? Where's my tip?

I've got your tip right here baby!

Ahem...I mean, uh, contact me with an address to mail it to...hehe.

same disclaimer as most of my stuff though I have tried to edit it as much as possible for this forum.
only the 1st short chapter and some of a second of a story I am writing. And, yes, I do relaize it has shades of Jae O'Barr.





oh..by the way





I'm back



Shots rang out in the night, three of them in succession. She didn?t think anything of it, to be honest. She?d lived in the same neighborhood most of her life and had heard worse ,and more, many times before. She also lived close enough to the country that it could have been poachers or something along those lines. The only reason it bothered her was because she?d almost fallen asleep and she hoped that the noise hadn?t awakened her little boy. Checking on him to make sure he was still snoring, she made her way into the kitchen to find a midnight snack before going back to sleep.
After grabbing a bowl of ice cream she sisat down to check her email. Nothing new, some junk mail, one from her sister, a forward from an Italian friend and one from her boyfriend. She was reading them when she heard a knock at the door. It was light at first but got steadily louder. She thought to ignore it because it was probably a drunk knocking on the wrong door again. She was content to wait until she heard her name. It was faint and forced, but it was her name nonetheless.
?Alina...please?open the door.? The voice was her ex-husband?s. Weaker than usual and not as pompous.
?What do you want, David? It?s late and Brian?s asleep so you have no reason to be here.? Her voice was dripping with contempt and hatred for him.
?Alina...I need in?I need you. Please open the door. Please.? He sounded so pathetic when he begged.
Great, he was horny too.? David, You don?t need me. You don?t need anyone but yourself. You?ve proved that to me and the world more times than not. Go away before I call the cops.?
?But...Alina??
?Go away!? She screamed so loudly that she heard Brain stir in his bed. She made sure he was still asleep and made her way back to the living room. He?d stopped knocking. She?d guessed that the threat of the police was enough.
She set back down and opened a folder on her PC entitled masochist and looked at their wedding pictures with a mixture of loss, pain and hatred. She used to hate him for hurting her then it evolved into hating him for living. These days she just hated him for reminding her that she was foolish enough to put her faith and love into one person.
The next morning, as she was getting ready to take Brian to school, she noticed a few drops of dried blood outside her door.
?That bastard got himself into a fight last night. Probably got his nose broken and expected some kind of sympathy from me. Forget him.? She went back in to get Brian and take him to school, cussing her ex-husband the entire time.

Across town, as Alina was opening her door, three men threw a body into a reservoir while a fourth put a duffel bag into the back of their car.
?Are you sure we wont get caught??
?If I wasn?t sure, we wouldn?t be doing this, ok??
?OK. Now no one comes down here except the homeless. If they find him then it?ll be fine. They?ll strip him of anything valuable and if they don?t find him then one of us four will on our patrol of the area. It?s going to be fine.?
They laughed and walked to the car as the man?s body slowly sank to the bottom of its wet grave.

The previous night?

He had taken the same route home for almost a year. He?d never seen anything out
of the ordinary once. But what he had just seen was horrific and now they were after him. He didn?t stand a chance because he was on foot and they had a car?and guns. He tried hiding behind a dumpster and thought he was safe until he saw headlights behind him. He ran and heard three pops. He didn?t realize he?d been shot until he stopped to catch his breath. He knew he was close to his ex-wife?s house and thought that he could get her to help.
She didn?t answer the door. She even threatened to call the police. What irony, to call the very people he was running from. Still, he had to find help because he was losing a massive amount of blood and was getting weaker from running. He didn?t have to worry about running much longer.
He turned the corner and had a barrel in his right eye. Then he had a bullet there.
2

