Just for the record. dear old Dad is on cloud 9 too!
Its strange, we don't even have to heve him in our face to feel better. When he's gone we feel his loneliness for us. Just knowing that he is at easy ahd happy is enough to make us happy.
Looks like I'll be preparing a ham and a turkey today. Per the boy's request I might add.
Dinner is at 4:00 if anyone is in the neighborhood. Admission is a hug.
Thunder Rider
JoinedPosts by Thunder Rider
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31
Thanksgiving Miracle
by SheilaM inmy thanksgiving miracle got off the plane today at 1:51 my marine son pfc anthony.
god it was sooooo goood to see him.
he picked me up and swung me lol the look on his face when he saw his girlfriend and me was priceless.
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14
Damned Closet Space!
by Thunder Rider inall your stuff stayed in your home, but out of sight, out of the way, out of this world.
delia was delighted, and moved to enter the room, she had a stabilization tag in her hand.
" neil took the tag from delia.
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Thunder Rider
Any opinions yet?
I was thinking of submitting the entire piece to Playboy for publication and would appreciate some feedback.
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28
What book(s) are you reading?
by gaiagirl ini just finished a 'historical novel' titled "confessions of a pagan nun", by kate horsley.
this is a story about a woman who grew up in ireland during the late 5th and early 6th century, at the time when christianity was beginning to displace the older pagan customs.
the story tells how gwynneve is raised according to the beliefs of her ancestors, and the conflicts she experiences as she gradually comes into contact with those claiming to represent the christian faith.
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Thunder Rider
Jo,
Paradise Lost huh?
I'll check it out.
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28
What book(s) are you reading?
by gaiagirl ini just finished a 'historical novel' titled "confessions of a pagan nun", by kate horsley.
this is a story about a woman who grew up in ireland during the late 5th and early 6th century, at the time when christianity was beginning to displace the older pagan customs.
the story tells how gwynneve is raised according to the beliefs of her ancestors, and the conflicts she experiences as she gradually comes into contact with those claiming to represent the christian faith.
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I'm 2/3 through The Divine Comedy. Defenitely not what one might consider lite reading, but enjoyable.
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38
butter or mayo?
by SpiceItUp inok matty and i are having a disagreement (we'll tell you who likes what later after we get some input)... .
when you eat a standard sandwich (made with flat white/wheat square bread with lunchmeat) which is a given: .
1. that butter would be spread on the bread unlesss otherwise requested.
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Thunder Rider
I'm thinking it depends on the bread. Breads of substance defenitely get butteres. Softer breads tear to easily would thus be better off mayoed.
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14
Damned Closet Space!
by Thunder Rider inall your stuff stayed in your home, but out of sight, out of the way, out of this world.
delia was delighted, and moved to enter the room, she had a stabilization tag in her hand.
" neil took the tag from delia.
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Thunder Rider
I recently finished a short story for my writers workshop. I thought I might share it with my friends here on the board. This is only the first part of the story, there is more. Depending on your responses I will or will not post the rest, so let me know what you think.
For your enjoyment.
Damned Closet Space
Its ironic when you think about it, the human animal's need for junk, accompanied by the need for a place to store, said junk, nearly lead to our doom. I mean how many "George Foreman Grilles", food processors, pairs of shoes, sweaters, tennis rackets, golf clubs, boxes of magazines, does one need? It's a common complaint, all over the world. There never seems to be enough closet space. Our homes are cluttered with things we never use, but are unwilling to get rid of, be it because of the sentimental value of the item or the obsessive-compulsive personality of the owner. We pile and stack, box and bag. We maneuver through our basements and spare bedrooms, along paths, winding through mazes of worthless collectibles, boxes of old newspapers, old mail and things we couldn't live without, but never see.
They came in the summer of 2011, men in dark glasses, wearing one piece jump suits that were made to look like double breasted business suits, and black canvas Keds. They drove into town in salmon pink mini vans, with tinted windows, their back windows bearing the ghost images of lettering advertising some cosmetic company. In letters a foot tall, on both sides of the vans, in teal blue, was written, Instant Closet Space! 999-7734. For $39.95 you could have all the closet space you needed, without changing a thing in your house. All your stuff stayed in your home, but out of sight, out of the way, out of this world.
