Writer’s Block

My creative mind is volcanic;
Spitting out molten words that form
An inferno of phrases which sear
My pitifully untrained hands.

Though burning I keep fighting
To slow the eruption and
To capture and solidify the
Sharp consonants and aesthetic vowels.

The eruption, however, always cools
Into a sea of black stone and I am
Left with a few rare glass gems but
No memory of what they mean or how to use them.

I continue to write only because I believe
That somewhere beneath the dark, glossy surface lies
A manifestation of my genius:
A gem, perfectly created.

Heretic Anguish – Part 1 Heroes – Chapter 3 The Traces of a Conspiracy

6:00 a.m. Sun. 9/30/20?? – 10:23 a.m. Sun. 9/30/20??

Three days later, Paul was patrolling the city with Madcow. Erie was a modest city nestled along the shore of Lake Erie. The downtown streets and squares were lined with historical markers that few cared about. There were bad parts of town, as there always is, but Erie was far too small to have anything like the crime rate of, say, New York, Chicago, or even Pittsburgh. In the hills beyond the city, suburban housing prospered. The climate was in the temperate zone, but lake effect snow regularly made citizens question this fact. (The weather was fair today.) In short, Erie was the typical American city, only smaller.

Paul’s situation wasn’t looking too good. Ever since the incident with the nerd, many of Paul’s fellow agents were at odds with him. In fact, Jellydoughnut and Cheese practically begged to have him removed. Fortunately, Cheifton required proof before action. Most HERO members were suspicious on a lesser scale. Paul wasn’t without support though: Elvis, Machodude, and Madcow questioning the man’s sudden disappearance. Having someone who’d heard about it secondhand—Madcow—believe him was a great boost to Paul’s confidence. He might have left without it.

Paul was reading some graffiti a few blocks away from where Madcow stood like a statue. Painfully boring hours had passed since they started their patrol. They had left the base at nine that morning through another entrance—the only other entrance—to the base. It lay deep beneath Lake Erie; to reach the surface, Paul and Madcow had to use a mini-sub which they docked, at a harbor in an undeveloped area of the lake shore. From there, they used a type of hover platform to reach Erie. They were single man crafts that moved at about sixty miles per hour at top speed. They ate breakfast at McDonald’s, and were now in their last hour of the morning patrol.

Paul had been having the dream every night now, and it was really starting to cut into his sleep schedule. He was barely even able to wake up that morning, and Madcow had looked at him funny when he drank three large orange pops at breakfast. Paul felt like a live wire, but still ready to pass out at the sight of a bed. Finishing the graffiti, Paul decided to go back to where Madcow was and tell him that there was nothing suspicious.

As Paul turned the corner, he saw that a little six-year-old blond girl had pulled a pistol and aimed at Madcow. He didn’t see any other pedestrians nearby. There were plenty of cars going by, but were witnesses any good? Tell the police that a little girl on a bike was holding a trained government agent hostage? Even though President Kinnear had told the public that Aspiradora was recruiting little kids, Paul doubted anyone had really believed it. Paul had just begun to believe it himself.

Paul quickly ducked back behind the corner and adjusted his headset so he could hear what was going on. Peering back around the corner, Paul saw that the girl had the gun aimed at Madcow’s jugular, a place on the body unprotected by the HERO uniform. (The neck was covered by a thin layer of rubber to give the illusion that it was protected.) How would she know that?! Paul wondered. “… now give me your laser pistol and get in the basket,” Paul heard the girl saying. She fiddled with the laser pistol a little while Madcow got in an oversized bicycle basket. She tied him up. “If anyone asks any questions say you’re playing a game with me, or you’ll have nice little holes in your forehead,” she said, getting on the bike.

Paul turned on his laser pistol and set it for stun so that he wouldn’t fry Madcow. As the bike started moving, Paul ran out of the alley, aimed for the back tire, and fired repeatedly. The first few shots missed, but it wasn’t long before Paul shot out the tire. (Well, technically it melted, losing all pressure and traction instantaneously.) The bike crashed, the girl saw Paul, and she ran yelling, “Mommy!” Paul tried to pursue, but after they turned a corner she started shooting at him. He jumped back behind the corner, worried that she’d neck-shoot him. When he peeped his head around the corner though, she was gone. Puzzled, he went to untie Madcow.

