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 |  Three Shades of the Moon
Self help is not all doom and gloom and being told what to do. I help myself, and blog. |
 The Three Wolves An elderly Cherokee Native American was teaching his grandchildren about life... He said to them, "A fight is going on inside me, it is a terrible fight and it is between three wolves. The first wolf is good – He is Joy, Peace, Love, Hope, Sharing, Serenity, Humility, Kindness, Benevolence, Friendship, Empathy, Generosity, Truth, Compassion and Faith. The second wolf is evil -- He is Fear, Anger, Envy, Sorrow, Regret, Greed, Arrogance, Self-pity, Guilt, Resentment, Inferiority, Lies, False pride, Competition, Superiority, and Ego. The third wolf is both – Creative, Inspiring, Responsible, Concentration, Intelligence, Music, Curiosity, Flexibility, Originality, Flexible, Imaginative, Cynical; Rebellious,Defiant; Stubborn;Courageous, Self-confident, Reliable, and Dependable, Sense of Humor, Resilient, Thoughtful, Confident, and Passionate. This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too." They thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The old Cherokee simply replied: "The one you feed".  Joy, Peace, Love, Hope, Sharing, Serenity, Humility, Kindness, Benevolence, Friendship, Empathy, Generosity, Truth, Compassion and Faith.  Fear, Anger, Envy, Sorrow, Regret, Greed, Arrogance, Self-pity, Guilt, Resentment, Inferiority, Lies, False pride, Competition, Superiority, and Ego.  Creative, Inspiring, Responsible, Concentration, Intelligence, Music, Curiosity, Flexibility, Originality, Flexible, Imaginative, Cynical; Rebellious,Defiant; Stubborn;Courageous, Self-confident, Reliable, and Dependable, Sense of Humor, Resilient, Thoughtful, Confident, and Passionate. Lone I will always live wandering, in a time without season. The inner depths of my soul was ripped, and held captive in the closed universe called misery. Someone may see the invisible blood I've bled. Forgotten dreams lost in emptiness comforts me once again in this silence. Alone, this road I travel as the night surrounds me, comforting me once again in this place I have come to know so well. Lonewolf is my name, and through my writing, You read my journey through life. Interested in my blog? Here are a few others I made:
 Quotes "Sleep is sometimes that elusive lover that leaves you wanting more." Lonewolfmcq “The secret of life…is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.”
Paulo Coelho, from The Alchemist |
| When the blank hits the fan... |
| You know, I’ve been trying to find a good way to release the anger that is coursing through me and like always the best course of action is to write. I can’t pinpoint exactly what about my day has upset me so much, though it’s probably the conversations with my siblings. The constant bickering back and forth, on top of the fact that one can bend over backward, forward, and sideways, to make sure they have what they need. Yet, when someone comes to them in dire straits they seemingly forget about what was done for them. Who needs enemies when you have a family that can stab you in the back? Walk on you while you’re down gasping for breath in shock that you’ve been stabbed, and not give a damn about you? My head is killing me right now. I'm dreading the next few days, and the fact that there is a holiday Monday, doesn't fill me with anything good either. I wish there were somewhere I could go to get away from all of this, but in the end I know I'm screwed one way or another. I said I wanted life to be different this year. Life had something else in mind, lol. Well played life, well played. |
| Meh. |
| "If you would all take a seat, I'd like to get this briefing underway," announced Agent stick up his butt, who added as an after thought, "You may call me Agent Jack, or just Jack, and as for my partner, you may call her Agent Jill, or just Jill." Agent Jack said. Ryan couldn't help but laugh thinking of the nursery rhyme, and was very tempted to ask whether they went up a hill carrying a pail of water. He was happy to find that he wasn't the only one to find it funny. The southern belle introduced earlier laughed along with him, but the seriousness of Jack's tone stopped any and all laughter. He set down a briefcase on the desk, opened it, and pulled out a tablet and a small projector device. "We have a clear and present threat in our midst. The United States government has recognized the innovation achieved here at Meta Genics, and while they do not usually partner with private organizations, the Commander and Chief has recently approved of a partnership that now exists between our government and MG. MG has now launched its latest project: Operation Oracle. That's where you guys come in." Agent Jack explained He picked up a tiny remote and pressed a button. A holographic screen blinked into view on the wall facing them. On the wall there was an image of a building, it had white washed walls, with sentries posted inside and outside the gates. From the images that flashed across the wall, someone had taken detailed pictures of the compound that included a few of people in orange jump suits, seemingly working out. Ryan found all of this boring, and really wanted to know when things were going to get interesting. The other girl introduced earlier turned and gave him a questioning look. He remembered her name was Janie, or something like