I don't pretend to know the how's what's or where for's, used to make it possible. Something about altering the subatomic resonance frequency of the things in a space and shifting their mass to a place between the now and the then. Yeah, hocus pocus, mumbo jumbo, space-time continuum, and Star Trek kind of stuff. Never mind trying to understand how they got here, they got here and they began to feed.
For some reason they began their invasion in the blue-collar neighborhoods. Maybe because blue collar workers, could afford the stuff, but not always the space to store it.
Dean and Delia Kenner were the first to buy into the "Instant Closet Space". On June the 3rd, the salmon pink mini van parked in the Kenner drive and Neil and Bob, installed the "DCS generator". The "DCS generators" are the devices used to adjust the harmonic resonance frequencies and shift the stuff to a space just beyond our reality. The device consisted of a ring shaped transmitter and a cone shaped receiver. The components were installed on opposite walls of a room. When the transmitter was plugged into a wall outlet, whatever was stored in the room, disappeared. The room could be packed wall-to-wall, floor to ceiling, it mattered not. Once the "DCS generator" was powered up, the room was once again empty. I know what you're thinking. What the hell good is an empty room? That was one of the selling features; items you wanted to "shift" had to be tagged with a frequency stabilizer tag. Furniture, and fixtures, stayed in place.
After the "DCS generator" had been installed, Delia had Dean gather his golf clubs, "Hot Wheels" collection, "Playboys" and college crap, and stack it all in the spare bedroom. Dean did so reluctantly, not sure, he would ever see his things again. Neil hurried everyone out of the room and Bob demonstrated the miracle of the "DCS generator". After placing the stabilization tags in their container, Bob plugged in the device. A shimmer enveloped the room accompanied by a low frequency hum. Dean's things disappeared. Delia was delighted, and moved to enter the room, she had a stabilization tag in her hand.
"Whoa, there little filly." Neil said grabbing Delia by the arm. "Can't be going in there with a tag in your hand, else you be "shifted" to." Neil took the tag from Delia. "Be sure not to grab one of the tags afore you go in the room. Might wanna make a habit of keeping the tags in their container. When you wants to get to yer stuff, just turn off the DCS generator."
Bob turned off the DCS generator and all of Dean's stuff once again appeared. Dean was more than a little relieved; after all, he'd been collecting his "Playboys" since high school. Before he could move to check them though, Delia moved past Bob and turned the DCS generator back on. She turned to Dean and smiled. "Write him a check.," she said.
Dean did as he was told and Neil and Bob left. That evening the Kenner's had their neighbors over to see the miracle of the DCS generator and the Instant Closet Space. Dean and Delia took turns demonstrating. Now you see it, now you don't. Word got around and in no time, Neil and Bob had been in every house in the neighborhood. I had my DCS generator installed in September. It allowed me to keep my Harley in the living room. Sales and installations were brisk and for 6 months, all was well in our world.
Jane Higgins was the first to go missing. Her husband Todd told the police that he had seen her on the morning of March 6th. She had been rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher as he left for work. When he arrived home for lunch, everything was as it should've been, except that Jane was nowhere to be found. The water at the sink was running and a coffee cup lay on its side on the counter. Cops did everything but hold a séance in the house, looking for clues as to Jane's disappearance. Her desiccated, organ-less body was found a few days later, in a seldom-used park by the river. A week later two more people went missing, then another three days after that. After the missing persons list reached 43, and the body count had hit 27, the police were thinking serial killer, but the victims were too varied and diverse in circumstance, location and background to convince me. The only thing they had in common was the condition of the bodies as they turned up. The corpses were all found near the river, all were missing their internal organs and all were desiccated of their natural bodily fluids. Coroners found no incisions, punctures or wounds that could account for the conditions of the bodies. Talk of aliens from outer space was whispered around water coolers and in break rooms all over town.