Madcow agreed to return to base with Paul immediately, saying he’d heard a HERO’s voice on the girl’s radio.

“Whose?” Paul asked.

“Couldn’t tell,” Madcow replied. “Someone I haven’t talked to much, not that it matters with the voice scrambling…”

Paul began to lead the way back, disappointed.

“Oh, yeah!” Madcow blurted out, “Before I forget, I owe you five dollars Paul.”

“What?!” Paul started.

“You lent it to me so I could buy a CD, remember?” Madcow said.

“Not that! How do you know my name?” Paul asked. Then, he thought he knew,

“Adam, is that you?” He had lent the same amount to Adam a few days earlier for the same reason.

“Yup,” Adam said. “C’mon, we better go back to the base and tell Cheifton. Maybe this’ll help improve your reputation.”

“Fat chance,” Paul said. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess,” Adam said doubtfully. “Actually I don’t know how I knew.”

“Say what?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know,” Adam repeated. “It was like someone was whispering in my head.”

“You’re hearing voices? Figures,” Paul said, grinning bitterly.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Adam said. “… Let’s just go…”

Heretic Anguish – Part 1 Heroes – Chapter 2 Day One

1:00 p.m. Wed. 9/26/20?? – 2:45 p.m. Thu. 9/27/20??

There was a steel door at the end of the passage. Dr. Gangreene opened it. “Fayhan, here are your fellow agents.” The room was full of people in similar outfits with different colors lounging about. “These are Madcow, Cheifton, Spider, Fly, Frogman, Cheese, Jellydoughnut, Thunderbutt, Goldeneagle, Elvis, and Machodude.” The rainbow of HERO’s looked up disinterestedly. They looked like a group of rejects from Superman, but Paul knew that he didn’t look any better.

There was something familiar about them. “Uh, hi,” Paul said awkwardly. None of them responded and went back to what they were doing a few seconds later. Paul turned to Dr. Gangreene and asked, “What is with those names?”

“They thought that this whole thing was a joke because of the unusual costumes and ‘requested’ to have their names changed accordingly. They didn’t think I’d take them seriously,” Dr. Gangreene said. “All except for you and Goldeneagle anyway.”

“Oh,” Paul said, trying not to laugh at the dead serious expression on Dr. Gangreene’s face. “Are we the only ones down here?”

“There will also be some normal government agents on this base in order to help maintain it,” Dr. Gangreene said. “And that reminds me, there are some other things you need to know.”

“Like what?” Paul asked.

“To help you find your way around this base, we’ve color coded the corridors. The main entranceway is silver, your barracks are in the green area, the armory is in the red, intelligence operations are in the blue, the cafeteria in yellow, simulations and training in orange, and emergency supplies in black. You have barrack number five. Each individual’s barrack is more like an apartment than a barrack. You have your own bed, a private bathroom, a television set, a lockable door, some furniture, and a radio/alarm clock. You’ll find your room key on your belt. For the first few weeks you won’t have any particular job since we will be switching you around often to find out what you’re best at. If you happen to be patrolling the city around lunch time, you can just buy your lunch; your room key will also act as a debit card. Did you understand all of that?”

Paul nodded. “So, when do we start?” He was still kind of anxious about the whole thing.

“As soon as President Kinnear informs the public tonight,” Dr. Gangrene said.

* * *

The speech was that night at seven. The HERO members gathered in the lounge to listen to it on TV. “My fellow Americans,” the President began from the White House, “it has come to the attention of your government that a malicious terrorist group organization calling itself Aspiradora, has the means and the technological power to declare open war on the United States of America. We have discovered that their leader, Ted Lawrence, is mentally unstable and in command of a large number of weapons of mass destruction. He could strike anywhere, at any time. Furthermore, and perhaps the most disturbing of all, he seems to be recruiting young children, rather than having grown men and women fight. In order to combat this threat we have formed the HERO organization. Since the members of HERO remain unknown, although they are few, will be the most effective countermeasure against such a threat. They will be using the most advanced technology currently available to combat Aspiradora, and will have the best agents of the CIA at the tips of their fingers. A small squadron will be placed in every major city in this country, effectively distributing them across the nation.” The speech went on for another half hour—essentially more of the same with a garnish of statistics.