that. He gave her a sly smile, to which she made a noise of disgust, and turned her head back to pay attention to Agent Jack. "This place is the beginning of the reason you are here." Jack was saying, now that Ryan was paying attention again. "We have brought you in, not only to protect you from these people, but to utilize your unique gifts in an effort to take them down." Jack continued, his hand pressed the button for the image to change on the wall. "These people who you see in this compound are like you in a way. Each and every one of them have a unique gift, however, they are being used to commit criminal acts under the guise that they are on the right side of justice." Jill took over. "We have taken the initiative in bringing the lot of you into our organization to not only protect you as Agent Jack mentioned earlier, but your families as well." Jill explained, her revelation sparked a murmur between everyone gathered together. Ryan thought about his dad, and the last thing he said to him. An ache filled his heart momentarily shaking him to his core. "What about our parents?" Ryan asked, he wondered what the old man was doing. "Well," Agent Jack began, "We've tried to bring some of your parents into the program, but not all of them were interested." "Yeah, I would've told you my old man wouldn't have anything to do with this," The wrestler guy cut in. Ryan remembered his name as Logan, and made the mental note of not to get on his bad side, nor meet up with him in a dark alley. The dude was seriously ripped. "Yes, well, we haven't heard his answer yet," Agent Jack replied. The look on Logan's face was one of surprise, but he quickly hid it back under the guise of indifference. "What about my parents?" Ryan asked, impatiently. Jill spoke this time, "It would seem that your father is willing to help, however, your mother chose witness protection." He let out a sigh of relief, "Yeah, that sounds like them." Ryan had tensed his muscles in anticipation for the answer, having gotten it he relaxed. "Where's my dad? Is he here?" Ryan asked, looking around to see if his dad was somewhere waiting to jump out. His father had a way of doing odd things like that. The two Agents exchanged looks,"Your father is in another sector of the program," Agent Jack answered. Ryan wanted to listen to the rest of what the Agents were saying, but his stomach had other ideas. Agent Jack was in the middle of explaining when they would have their first mission when Ryan’s stomach groaned. The sound itself drew the attention of not only the Agents, but his fellow team members as well. “Heh, I guess I’m hungry,” Ryan smiled. His cheeks were on fire, which meant he most likely had turned a violent shade of red.. “I could eat,” Logan added. “We’ll break for now, so you all can get used to the facilities. Each of you have your own room to do with what you want.” Agent Jack explained. “Great! I’m starving.” Ryan shouted, jumping up from the table. "Before you leave Mr. Adams, you need to receive your call sign, along with your room key card." Agent Jill called. Ryan stopped in his tracks, realizing he didn't know where he would get food from. |
| My Anniversary |
| Six long and wonderful years. More to be added later. |
| Something from before |
| Name: Ethan Lancaster Occupation: Pizza maker at Papadopalis Pizzeria Transportation: Public Transportation due to having his license revoked for street racing Weapon: Sawed off shot gun affectionately called his “boomstick“a reference to the Evil Dead, his favorite movie. “Damn it,” I said silently as I watched the time pass on my watch. I had to be at the shop at 10:30 this morning, but looking at my watch for the what felt like 50th time, it was about to be 11:15. If that wasn’t bad enough I have probably have a bunch of phone calls, but do to horrible luck I don’t have my cell phone because I decided to trust what the manufacturer said, and took the phone with me to sit on the bathroom counter top. I got out of the shower to find that the glass on the phone was clouded and unresponsive. “Hey! Taxi! Over here!” I shouted. I had seen the yellow checker cab perform a perfect U turn in the middle of 87th and commercial which was something I always loved to do when in my Shelby. Just thinking of my baby purring down the street put a smile on my face. I was disheartened over the fact that I couldn’t drive my baby, and had to get in this run down rusting bucket of bolts. When the cab pulled around I opened the door and hopped in only to find the back of the cab smelled like cheap cigars, sex, and B.O. If you have never smelled anything of the sort I for one can tell you that it smelled messed up. “Where are you going bub?” I heard the driver ask with a craggy voice. I was instantly tempted to say, “Yo, homes to Bel-Air.” Since I was no Fresh Prince and I was already late for work I simply said, “Take me to 35th and Exchange.” I was able to see my reflection in the front car mirror which helped me make sure I at least didn’t have anything in my hair. Looking at my hazel brown eyes I could tell that I had spent too much time on the PlayStation the night before. My black medium length straight hair kind of hung evenly over my head telling me that I needed to get a haircut after work today, and the rings under my eyes shown clearly on my mocha colored skin meant that I need to cut out the late nights for a while. There was something being