?Wake up.?
?Yesssssssss. Wake up.?
?Such potential you had. Such Talent. All wasted now. They took it from you. Awaken.?
?Arise David Schatz.?
The voices seemed to come from everywhere at once. Distant, cold and raspy, they were incessant and demanding. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the rest that his soul had needed for so long. But the voices wouldn?t stop.
Groggily he asked:? What?what do you want??
?To help you.?
?Help me? Help me do what? Just leave me be.?
? We will not. You had such potential. You were intelligent, crafty and strong. You could have been so much in your life but they took that from you, didn?t they? They took it all.?
His life? Now he was confused. What were these voices talking about? He strained to remember what had been happened and, slowly, it came back. He remembered the running and the gunshots and the feel of the hot lead as it tore through his eye and out his skull.
?I?m dead? I?m dead! Christ, I?m dead. Wait, if I?m dead where are the angels and the bright light and all of that crap? Where is the end if I?m dead??
One of the disembodied voices answered.? You are dead, David Schatz. We pulled you from your journey because we could feel a rage within you. A rage that burned brightly to us. A need for revenge that we could taste. They took everything from you didn?t they, David Schatz? They took what future you may have had; the future love you could have found. They took the time with your son as well. Who is going to raise him and show him how to be a man? Someone else is and it?s those murderers faults. It?s their fault.?
?And what about your ex-wife. You wanted to show her that you were sincere. You wanted her to know how sorry you were for all that had happened. But now you can?t accomplish that. You died with her hating you. That?s not what you wanted, is it? They took it all from you and we offer you the ability to try to set things right. We are offering you the chance to send those murderers to hell. What say you, David Schatz??
The voice spoke true. Everything had been taken away when he was murdered. Every hope of setting things right with Alina, his hopes of ever getting well known as an artist, his future with his son, everything. It was all gone now. And he wanted those responsible to pay.
?What?what do you want in return? No one does anything for free.? He asked the question with a twinge of fear. He didn?t want to make these things mad if they were offering to help him get revenge.
They all laughed in unison, a million whispering voices in a blind darkness laughing. ? We will get what we want as you send the murderers to hell. We were all wrongly murdered or sent to die so we help those we can. So, what say you? Do you wish to go back and reap vengeance against those that have wronged you or do you wish for us to send you back to the afterlife??
David only partially believed their reasoning but he didn?t care if it were Satan himself he was talking to. He was going to go back and set things right.
? I say do your worst, or best. Whichever. I agree.?
There was a long silence and he began to wonder if the voices had left him. Then he heard the faint sound of screaming. It unnerved him because it sounded as if everyone one earth was yelling at the same time. The corny line from Star Wars even went through his head.
The scream hit him like a hurricane. It felt like he was being sand blasted back into life. In the midst of the maelstrom he heard the voices again.
?Yesssssss. So much potential, wasted.?
?Yesssssss. We will have to fix the body, though.?
?Agreed, they made a mess of it, especially his head and eye.?
?It wont be too hard, just long and arduous. But it will be worth it.?
?Don?t fix the eye. We will make it better. He?ll need all the help we can give him.?
?Done.?
?Yesssss. Done.?
?Wake up David Schatz. Wake up and reap death.?