After the speech was over, everyone had a late dinner and went back to their rooms. Paul watched television for an hour, then went to bed. He did not sleep well that night, awakening in a layer of cold sweat from the same dream he had the night before the tests began. Getting up to get himself a glass of water, Paul began to wonder if it meant anything. This time around, he could remember it more clearly. A genetic experiment gone wrong, a three-year-old professional assassin, the group he was currently in, an evil that no one even thought existed, a rebellion against an evil government, long forgotten technology revived, an alien invasion, spirits mingling with the living, an orbiting sanctuary for evil, a threat to all life everywhere, a sacred sword revived, and… and… Paul couldn’t remember anything past that. Sighing, he went back to bed

* *

HERO started working the next day. Paul was put on security patrol duty for the entire base, which ran under most of the city. For the first few hours, nothing happened. However, when he entered one of the communications rooms to make sure that all was in order, he saw a man in a suit and shades with several computer disks in his hand. He had a gun and no form of identification in plain view like the service workers wore. On top of that, he was glancing around nervously and sweating profusely. He looked like Dilbert, only nerdier.

Paul ducked back into the corridor, half panicked. When he’d calmed down a little, he risked another look. That was when he was seen by the man. “Going somewhere?” Paul asked.

“Hands in the air,” the man ordered glancing around wildly, gun aimed at Paul. He moved toward the door. The man looked like he was scared of the very air. If he was trying to hide it he wasn’t doing a good job.

What the heck am I afraid of? Paul wondered, remembering that his uniform contained some heavy body armor. He took a chance and decided to fight. Paul tripped the man as he walked by, trying to wrench the gun away from his hands. During the struggle, the man tried to shoot Paul but missed. After a few more seconds, Paul got the gun free.

“I heard some gunshots, so someone tell me what the hell is goin’ on before I melt both of you!” Elvis yelled standing in the door with her laser pistol trained on both of them. Goldeneagle was standing beside her.

That guy gives me the creeps Paul thought.

“I was removing some old data when this punk jumped me,” said the man pulling some form of I.D. from his coat pocket.

“I’m going to go get orders from Chiefton,” said Goldeneagle, leaving.

“Don’t you have better things to do than scare the maintenance?” asked Elvis.

“You believe this nerd?!” Paul said.

“Yes, now apologize to him and grow up,” said Elvis.

“You believe this nerd?!” Paul repeated.

“I’m not a nerd,” said the man.

“Shut up!” said Paul. “Well?” he asked, turning to Elvis.

“I believe him because he has a valid ID instead of a gun in his hand,” Elvis said.

Paul had almost forgotten that there was a gun in his hands. “Stop and think about this. I have a laser pistol. Why would I use a normal gun?”

“Maybe because you’re too stupid to know how to use one…,” Elvis muttered under her breath.

“I heard that! You just aim it and push the button.” Paul almost yelled. He was getting pretty pissed.

“Well I’m surprised you could figure it out,” Elvis sneered.

“Look, what’s your problem?!” Paul said. “He didn’t have any ID in plain view like he was supposed to and you’re only grilling me!” If Paul had been more experienced at arguing he might have realized that all he was doing now was whining.

“… Where’d he go?” Elvis asked, surprised. The nerdy man had vanished with the disks.

Goldeneagle returned as they were about to look for the man. “I’ve just received orders from our leader, Cheifton, to have Fayhan put in detainment for assaulting management and questioning authority,” he said. “If this continues, his position will be terminated.”

“Isn’t that a little premature?!” asked Elvis. “One of the persons involved has just disappeared you know!”

“Would you like to join him?” Goldeneagle retorted.

Turning his attention back to Paul again, Goldeneagle asked, “You can either come with me under free will or force. Which is it?” Paul chose the less painful option.

Knowledge

Across the lake, the Spring wind blows;
It whispers in my ear
The wind blows strong, but then it goes
and leaves the waters clear.

In my hands, I hold the past,
reminding me of you.
I hope these times shall ever last,
mixing the old with new.