talked about on the radio of the cab which piqued my interest. So, I asked the cabbie to turn it up. “There are mass breaking and entering incidents occurring throughout the city. “ The reporter was saying. “ "We... urge everyone to remain calm. Just stay inside and do not let anyone in your house," the reporter said finally. The cabbie turned the station. “I hate the news,” he said before lighting the cigar he took the time to place in his mouth. My mind was on getting to work in time to plead for my job and give a good excuse for the reason I was late. I was abruptly brought out of my own thoughts when another car hit the cab I was in. Everything went black as the cab flipped over. The last thing that I heard was the crunching of metal and of course the universal language of all who are in a car accident. “Shit!” |
| Too much time on my hands |
| Today is May 16th, and life has proven to be difficult, well more difficult as of late. I have nearly all the things a man could ask for, yet still there are things I want. I try to be the best man that I can, and still there are instances that I wish I were better. I have a family I would easily lay my life on the line for, and I have on a few occasions. I have friends that I keep in touch with when I can. I have friends that I don’t keep in touch with regularly, but those friends call me a bad friend, and I suppose that I am in that regard. 2013 has been a ride that I’m still trying to stand firm. |
| Star Trek - Unknown |
| Name: Kyrax Ral Race: Betazoid Rank/Position: Counselor/ Lt. Commander Age: 30 Appearance: http://i41.tinypic.com/11h7x21.jpg At 6’4”, 225 lbs, he is tall and well built, but lanky, with black eyes and black hair. His most notable feature is the almost hypnotic, penetrating intensity of his gaze. He does not smile often, but when he does, the genuine warmth he displays tends to set at ease those who might have been intimidated by his size and presence, that is, unless they have something to hide. Background: Kyrax was born and grew up on Betazed, in the Valley of Song. He was one of the rare Betazoid children whose telepathic abilities manifested early, in fact, he showed signs of possessing them from birth, and thus was not considered suitable to be genetically bonded to a future mate. Kyrax’s parents, Jana and Aszuma Ral, were of modest but comfortable means, a kind, loving couple efficiently placed among the Betazoid middle class. They became alerted to their son’s telepathic precociousness in time to get him into therapy while he was still an infant, and thus he has spent his entire life involved with various types of counseling procedures, entering the field of counseling as an adult was a natural choice. Kyrax ’s parents still live on Betazed, where they continue to maintain a successful joint business as landscape architects. Some of the most ingenious gardens in Rixx are of their design. Kyrax keeps in touch with them as when he can, and the family retains a warm, close relationship. Kyrax is the eldest child, with two sisters, identical twins, now 19, and a younger brother, 24. Kyrax’s father’s eldest brother, Arnal Jackson, (Arnal changed his lastname when he went to Starfleet Academy) was a member of Starfleet. He only made it Lt. Junior Grade, but before his death in the line of duty he used to tell wonderful stories of journeying among the stars when he would visit Kyrax’s home. He served as a Science officer with the main fleet, under Captain Alexander Bell’s command. Kyrax’s parents, blinded by their love for their ‘special’ son, could not imagine Kyrax leaving Betazed. Kyrax himself, however, had other ideas. As soon as his education on Betazed was completed, he contacted his uncle and arranged to attend Starfleet Academy. Kyrax was a Counseling major at Starfleet Academy, with an emphasis in practical therapeutic techniques applicable to life on a starship, including music, dance, and horticultural therapy. He also received extensive First Contact training. At the Academy, Kyrax finally found at least some of the acceptance he had longed for. So much diversity made the differences between him and the other sentient beings he met fade to insignificance the common goal of graduating and becoming Starfleet officers proved sufficient to outweigh them. He retained his reserved personality, but he did learn to lighten up considerably, especially on outings with his friends to the music-soaked “hot spots” in the San Francisco area. Kyrax is accomplished in several forms of primarily defensive martial arts, especially favoring an old Earth form known as Capoeira, which, in its modern form, combines moves taken from Karate and Tae Kwon Do with its more traditional maneuvers. Capoeira is derived primarily from the regions once known as Africa on Earth, rather than from the Orient. It emphasizes fast acrobatic maneuvers as feints to facilitate effective striking techniques, combined with locks, throws, and leg sweeps. Music and dancing are also taught in the traditional modes, especially in Brazil, the center of the art for the last several centuries. There, Capoeira is considered almost as much a performing art as a form of combat. *Right**Down**Up**Down**Left* Name: Zorak Race: Romulan/Vulcan/Human Rank/Position: Chief Tactical/Security Officer Age: 30 Appearance: http://www.wildsoundmovies.com/images/star_trek_evil_spock.jpg Background: Zorak was born in a Romulan lab