I stumbled on the real reason for the disappearances by accident. Chasey had gone to bed early that night. I stayed up watching "Its a Wonderful Life" for the umpteenth time. Truth be known, I had stopped at Starbucks on the way home and though I had ordered a de-cafe Venti; the bitch hit me with leaded. I was wired. I had opened a bottle of wine and was drinking heavily in an effort to counter the effects of the 90-octane coffee, and was sportin a pretty good buzz, as Clarence finally got his wings. When the movie ended, I shut off the DVD player and sat in the dark.
They came for Chasey that night. I sat in the family room, in the dark, looking into the living room, where the DCS generator hummed softly, my bike and a shit load of other stuff, shifted out of our reality and yet close at hand. A faint orange light began to show in the center of the DCS transmitter. A gnarled, taloned claw appeared from inside the ring of the transmitter and the Soul Eater entered my world. I thought to myself as the demon set its birdlike feet onto the floor and curled it's spiky tail over its reptilian head and draconian face. "Damn boy, you are totally shitfaced." Its eyes glowed red in the faint light of the aquarium, on the bookcase, by the sofa. I clenched my eyes closed and shook my head. When I opened my eyes, again the thing was gone. I passed out.
I woke moments later to the muffled screams of my wife. I jumped off the couch and made for the bedroom. My intoxication level however made that a difficult chore. I was not able to keep my balance and ended up bouncing off the walls and falling down twice before I reached the end of the hall and the bedroom door. I opened the bedroom door and was greeted by an unholy sight. The Soul Eater stood atop our bed, Chasey was in the clutches of the creature. Her body hung arched from its clawed hands. The sides of her nightshirt were torn by the creature's claws.
Her legs kicked and flailed at her captor. The creature's head scraped the ceiling, though it stood somewhat hunched. Its gray-green leathery hide was mottled and knotted with lumps and spiny protrusions. Chasey's face was twisted in a mask of pain. A silvery light bled from her eyes as she writhed in agony and tried to escape the creature's grasp. The Soul Eater inhaled the silvery light as it left Chasey's body. She turned to see me in the doorway and her eyes beckoned me to help. Her face was changing with each passing second. The skin became thin and taught. Her eyes seemed to be sinking into their sockets. Chasey's legs were withering before my eyes. The love of my life was being murdered. I lurched in the direction of the bed. The Soul Eater swung its tail in my direction; it impacted me in the chest and sent me sprawling across the room. I woke the next morning to the sight of Chasey's desiccated, lifeless body. There was no other sign of the creatures visit, no evidence at all. I called the police, within minutes the house was crawling with uniformed, and plain-clothes policemen and women. I was subjected to several interrogations and interviews. The investigation went on for three days before it was added to the "serial murderer" case that was plaguing the city. I didn't mention the Soul Eater. I didn't want to end up in the nut house. I was sure of what I had seen, and even more sure that it was going to be up to me to put an end to the killings.
Detective Russ Frantangelo poured over the case files in the "Mummy murders". That was what the guys in homicide were calling them. Twenty-eight bodies at last count, fifty-four people missing, leads were thin and the only witness was purported to be insane. The guy had found his wife in bed, her body in the same condition as all the others found by the river. Why the killer had chosen to change his disposal site was yet unknown. Perhaps he had been interrupted by the deceased woman's husband. According to him, he was passed out on the couch when she had been killed. His DNA hadn't turned up on any of the other bodies, so he was not considered a suspect. Still he was the only one witness they had.
Russ keyed his comm. link.
My comm. link chirped and I keyed the answer button. "Hello."
"Mr. Cain, this is detective Frantangelo down at the precinct. I was wondering if I could stop by and go over a few things."
"Why detective, have there been any new leads? Did you find something?" I replied.
"Things are pretty much at a dead end here. I thought we might go over the things that happened the night your wife died. Maybe we could jog your memory a bit." Russ said.
"Detective, I really think your efforts would be better spent elsewhere, besides, I have plans this evening." I said.
"I understand, but if you think of anything, please call me, OK." Frantangelo said.