Without you I would be not be here
doing what I love most.
Your help’s been always crystal clear
so who am I to boast?

Since all the things that I have done, now and forever on,
were done because of you. And even when these days are gone
to you I shall think back in my last hour
since knowledge, they say, she holds a power.
Knowledge, you’ve always been with me,
you’ve helped me learn and helped me see.

Heretic Anguish – Part 1 Heroes – Chapter 1 The Beginning

8:30 a.m. Mon. 9/10/20?? – 1:00 p.m. Wed. 9/26/20??

One morning, a few days after school started at Peach Creek High School in Erie, fifteen year old Paul Dev was called down to the office. He was tall, somewhat attractive with brown eyes and hair, and somewhere between buff and flabby. A slightly modest young man in street clothes: that was the typical Paul. He had been born deaf in his right ear, not that he ever really took notice of it.

Peach Creek was the typical public high school, a two story brick monument to the twin gods of education and idiocy. There were some computer labs, a wood shop, and a kitchen. It had Internet access, which was rarely used. The stairs weren’t placed in convenient locations, but rather toward the outside walls to allow easy escape in the event of a fire. (Of course, it didn’t help at all during fire drills since everyone got bottle-necked at the stairs.) Paul’s homeroom was on the second floor; the office was on the first. He had a short walk ahead of him.

On the way to the office from homeroom, he wondered about what anybody would in that situation—what he had done wrong. Although only a slightly above average student, he was not much of a rule breaker (the last time he’d gotten in trouble was more than three years ago). After a few minutes he worked out a theory though. There was currently a “no tolerance” policy on school violence with all the gusto of a nazi regime; you weren’t even allowed to overhear someone being violent. Paul figured it was probably related to the rumors of a fight that he’d heard.

Problem solved, he began trying to remember a weird dream he’d had the night before. He couldn’t remember much of it, but he could remember facing all kinds of supernatural dangers. In the end he came out alive, but it somehow didn’t feel worth it. Some people who seemed to be his friends had died in it, but the way it happened was all fuzzy. The one thing that he remembered most from the dream was a sacred sword or something like that. The rest of the dream was fuzzy, but that sword was crystal clear.

When Paul reached the office, he noticed he wasn’t the only person there. Several people of varying ages were seated in the oversized principal’s office; some of them didn’t even go to school! Some fifty chairs or so had been brought in to seat them all. He barely noticed his dad, Bob, and his younger sister, Maria, sitting in a corner before a group of boys clumped around him—his friends. “Hi guys,” Paul said. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what we were going to ask you,” Steve Toland said. He was the smart one in the group, a whole grade ahead of his class in fact. Steve was a short, chubby geek.

“I’m telling you, it’s going to be something stupid,” said Joe Braude. He was the athlete, a walking mass of rippling pectorals. And once a week he would trample those weaker than him in his quest to score points for the football team.

“You mean like starting an A.P. sex ed. class?” Adam McGraw asked. He was the smart-ass, mouth over mind. Adam was about the same height as Paul and on the flabby side.

“Probably more like having us sample a revolutionary type of blackboard,” Paul grinned.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adam said.

“Your girlfriend wanted to talk to you. She’s right over there,” said Dave May, indicating a girl who was sitting alone. He was the one who could drive. The heartthrob of the girls’ locker room, he was one of the most popular kids in school.

Paul nodded. “Okay, thanks.” He took the seat next to his sweetheart, Julie Britton. “Sup?”

“Did you find an earring somewhere?” she asked. “I think I lost one last night.” Paul and Julie looked like they type of couple you just want to take pictures of, the type that genuinely look happy to be together. She was involved in the student council and tutored others in her spare time.

“No, but I’ll look when I get home,” Paul replied. They had gone out last night, dinner, a movie, and some light making out. They’d been dating for about three weeks now and Paul thought that it would soon turn into a long term relationship.

“Thanks hun,” she said.

“It’s no big deal,” Paul said, embarrassed. He changed the subject. “Looks like he’s finally going to start talking.”