on Romulan Prime in an effort to replace Spock by cloning him, removing most of his human DNA only to replace it with Romulan to make up for any discrepancies. He was the only test subject that lived past infancy. However, thanks to the efforts of an unknown agent the lab was destroyed, and he was then spirited away to the Federation before he was given an aging drug, and before much of the programming could be administered.. He was finally accepted into Starfleet academy after an anonymous donation in his name to the academy along with a letters of recommendation from his foster family, and Ambassador Sarek. While in the Academy, Zorak Majored in Tactics and Strategic Operations while achieving honors in Military History; Advanced Tactics and Strategies; As well as graduating with top honors at the Federation War College and graduating third in his class. Zorak is also a qualified small craft pilot, certified for everything from shuttles to Runabouts. Zorak is a student of military history and his abilities and scores in tactical simulations are nothing short of astounding. He seems to have an intuitive grasp of strategy and how to best make use of whatever resources or weapons he has available to exploit the weaknesses of his opponents. While his battle plans are extensive and cover almost every contingency, he has an uncanny ability to compensate and adjust when everything goes wrong without so much as batting an eye. Zorak consistently scores at Marksman level with hand held weapons and has achieved a 3rd degree black belt in Aikido and has earned his second degree in Kendo. Preferred weapons are either two (One in each hand), Type 2 Phaser’s or a Type 3 Phaser rifle. He is also a dangerous duelist with either a katana or with his preferred weapon, a Klingon Bat'leth. Personality: He exhibits traits mostly of a Vulcan while his Romulan side shows itself when it comes to the benefit of his crew members or in battle. Due to his traces of human DNA his calm demeanor lasts for only so long before the emotion overflows causing him to lose control. He is determined to change the way people look down on him for the origin of his birth. He also has a soft spot for children who have either no parents, or have lost their parents. - - - Kyrax Ral sat up in his bed and watched as a star ship drifted by. He had several drifting around his quarters. He made them, all of them were exact replicas right down to the interior. He had a good feeling about today. It was his day off and he had just the thing in mind. He was going to build a new ship for his collection. This one held a certain appeal to him, as he was intimately familiar with it's interior. It was the USS Infinity herself. He had the time now before his date with Itara Bradley, it would be their second date, something they kept under the radar of everyone on the ship. The memory of meeting her in Star fleet for the first time was definitely memorable. She had wasted an entire cup of Klingon Chili soup in his lap. It was what transpired afterward that caused his heart to ache. “How the hell did we both end up on the same ship,” he asked to no one in-particular. With a sigh he went about building the first star ship he had been assigned. The replicator making the parts would help things go faster, though he found putting it all together was the best part. He felt he could make a great deal of progress, as he was going to make it his largest model yet. Gently moving aside a Nebula class ship, he stood and went through his morning routine. With that out of the way, a smile crossed his face as he sat down at the table he had maneuvered near the replicator. His box of tools sat close to him, tweezers, glue and other assorted things of that nature. His smile turned to a bit of a frown as he saw that the repulsors he used to keep the ship aloft were too few in number for the project he had in mind. He knew where he could find some, down in engineering, but didn't want to go down there unless he had to. Not that he hated the place, but he wanted to keep his distance from Itara, it was all he could do to keep his distance from her, which I one of the reasons he kept himself busy with mundane If he could find no other way around asking for a few repulsors he would cross that hurdle when he had to install them. He managed to get through most of the main fuselage decks when there was a call on the ships internal communication network. Turning on the computer, he gave it a displeased glare. The face on the other end was that of the one woman who had a way to make his blood boil especially with the way he would ramble on about all things scientific when she was nervous. She hadn’t changed much since their time together at the Academy. Itara Bradley was one woman who he just couldn’t read easily. Although, he came to know that her name wasn’t Itara, it was Kutara, a name passed down through her family for generations. He always told her it was a beautiful name, and that would make her turn a bright shade of crimson. Around other people she had a nervousness that caused her to ramble, but around him, she was more herself, more confident in her own skin. It didn’t happen right away which is one of the reasons she spilled the Klingon soup in his lap on their first meeting. “I-I was wondering if you could come down to engineering.” Itara stuttered. Itara looked around, like she was looking for a place to hide. Wringing