"Sure detective, I will. Goodbye." I hung up the comm. I sat there at the kitchen table looking into the living room. I wiped an oil soaked rag down the length of my sword. Yes, I said sword. Oh, don't worry, I have a gun too, a 40 caliber Smith, but I felt that somehow sharpened steel might be more effective in confronting my hellish foes. I packed the bowl of my pipe with cherry vanilla tobacco, the kind Chasey liked, pulled my lighter from my shirt pocket and lit up. I puffed away enjoying the aromatic smell of the burning pipe, and blowing smoke rings. My life since Chasey's death had become reclusive. I slept most of the day and surfed the web all night. I researched anything and everything I could about my foes. I searched the libraries for references to similar occurrences in history and descriptions of monsters like the one I had seen.
I found a picture in a book of folklore, referring to a string of murders and mutilations in eastern Pennsylvania back in the early 1800's. The picture was a charcoal drawing of a demon, much like the one I had seen, perched atop a pile of bodies. A clergyman stood opposite the demon with a long pike, tipped with a silver crucifix, a drummer boy at his side. The beast seemed to be recoiling. The article related Quaker folklore about a soul-eating demon that nearly wiped out an entire Quaker community. It was that picture that convinced me to have the blade of my sword plated in silver. I had the job done at a local custom bike shop. Normally they only do chrome, but Ted is a friend and I had spent a shit load of dough there over the years making my Harley look good, that he made the changes to his electroplating equipment for me. I nearly fainted when he handed me the bill, $630.00. He really stuck it in and broke it off. I said he was a friend, I didn't say a great friend. Any way, as I polished my sword, I ate cold pizza and planned my evening. I had intended to enter the damned closet space place and look at their records. I wanted to confirm my suspicions. I was sure that all the missing, or at least all the bodies, had been clients of Neil and Bob.
I donned my jeans, boots and leather vest. I strapped my sword to the saddlebag brackets. I stuck the 40 into my waistband, mounted my Harley and rode to DCS headquarters. Their building was in an industrial district of town that was now basically a ghost town. In fact, several of the large brick structures currently housed seasonal haunted houses, their frontage decorated with murals of demons, ghouls and goblins. I parked a block away from the DCS building and waited for the employees to leave. It was 8:45 when the last light went out and the last van pulled away. I waited a few minutes and motored over closer the building. I parked behind some dumpsters, shut her down, toed down the kickstand and grabbed my sword. The few streetlights that there were in the immediate vicinity, cast just enough light for me to navigate the alley besides the building and find a side door. A set of metal stairs and railing lead up to the steel door, marked in white letters it said, DCS deliveries. In white paint written below the DCS in a descending fashion were other letters. They spelled out,
D C S
A L P
M O A
N S C
E E E
D T !
Some one else knew! Perhaps I had an ally in my newly declared war. I kicked in the door and peeked inside. The door opened into a huge warehouse room with tables and shelves lining the far wall. In the middle of the space stood a freezer room. It was 20 feet square and 12 feet tall. Wires and hoses hung from the ceiling, three huge condenser units hummed in their efforts to keep cool whatever the freezer housed. Huge sodium vapor lights hung from the ceiling, their domed housings covered in years of accumulated dust. Stacked here and there were crates of DCS generators and stabilization tags. A workbench skirted the back wall and a door off to my left marked the way to the offices. I walked over to the freezer and peered through the round portal window on the door. The accumulation of frost on the inner glass made viewing the contents of the freezer near impossible. I heard a voice from the other room. I scrambled over to the compressor units and climbed atop the freezer. I laid flat on my stomach and waited.
"I'm telling you I heard something Bob." Neil said. He and Bob entered the warehouse. "Look, see, the back door is open. Check behind the crates, while I check the freezer." Bob huffed as he went off to follow my directions. His commitment to our endeavor was waning, in my opinion. Our deal had been struck and I dared not think what might take place should we fail to deliver.
Neil is always bossing me around. It's OK though. After this gig, I'll be set for life. I walked the perimeter of the warehouse, checking under the benches and behind the crates. "Neil, nothing over here. Probably those damn sterno bums again." I walked over to the open door. I thought to myself, $30.000 an organ, average of four usable organs per donor, 57 donors thus far, that's gotta be a shit load of money! Who would have thought making a deal with the devil would be so lucrative? Upon reaching the open back door, I looked outside. The light cast by the street lamps was less than great, but adequate enough to see that there was no one in the alley. "I'll bet those assholes forgot to shut it tight before they left. That's what we get for hiring a bunch of wet-backs." I pulled the door shut and locked it. It wouldn't latch. The strike plate was bent. "Neil, the damn thing won't stay shut."