The man in the suit sitting at the principal’s desk stood up and began speaking. He was Dr. Gangreene, principal of the school and lord high prick when it came to the rules. When it came to anything else though, he was actually the coolest person in the building, if you could get past the similarity between his voice and Ben Stein’s. “May I have your attention? Thank you. I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here.”

“No shit,” Steve muttered.

“You have been chosen to help us finish standardizing some tests,” Dr. Gangreene explained. “The results will of course help to determine whether or not to standardize them. Now I’m sure you’re all going to love this, but these tests include the following areas: physical fitness, driving, swimming, general competency, creative thinking, physical and mental health, reading, writing, arithmetic, science, electronics, engineering, cooking, art, music, and a survey to help facilitate input from students.” A scientist would have observed that the number of groans was proportional to the number of items listed. “You may have noticed that there are some people who clearly do not belong here. That middle aged woman in the back there is a fine example. Their age groups are going to be used to help determine if the tests should be given to students your age. Testing will begin in fifteen minutes and continue throughout the next two weeks.”

“Gha!” Evan blinked.

“While you will not be required to complete any work or make up any tests during that time, you are still expected to know the material covered during your absence. You are dismissed. Please stop back at your lockers and get whatever you need for these tests. Once again, be back in fifteen minutes.” Dr. Gangreene sat down and the students got up.

“Well that’s just a LITTLE bit excessive,” Paul said.

“Yeah, this is going to be a long day,” Julie said.

“… Isn’t he supposed to mention that we don’t have to do this?” Paul asked, not that he had any intentions of not taking the tests. No homework for two weeks was very appealing.

“Hm?” Julie asked. “Oh, that garbage? You probably just didn’t hear him say it.”

The tests went by very, very slowly. When they were finally over for the day, the people being tested all got on a bus which dropped them off at their homes an hour after school was done. For the next week Paul and the others took the seemingly endless tests. By the time it was over, Paul wanted to scream.

* * *

After the tests were done, Paul and the others were called down to the office one at a time. Paul was called in on the second day, just after lunch. When he entered, Dr. Gangrene said, “Have a seat.” Paul did. They were in there alone. “Paul, what would you be willing to do for your country?” Dr. Gangreene asked.

“I-“ Paul began, stopping when Dr. Gangreene held up a hand. What am I so scared of? Have I heard this before?

“Suppose there was a group of terrorists,” Dr. Gangreene said. “Suppose that they’re powerful enough to pose a serious threat to our nation. Would you be willing to fight against them in order to defend your country?”

“I… I guess so…,” Evan said. Get a grip!

“That’s good,” Dr. Gangreene said. “Remember those tests you took? They were used to determine who would take place in a special government project for that very purpose.”

“What?!” Paul yelled.

“This group will be known as the High Efficiency Regional Officers, or simply HERO. They exist for the sole purpose of stopping these terrorists. Paul, would you lend us your help as codename Fayhan?” Dr. Gangreene asked.

“W-wait a minute!” Paul said. Is this a joke?!

Dr. Gangreene reached under his desk and pushed a button, then unlocked a large metal cabinet in the corner of the room. When he opened it, there was a stairway leading downward rather than the metal bottom that Paul expected. “Will you at least hear me out?” he said.

“What the heck?” Paul sighed, following Dr. Gangrene down the staircase. At the bottom, a silver metallic corridor stretched out before them with many doors and hallways branching of to the right and left. Dr. Gangrene led him to one of these doors and opened it. Inside was a small room with a rather odd arrangement of plastic, rubber, and spandex clothes and gear lying on the floor.

“Why don’t you try your uniform on Fayhan?” Dr. Gangrene suggested as he closed the door and waited outside. A few minutes later, Paul came back out into the corridor with the HERO uniform on. It was mostly black with a green cape and green face and boot lining. The mask was cut so that it went down over his nose, leaving holes for his nostrils and the lower part of his face and the eye holes had what looked like tinted plastic over them. It was hot and sweaty. “How’s it fit?”

“Perfect,” Paul said. Exact fit… how’d they know my sizes?

“Good,” Dr. Gangreene said. “Now then, I’m sure you have plenty of questions?”

“Why do I have to wear this stupid costume?” Paul asked. Being somewhat immature the immediate idiocy of the situation had taken precedence over they issue of why he had been chosen.

