Snippets of my Imagination

Take a peak inside my mind:

Scene One, dreary, mid day, traffic noise in background:
A man, bloody, torn, dirty, leans on a plain brick wall. He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a slightly bent cigarette. It starts to rain. He looks straight ahead, eyes unwavering, as a song starts to play:
"What a day this has been. What a rare mood I'm in. Well it's almost like being in love. (Sinatra? Martin?)"
He pulls a lighter out of his shirt pocket. He flicks it, it won't light. He throws it, takes the cigarette out of his mouth and throws it as well, then walks away.



I wonder if this is how my Grandmother lost her mind? Forced into a solitary life because of location and society, she didn't have the option of making many friends. So she made one up; one who would never leave or disappoint her. One who would grow old with her and be there when she died. Can you really blame her? The heart can only break so much before it no longer resembles a heart.



Fuck the fame, take the money.




Story Idea:
A man is killed by using the Archimedes mirror method, slowly burned to death. Melting skin, lots of screams. Has to be in the boonies somewhere.



I've come to the realization that I am a predator. I wasn't born one, I actually had a sweet disposition as a child. But from the age of 11 to 17 I had to fight everyday. Not physically, I was too small for hand-to-hand combat. I fought emotion. I learned how to rage on the inside. That killed off my childhood as well as a big chunk of my humanity. Now I seem to be fighting to get it back.

Ta.