His head felt like a freight train had just rolled over it. He didn?t remember drinking last night but that was the problem with getting too drunk, sometimes he didn?t remember doing it. And whatever he drank gave him the oddest dream he had ever had.
His alarm clock hadn?t gone off yet but he was awake so he decided to get up, but he couldn?t. He couldn?t stretch or move more than a few inches in any direction.
Panic started setting in and he tried to open his eyes but found they were held together. He strained his eyelids and they started to open. Panic and horror set in completely when he saw thread. Someone had sown his eyes shut! He tried to scream but his mouth was shut as well. When he grabbed at his lips he felt thread there as well!
What the hell was going on here? What had happened? Primal panic set in and he began kicking and punching until the space above him gave way and dirt started pouring in. He blacked out after that but he awoke face down in the open air.
His mouth and eyes were still threaded shut so, with a deep breath, he pulled the stitching free and screamed as blood ran down his face.
He lay there sobbing for an eternity. What had happened? Where was he? Who had done this? Then he took notice of his surroundings. A cemetery. He was in a cemetery.
?Oh, god.? He gasped through threaded lips.? It wasn?t a dream. I was dead.?
The revelation sent shivers down his spine. He was a zombie or something. He was a walking corpse. What the hell had happened to him?
The voices. He remembered the voices and the reason he came back. They said he could set things right and he would, but how could he if he were a zombie?
His question was partially answered when he felt movement in his chest. He had a heart beat and he had bled so he couldn?t be dead. He couldn?t be what people considered dead, anyway.
Unconsciously he touched his lips to find them healed already and it was the same with his eyes, so, he was healed and alive. But what now?
His first thought was to go to Alina?s house but he reconsidered due to the fact that his clothes were tattered, covered with dirt and seeing her dead husband might not be the best thing, right now.
?My place. I need to get to my place soon.? With that thought he set out in the direction he thought his apartment was.

Honestly urian, from writer to writer, this story is really creative. Hope to read more of your work!

Thanks ,Haldur.
I had a page on deviantart but I took it down. I am working one about 4 novellas right now and thats the newest one.
My other stuff is a tad darker tan this will be.

thansk again, haldur

no problem. i've been having a lot of ideas here lately myself...actually posted a story entitled "the mirror in the corner" in Short Stories but I had to have my friend Aaediwen pull it for editing purposes.

i'm interested in getting a story out of my head and onto my hard drive, paper, napkin, or whatever...it's started to materialize somewhat but i'm just having trouble getting it out. any thoughts?

I left a few thoughts on the between authors thread but another thing I do is always carry a pen and notebook(small or large) with me. if I cant bring a notebook then at least a pen and I write everythign that comes to mnid. I have a backpack full of scraps of paper with thoguths on them and a lot of them end up ebcoming lines in a story I am wriitin at the time.

maybe that'll help.

Thank you, urian. I guess it's easy to see that I've been putting off the writing...I've had "writer's block" off and on for about a year or more, read books on "the block", even posted on HR about stories; my thing is just getting the guts to write it down and let others read it. Perhaps I'm just to self-critical.

self critical? Yeppers. i know that one all too well.
Part of the reason I find it hard to write is because I am far too critcal of my writing. I always see the holes, errors and room for improvement. no matter how good others see it, it will always look like a 4 year old wrote it to me.

also, I am afraid of others reading it as well. I think thats one reason I post some one here. Its like a shy person taking a job where they are forced to be outgoing in an attempt to overcome their shyness.


if that makes any sense.

P.s.

I cant reply to your email if you dont make room in your inbox

Or like trying to record an audio CD because the thought of recording yourself, let alone hearing yourself recorded, scares you more than the thought of exile on a desert island listening to the Llama song for 10 years.

WOW!

COOL sotry! Now you've got me hooked! Keep up the good work

And welcome back home! HUGS I've missed you, my friend!

Or like trying to record an audio CD because the thought of recording yourself, let alone hearing yourself recorded, scares you more than the thought of exile on a desert island listening to the Llama song for 10 years.

BINGO!
Hello, Aaediwen.


thanks, Wizard. I have to say that its nice to be back amung familiar and friendly people. I have missed you guys

I hear you guys there! Recording I don't have too much of a problem with because I'm so used to doing that so much. I love music, I love writing...just can't get over that hump.

Solution: just write more and to hell with my fears, right?

Right.

Oh yeah, I feel utterly embarrassed about the whole PM/message thing! Aaediwen let me in on it this morning when I got to work because I didn't get back online last night (my wife had to check her e-mail, plus it was mighty close to bedtime!)
Anywho, Aaediwen and I figured it out and we got all the sent items deleted. Forgot about those! LOL

Oh well...it feels good to be so absent minded sometimes.

Btw, where are my keys again?