“In order to protect your loved ones from the terrorists. Also, some of your co-workers don’t get along. So as icing on the cake they don’t have any hostilities toward each other,” Dr. Gangrene said.

“Won’t our identities be a little obvious to the public?” Paul asked. “I mean c’mon, someone’s bound to figure out what those tests were.”

“Plausible denial has been constructed,” Dr. Gangreene said. “As such your identities are secure.”

“What does that mean?” Paul asked. Why’s he being so vague?

“It means that you won’t have to worry about the safety of your loved ones,” Dr. Gangreene said, a hint of impatience showing.

“Whatever. What’s this?” Paul asked while holding up a small, lightweight plastic object he found in his belt. The cool gear was now absorbing his attention.

“A laser pistol,” Dr. Gangrene said. “It has two settings; stun and kill. Stun simply fires lasers that cause minor burns or loss of consciousness. Kill on the other hand, is powerful enough to get you through that door in about a minute. You also have a laser sword on the other side of your belt. Have you ever seen ‘Star Wars?’”

Paul nodded.

“Just think of it as a light saber then,” Dr. Gangreene said.

“It’s kinda sweaty in here. Do you have anything that breathes?” Paul asked. It was his discomfort now.

“No, sorry,” Dr. Gangrene replied.

“What are these lights I’m seeing on the inside of the, uh, tinted eye-guard thingy?” Paul asked. Again, the cool gear.

“Where do I begin?” Dr. Gangreene asked. “First of all, that ‘thingy’ as you put it is made of bulletproof glass to protect your eyes and has been tinted to help hide your identity. As long as we’re on that subject, there is a headset built into your helmet that works as a radio so you can communicate over long distances. Also, the microphone will scramble your voice so that it sounds different when you talk. Back to the eye-piece, if you had any vision problems, they will also correct those, eliminating the need for glasses or contacts. Next, those lights are there to relay important mission information. For instance, if someone were around a corner waiting for you, you would see it in the form of a light. This is done by a constant infra red scanner, which has also been programmed to I.D. your friends. There are some controls for it on your wrist. Anything else?”

“Do I get paid?” Paul asked.

“Of course,” Dr. Gangreene said. “$50 an hour if I remember right. Wish I made that kind of money…”

“Holy crap!” Paul yelled. That’s like $400 a day! I’m gonna be rich! The paycheck revealed, Paul’s vague suspicions were completely forgotten. “I’m in! I’m definitely in!”

“Then, please follow me,” Dr. Gangreene said, leading him down a corridor.

Who can reach me?

Who can reach me where I’ve gone?
Far away from this astral plane.
The physical representation of me
Doesn’t appear to be in pain.

The pain has disappeared
It no longer resides near.
Instead my mind is traveling
Far, far away from here.

Who can reach me where I’ve gone?
Who would even want to try?

Trying would take its toll
It would prove too hard.
The obstacles to overcome
Would seem to guard.

They’d been put there by me
So that I wouldn’t be found.
Cause why would I leave
If I wanted to be bound?

Who can reach me where I’ve gone?
Who would even want to try?

Yes…who would even want to try?

Friends in Space

This was something I did to try and work on lighting. Practice makes perhaps after all, right? I think for future attempts, a softer edge would be more effective. Any other input would be great.

Deck of Cards

Deck of Cards

A thousand discarded memories
in the house of cards
the Ace of Spades
it all comes tumbling down

Souls endlessly seeking dark release
in the house of cards
neck deep in blood we wade
it all comes tumbling down

A thousand discarded memories
in the hall of mirrors
the Ace of Diamonds
the snake eats itself

For naught we seeketh to please
in the hall of mirrors
exercising the demons
the snake eats itself

A thousand discarded memories
in the peel of laughter
the Ace of Clubs
the jackass is smarter

No cure for the perpetual disease
in the peel of laughter
hyenas drowning in suds
the jackass is smarter

A thousand discarded memories
in the den of prostitutes
the Ace of Hearts
crying tears of blood

The phallus hangs like moldy cheese
in the den of prostitutes
lecherous old farts
crying tears of blood

A thousand and one discarded memories
in the holy temple
the Joker
smiling on the damned