her hands as she spoke, an action he knew she did most when she was nervous even though he couldn’t see all of her at the moment, he could always tell by the way she was fidgeting. "Uh..Counselor? We have...a slight...very slight, not anything major, uh, problem down here..." Kyrax’s expression changed from a look of annoyance, "So, Kutara, if it's so minor why does it need my attention?" At the mention of her true name she had the look on her face like she was plunged in a pool of cold water. Kutara, also had a tendency of downplaying serious matters. "Well, you see..." She gave a nervous smile, "There seems to be a bit of a disagreement, sir..." Kyrax held up a hand to give her some time to breathe, "Let me guess, it's Isaias and Caevra?" Caevra was a Talaxian who was rather outspoken and opinionated. Unfortunately, he also thought his opinion was one of the only ones that mattered. Isaias was a Rigelian, given to following orders and making sure the ship was running as per specs. Kyrax gave a sigh, and a slightly sorrowful glance at his model, "I'll be down in a minute..." As he entered main engineering, he could hear the commotion. Or at least one half of it. Caevra was yelling at the top of his lungs, while Isaias spoke in even measured tones. Kyrax sighed and walked up to the argument, sometimes being the ships’ counselor was a Kutara fell into a spot slightly behind Kyrax, looking more nervous than a Chief of Engineering. After a moment of observing the dispute and hearing some of what it was about, Kyrax cut it in , "GUYS! Mind telling the Chief Engineer the problem?" Both had snapped their heads to look at him when he gave his brief shout. Caevra almost recoiled as he saw a rather perturbed looking Kyrax standing right next to their heated argument. Isaias was the first to rally himself to speak, "Crewman Caevra seems to think that by periodically reversing certain conduit polarity, we can increase power levels by 5 to 10 percent." The Rigelian gave a look to the Talaxian. "Those systems would suffer almost irreparable damage from that course of action." Kutara interrupted, she had momentarily lost that nervousness. She was in her element. Kutara gave another line of inquiry, "Which systems?" Caevra paused, slightly confused. He hadn't expected his commanding officer to ask about it, "Uh...replicators and weapons, sir..." Kutara thought for a minute before responding, she bit her lip, a sign that she was doing deep scientific calculations. He always thought that was cute. “Our weapons might be able to take the surges it would create, but it might also shorten the life span of the arrays.” Kutara said. “Not a great sounding option.” Kyrax replied. “The replicators on the other hand, they would need to be switched out all over the ship.” Kutara surmised, turning her gaze upon Caevra. “Do you have any data to support this, Caevra?" Kyrax asked. "Yes, sir!" he handed Kyrax a data pad, "That's what I was trying to tell thi-" Kyrax had fixed him with a glare he had seen Kyrax use a number of times. Mostly on the captain. It made the Talaxian stop in his thought process. Kyrax held his gaze on Caevra pushing away the thoughts that plagued the man. He handed the device over to Kutara, who thumbed through the information on the small device. Kyrax could feel her annoyance as it grew until she was done reading through it. “These tests and simulations had lead to a 75 percent chance of weapon failure upon sustained use, and the replicators were out of operation 66 percent of the time. Not to mention the rate of conduit failure.” she explained, handing the data pad back to Caevra. Kyrax had seen her anger all of twice in their time together, and by the way her skin flared a threatening crimson, not to mention the emotion pouring off her, he could tell that she was about to blow. After a quick prayer to the Prophets, she laid into the hapless Talaxian. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? The data there shows that we would be with out weapons in the middle of a firefight!" she fumed."By the Prophets you are thick! With out our arrays, we would be the biggest target in the sector, are you trying to get us destroyed?" She took a breath, "Not to mention that the rate of conduit failure is out side acceptable parameters." "B-but, the regulations say the acceptable rate of fai-" Caerva took a step back as a very angry Kutara leveled another glare at him. Kyrax looked at the three of them, and decided that his work here was done. He admired the way Kutara stood up for herself and the ship that she was Chief of. Another part of him wanted to be with her again, but she was the one to walk away in pursuit of her career. It still bothered him that she had done this, but ultimately it had been her choice. Still, he could never shake the love he held for her. Now that the heat of the moment was gone she seemed to be returning to herself as if she was a different person. "Ku--I mean Itara, do you think I could have a few small repulsors for some of my models?" A small smile crept across Itara's face," Still with the Star ship models, huh?" "Oh, yes, I'm up to 15 ships now," Kyrax replied, clasping his hands behind his back. He could feel a surge of warm memories coursing through her. It was powerful, and while she took a moment to look at him, she seemed to remember who and what he was. The sudden emotion he felt from her was replaced by uncertainty. He decided to let it go, and wait for her to come to him when she was ready. "I'll be back later to see about those repulsors." he told her. "Y-yes, later," she agreed. |
