Category Archives: Unfinished Work
Various stories and screenplays that aren’t finished yet.
He often thought If I could just figure out that one piece of the puzzle, then all of this could be chalked up to one, big nightmare. Instead, the visions never left, and they were even stronger than before.
How could John explain his feelings of impending doom, threatening to shred him of what little sanity he had left, without sounding like a complete nutcase?
He guessed it didn’t really matter, because if those visions haunting his dreams so frequently came true, most of mankind would be swept up in a cloud of dust anyway.
He had to figure this out, before it was too late. In order to do that you have to go back to the beginning a voice whispered, and somehow he knew, the only way he could go back was to die.
Great, he thought. This is going to hurt.
John saw the truck coming, and he knew he had to time it just right so the driver had absolutely no way of stopping once John stepped onto the highway.
“This better be worth it,” he muttered.
He walked out and turned to face his destruction, with arms wide open as if embracing his fate. The truck horn blasted, he closed his eyes and let himself drift away.
People who have died and come back claim to have seen a white light. They say there is an overwhelming peace surrounding you, and you no longer fear what’s beyond this life.
What a load of crap! John thought. Oh, he felt the excruciating pain of death, and there was no light, only an all consuming blackness. There was, however, a feeling of weightlessness, like floating beyond the earth’s atmosphere into the deep recesses of outer space.
Although it is short-lived, the trip back can be quite overwhelming, depending, of course, on the current life situation of the next body you inhabit. You just never know, and you can’t control it. If you could, it would be quite dangerous for the human race. That is why THEY wanted it that way.
“Who is THEY?” You might ask.
Let’s just say THEY are the whispers in your ear, the voices in your head and the prickles on your skin, sending chills up your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. THEY are the voice of reason, warning you against danger.
Most of you, of course, don’t adhere to these warnings. You just go about your merry way. But for US, “The Chosen”, ignoring THEM is not an option. Imagine those feelings multiplied ten-fold. It would be very difficult to ignore, would it not?
Now that we have that squared away, how can I explain my transition to you. I was John, a lawyer from San Francisco, before that I was a soldier in World War II, before that a king. Now I am nameless, as I continue to drift. Particles of energy swirling through the air, waiting to be breathed into my next charge.
I don’t see my surroundings, so I don’t know who it will be. The only thing on my mind, is finding “The One”, who is going to be responsible for the destruction of your world.
I don’t have a title for this yet, as it is in the beginning stages. I’m putting it in quotes because I still haven’t figured out how to format these damn WordPress posts.
It was the summer of 1972, the era of free love, sex, drugs and rock and roll. Somewhere in rural Georgia, where the moon was full and the stars were abundant, a ’57 Chevy was gently rocking to a romantic beat of forbidden love.
Billie Jo Jenkins, my momma’, had just turned 16 that summer. She declared her independence, much to the dismay of Grandma and Grandpa mind you, in an effort to break free from parental restraint. That was the night she chose to rid herself of what she often referred to as her virtue. The lucky recipient was Stevie Ray Reeves.
Stevie Ray was 19 but by no means a highly, educated man, and Momma’ knew he would never be considered an acceptable suitor. So, like all rebellious teenagers of past, present and future, she hid her romance.
What we, as the young generation, could never figure out is how our parents could come to know of such things. So, in a last ditch effort to regain authoritative control, my grandparents forbid Momma’ from ever seeing Stevie Ray again and, like all rebellious teenagers, she continued to do it anyway.
So, that night with her heels praising the Lord and the heavens above, she became a woman, and yup, you guessed it. That was the night, yours truly was conceived.
To say my grandparents were furious would be an understatement. To quote my momma’, “If you could combine a cherry, red apple and a steam engine, that’s what daddy looked like when he found out.”
Now, my grandparents were about to ship Momma’ off to a home for unwed mothers, but Stevie Ray would have none of it. He said to Grandpa that fateful night, “A man always takes care of his responsibilities and I would like to ask your permission for Billie Jo’s hand in marriage.”