"Put a crate in front of it and lets get the hell out of here!" Neil responded.
I dragged a crate of transmitters over to the door and blocked it shut. Not like we had to worry about replacing stolen equipment, sling a little mojo, burn a few candles, kill a goat, and color the inventory replenished. "Sam's Club", got nothing on the Devil's Depot! Neil and I locked up and split. "Hooters here we come!"
I watched as Neil and Bob left the warehouse, from my place of hiding on top of the freezer. When I heard the door close and lock, I stood up. The faint glow from the exit lighting was enough to illuminate the floor beneath me. I was able to make out a giant pentagram painted on the floor in a streaky red paint. At least I hoped it was paint. I dropped off the side of the freezer and to the floor. My footsteps echoed in the room as I made my way to the front of the freezer. The door to the freezer had a cable lock strung through the latch hasp. Nothing I had with me was going to cut through the cable, so I opted to pop the glass out the portal window and get a glimpse of the contents, an option I would come to regret.
Hanging from hooks down the center of the freezer were lungs. Some were pairs, and others singles. On the side and back walls, were shelves. On those shelves, were hearts, livers, kidneys, and things I could not identify. "That answers the mystery of where the organs went." I said under my breath. I reinstalled the portal window and walked to the office door. I heard a timer click and then a faint hum. I turned around to see that the freezer and its contents had disappeared along with everything else in the warehouse. No evidence to be seen in case of a break in. I returned my attention to the office door. Getting past, that was no problem. I merely drew my sword. Sounds pretty cool, huh? Any way, I wedged the point of the blade between the latch striker and the door. I pried the door slab to the left and the door swung inward. A short corridor led to the offices and the reception area. The mirror image of the DCS logo and number presented on the window glass of the front entry door. The flooring was a highly polished black tile that reflected the upside down mirror image of the doors logo. My heart skipped a beat, for the mirror image of the upside down comm. number was visible as, hELL-666. My fears were now confirmed and my foe identified
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16
The Segmentation Fault of the Soul
by SYN inthe segmentation fault of the soul
christine looked at me, then down again at matty.
?i just don?t know, matty.
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Excelent work.
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50
Michael Jackson in the news again.....
by DebraDoll inso sad..........arrest warrants were just executed against him for multiple counts of child molestation.
as a mom i am deeply appalled, as an ex witness i am saddened at his lack of power over his own life and ability to move forward, beyond the scarring of an abusive upbringing.
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Simon said,
He should be put in prison where he can be 'befriended' by a 400lb guy called bubba.
I couldn't agree more! I mean he could already pass for Diana Ross on drugs.
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What's your Phobia?
by ApagaLaLuz ini tend to be a pretty wild soul.
i have eaten the grossest foods.
i don?t get sea sick.
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Clowns!
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Should Sexual Offenders Be Detained Even After They've Done Their Time?
by Country Girl inquestions rise over imprisoning sex offenders past their terms
1 hour, 36 minutes ago
add top stories - the new york times to my yahoo!
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Thunder Rider
If the threat of loss of all assets looms over the sexual predator, they may think twice before committing an offense.
I have often thought that when one is incarserated for such despicable crimes as murder and child abuse, that their assets be liquidated to pay for their incarseration.
I understand the potential hardship this might pose on the family of the convict, but such is life.In those cases where the spouse is innocent, perhaps only half the assets be liquidated. As a society we are being held hostage by the prevailing attitude of tolerance no matter what the situation.
Time to turn the table and make the punishment for the crimes so intolerable, that those that may not be considered sociopaths, yet still behave in a manner consistent with certified sexual predators, might fear those punishments enough to refrain from indulging their animalistic impulses.
I tend to lean toward the high velocity low dosage lead poisoning treatment for these men myself!
Thunder