| No idea... |
| I was in daze as I walked down the street thinking about the weird day that I have been having. I could not stand this new neighbor I had been forced to endure since my dad could not find any other job and on top of that my mother was having a problem with alcohol and cigarettes’. “How was it that my life had been wonderful in Chicago and suddenly here in Colorado everything has gone to hell?” I asked myself. My mind seemed to pause as if waiting for an answer that was not going to come then went on with my continued thoughts about the girl I met, well not technically met because she was talking to some muscle guy at least ten times bigger than myself. She had raven colored hair and olive skin complexion. Her eyes were the color of green jade with a tinge of mischief, a smile that took my breath away. I learned later that she was one of the most popular girls in school. Samantha McDonald, my future wife in my head. The sky was a bright blue as I was walking home, but there seemed to be something wrong about it, not entirely blue, but relatively calm unlike when I first arrived here, it was a lot of rain |
| Apoc |
| Griffin watched the human populous walking seemingly without a care in the world from the safety of his motorcycle. He had always wanted one and received one from his mother as a gift for completing the Westchester Chicago Police Academy. Originally, he wanted to be just like Ponch from the show ‘CHiPs’. He had admired the way they stood up for justice, plus the bike looked great. The bitterness of reality bit into his moment of revelry melting the hint of a smile that threatened to spread across his lips like a disease. Griffin wouldn't get that chance because of jealousy. He shook his head trying to remove any remnant thought of his time with the WCPD. He was on a mission today, however. After the disappearance of his mother his aunt Melanie stepped up and took the place of looking after him when he really needed someone. She believed as he did; that his mother was still alive out there somewhere. They both had the hope that she somehow made it to an island, or washed up on a beach with amnesia. There were always stories like that. Unfortunately, that was nearly three years ago. A lot of things have changed in that short amount of time. Griffin came to a stop light feeling the hum of the engine of his Yamaha V Max. The last time he had seen his mother he was wearing his police uniform and had arranged to accompany her as a police escort to the city docks to see her off on her cruise. He received a lot of flack because he wanted to be around his mother. “Oh Griffers, this is so wonderful!” she cried. She was wearing a dazzling purple and gold sequence blouse with a purple sequence skirt. Her Griffin had bought this for her to take on her trip. He had even sprung for a day at the spa for her, followed up with a trip to a hair dresser. He remembered the little nickname she would call him. Although, initially he didn’t care for the name because it sounded close to a dogs or cats, yet he would do just about anything to hear it now. With a sigh he leaned into the turn down a long country road. His aunt waited patiently for his mother to return, and even when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer she still clung to the hope that her big sister would return to them. He remembered waking up in her hospital room to find that she was no longer breathing. Griffin focused on the low hum of the motorcycle engine to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks. The road to the cemetery was long, but it was a year to the day she left him to be with God, and he had flowers for her grave. It was her wish to be buried in the families country cemetery. An old homestead had been passed down through the family for generations. He always loved it when his mother would take him out to the old place. He loved being around the horses, and taking care of the pigs. He had a sharp pain in his heart at the memory of his mother. She would always laugh at the way he loved to get dirty in the pens. He came to a stop around the country lane marked by a post with three signs, the first indicated the direction he wanted to go. As he drove past he noticed a strange looking farmer seemingly out for a stroll, although the way he staggered around made Griffin wonder. He would have stopped to ask what the problem was, but knew country folk liked to stay to themselves. ~ ~ ~ He pulled up outside the cemetery gates, hopping off his bike. He went to the back and grabbed the flowers he placed there. The cool night air whipped around his face with purpose. Griffin wasn’t sure he was up for what he had to do tonight, but he remembered his aunts words to him the night before she passed. “I may not be here for very long, if there is anything that you remember about me and your mom is that we both love you so much,” he remembered her say. The moment she said them it brought tears to his eyes. “Don’t say,” he began, but she cut him off. “Shh, now you listen.” she scolded. “We both love you and are proud of you. I’m still waiting for my sister to come home, but if I’m not here to see that happen you have to be strong while I’m not here.” The memory was like a slap in the face. He stowed away all his misgivings and walked through the cemetery gates. There were headstones scattered along the road of the |
| Done |
| “DAMN IT!” Ryan heard the director yell. The man was going to have a heart attack with the way he was raving and ranting. It took seven people to hold him back away from Ryan. "Calm down, it's alright. We got the shot didn't we?" Ryan reasoned. The resounding explosion behind them along with the two people deep in conversation with the director made Ryan think about how all of this began... He had been approached by the two people speaking with Karl who seemed to be uptight. However, the woman had a nice look to her, and definitely had potential to be fun. Ryan was in his dressing room, which was a failed attempt of being a dressing room. The room itself was a shabby throw together place with dark tanned spots engraved on the walls where water had clearly fell due to flooding from above. There was small bits of trash on the floor which alerted him to the fact it hadn't been cleaned. He did have chairs that he could sit him, but they smelled stale, and when he sat down there was a cloud of dust that threatened to choke him. Ryan had been waiting for his cue to go on the set for the big car scene that was to be their very last shot of the production. Ryan sat in the failed attempt at a dressing room when he heard a knock on the door. He was used to fans getting through security trying to get close to Alexander Harbinger, a.k.a. superstar actor. In reality he was a douche nozzle that liked to treat people like crap. Alexander was the supposed hero of the film Ryan found himself in: The Return of Bounty Hunter Jack Harkness. “Listen ladies...” Ryan began, with a wide grin as he opened the door to the room. The smile died on his lips when Ryan opened the door to find a tall guy in a black suit and tie, and a woman wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt. “Uh...hello?” Ryan said,but came up as an awkward question. “Ryan Adams?” The tall man with the straight face asked. He reminded Ryan of Agent K from Men in Black. The thought nearly made him laugh out loud, but he kept his composure. Ryan looked at the man, then his eyes rested on the woman standing next to him. Both wore the no non-sense visage, but the woman gained his full attention with her physically fit physique that presented itself from her modest wear. Ryan took his time checking her out thoroughly. She was made nice, standing around 5'4, much shorter than her partner. He stood about 6'1, the same height as Ryan. Her brown eyes analyzed him as his blue eyes did her. She stifled a smile when he made eye contact with her. It was here that he popped into character, “Yes, I’m Ryan Adams,” he replied with a deliberate smile in the woman’s direction. No woman can resist this smile, he thought when he noticed the rosy color in her cheeks. Ryan had been fixated on the man’s partner, he had nearly forgotten about him. However, the clearing of his throat in an overly dramatic way caught Ryan’s attention again. “Ryan Adams, we’ve come to proposition you,” the man began. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, look, I’m already a part of a few films. I just don’t have time for anything else. Now, I’m flattered you brought this beautiful woman here with you, but I’m stretched to the limit as it is.” Ryan cut in. “No, you don’t understand,” the man insisted. “No, I get it. You need a famous stunt driver, moi, but my schedule is full.” Ryan finished, flashing another smile. It had no effect on the woman this time, much to his dismay. “We aren’t with a film company Mr. Adams,” The woman replied. “Okay then, who the hell are you people?” Ryan demanded, looking from one to the other for some form of answer. “Like I said earlier, we’ve come to proposition you,” the Man began again with a gravelly voice. "Uh huh, you mentioned that," Ryan replied impatiently. "Got anything new to say?" His calm mask rippled allowing a flash of anger to place itself on his face. "We're putting together a group of people." Just then a group of young women came rushing toward the dressing room. Something made Ryan feel uneasy about this whole situation. On any other day he would partake in beautiful ladies that would frequent the studio in search of autographs or some one on one time with a star. Today wasn’t one of those days. When the ladies swarmed the room Ryan used that distraction to slip away from the odd couple. He made it to the set. It was a large building that connected to an area the size of four football fields. Karl sat in the director chair imprinted with just that in bold large letters. "RYAN!" Karl yelled through the bullhorn he carried around everywhere on set. "Hello to you too Karl, you know I was about 8 feet from you, so...the horn isn't necessary," Ryan sighed. "Listen up smart-ass," Karl began. Ryan at the sound of this turned his head to look at his behind so he could catch a glimpse of it doing something smart. Karl continued like he hadn't seen the gesture, "Get in the car over there, drive into the warehouse via the open door, then out through the fiery wall on the opposite side of the door." Karl finished. "Sure, sounds...boring," Ryan replied, heading for the 67' Olds mobile. It was an old car, but seemed to been taken care of by its previous owners. "I don't want you messing this up Adams! You do this exactly as I said and not a hair different." Karl commanded. Ryan turned abruptly back toward Karl and gave him a military salute. Karl in return flashed Ryan the finger, to which Ryan held his heard like he had been hurt. Ryan re-approached the stunt car, it was a smooth black and was made for durability. Once he was inside the car he was given the green light. The warehouse was set aflame. As he sat behind the wheel, his pulse quickened. His hand was on the clutch just in-case he needed to use the e brake for a quick turn. He pushed the gas pedal down to the floor, and felt that familiar jolt of the car accelerating forward. It was a feeling he knew too well.Upon entering the warehouse he adjusted the car so it would hit the side of a set of stairs. It set up a perfect ramp for the window. Turning the wheel ever so slightly he hit the stairs at a smooth 55 mph. The warehouse was set ablaze because the scene called for the hero to drive into the burning warehouse and through the wall. It was all a lead up for the hero to rescue the girl who was being held hostage on the docks by the villain of the film. As the car neared the large window Ryan saw that the car was wider than what the window would permit. The flames licked all around the edges of the window in a beautiful array of yellow, orange, and blue. There was something about fire that just seemed to excite Ryan down to his very core. Fire grows at the speed of the wind, fueled by a tornado it’ll be unstoppable. It burns and burns until there is nothing left. Fire is free from the constraints of everything, and freedom is what Ryan craved with such passion he wished he could be the flames themselves. He’s always had an affinity for it, and only truly enjoyed it when he discovered it couldn’t hurt him. He learned early on that he could sit for hours in a place of flames with the only worry being him not being flattened by a heavy beam. The smoke of the burning wood didn’t even phase him, where others would be coughing up a lung. Ryan seemed to flourish in such an atmosphere. He had been given the do what I tell you and not what you want to do speech by the director, Karl Brubaker. A big time film director that made a movie a couple years before that brought in a whooping 157 million dollars and instant fame. ~ ~ ~ Looking around Ryan could tell there was going to be some serious questions to answer later. Things had gone from bad to worse. This movie was supposed to be a simple bang and flash type. His role was to get in the car, drive through the burning warehouse, and come out of the opposite wall like the hero of the film was supposed to do. However, Ryan thought that was a little boring, so he got creative in the form of taking the car through the doors of the warehouse then decided to hit the brakes at just the right spot for the car to come careening out of the large windows. The warehouse was set ablaze because the scene called for the hero to drive into the burning warehouse and through the wall. It was all a lead up for the hero to rescue the girl who was being held hostage on the docks by the villain of the film. What he hadn’t planned on at the time was for the 67' Olds mobile not to fit through the window which made the car turn at an odd angle on its side leaving him stuck inside. ~ ~ ~ Ryan was never one to really listen to other people, so when he realized he wasn’t going to make it through the window with the car he immediately tensed his body. He knew it was a mistake, so he relaxed as best he could given the situation. Time has a way of slowing itself down when horrible things like this happen. Ryan couldn’t help, but watch as his certain death came rushing at him in matrix slow speed. He noted that the crunch of steel on concrete had a sound much like that of a brown paper bag when crushed to be thrown into the trash, only ten times louder. The flames of the warehouse seemed hungry for the car he was in, tendrils of flame skittered across the hood of the car as it smashed into the concrete wall sending the glass of the window down onto the car itself. “Oh....shhhh,” Ryan had begun to say, but found the sound of the crunching metal drowned his voice out completely. The floor of the car thrust inwardly toward him, he instantly pulled his feet up away from the pedals, and as the car came to a jolting stop then twisted then turned on its side. He tried to keep his wits about him. The door of the car had been welded shut, but he could still use the window. It reminded him greatly of Dukes of Hazard, but decided that it wasn’t time for a nostalgic memory of his childhood. Adrenaline poured through his veins like a valve of a water hydrant. He fell hard on the bare ground of the warehouse. The flames were doing their best to eat every inch of the place. Another thing he didn’t realize was the fact that the warehouse was suppose to explode once he was through the wall. They were going to try to get it all done in one take, so they could go home early. Flames raced up the sides of the warehouse covering any and everything that it could. Ryan stood enticed by the hungry flames, but failed to notice the warehouse falling apart. As he stood watching the flames a piece of the ceiling hit him over the head. He was dazed for awhile and stumbled toward the flame engulfed door of the warehouse. He could hear sirens pulling up outside as darkness took him. |
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