If there is one thing you can do to gain Grandpa’s respect as a man is to act like one and own up to your responsibilities. That night, my grandpa saw Stevie Ray in a different light and gave his blessing,
When disasters like Hurricane Katrina, the earthqakes and tsunamis that devastated Haiti and Japan strike I often hear people say, “If God truly exists, how could He allow these things to happen?”
What I find interesting is that a nuclear weapon has the capability of destroying far more people in one shot than any natural disaster ever could, and that is man made, yet we hold this belief that mankind is the most intelligent species in the universe.
The ultimate fault of man is his relentless desire to boast of himself, which, in my opinion will be his downfall.
Vanity would make a man strive to create such a weapon because he knows he can, and he wants to prove it to everyone else, which further strengthens my belief that wisdom is far more valuable than intellgence.
One has absolutely nothing to do with the other, but if you put the two together, how much different do you think the world would be?
When I saw this video “Tara & Bella” on you tube it got me thinking.
To know and experience the pain of humiliation, the sadness of loss and the joy of revelation is catalyst to that which makes us human. What distinguishes man from animal.
I realized long ago that people are going to do whatever the hell they want to do regardless of consequences.
Instead of owning up to the truth, accepting responsibility for our actions, we take the easy way out by placing the blame on someone or something else.
I say, “Knock yourself out. Blame God, your parents, your environment, society, your dog, your cat…whatever.”
But…when bombs start dropping and we’re all dying from radiation poisoning, the last question I want to hear coming out of someone’s mouth is, “How could this happen?” Like it was a big, fucking surprise.
You know what the true definition of insanity is, not as it’s defined by the Oxford English Dictionary?
Repeating the same behaviors and expecting different results.
How, I ask, can we possibly hope to change the future if we keep making the same choices?
History has an uncanny way of repeating itself time and time again. We must face our past and learn from it if we have any hope of changing the future.
Change is difficult, I know, but based on what I see on the news, in newspapers and in my own backyard, how can I accept the world as it is today and be ecstatic about the future?
We’re suppose to be more intelligent than animals, the top of the food chain, but you know what I found?
Animals learn to adapt, they don’t kill just for the thrill of it, so who is the more intelligent species?
You ever get that feeling sometimes, that no matter what you do it’s never good enough.
I’ve been feeling that way almost my entire life. I know when I was younger it stemmed from my father’s attitude, but I can’t use that as an excuse now.
I just got back from shooting pool. I’ve been shooting pool since I was 11 years old. I shot my ass off tonight and I still couldn’t fucking win.
I know what they mean when they say, “I got burnt out” Because that sure as hell is how I’m feeling now.
It got me thinking about my life and the things that use to make me happy don’t make me happy anymore and I’m having a helluva’ time trying to figure out what does.
Right now, I’m feeling like a completely useless human being. Now, you can take that anyway you want, but that’s how I feel right now.
I don’t even know why I’m posting this shit anyway.
I need to feel useful again. If I”m going to survive in this God awful world. I need to feel useful again.
So, here I am, once again, cracked out on an extremely disturbing amount of caffeine and have absolutely no idea what to do next.
As a matter of fact, I feel like a captain on a ship with no crew aimlessly wondering the vast ocean of unrealized dreams.
Now, that sounds like an episode of the “Twilight Zone” as I read it back to myself in a voice eerily sounding like Rod Serling…strange…anyway…I realize writing takes a lot of discipline and hard work and anything that takes that much effort, as far as I’m concerned, is much easier if it is something you strongly desire to do.
I use to be involved in a network marketing business and one of the things they told us was, in order for us to succeed we needed what they called a primary motivating factor.
Now, they described this as having a desire for something so badly, you would do almost anything to get it. Kind of like boys going through puberty thinking of nothing but sex and how to get it. (Primary motivating factor.)
“So, what do I have to do to find out what my PMF is?”
I guess the first order of business would be to write down what goals I would like to achieve, short and long term.
Then, as the saying goes, “You must get off your fat bottom and get to work.”
With that being said, I think it’s time for me to get to work.
Through her haze Shelby stared at the blood stained sheets. She wanted to forget what happened, but the twinge between her legs was a painful reminder of how Michael had shred her maidenhead in an uncontrollable rage, calling her a tease for making him wait to take her to bed.
Shelby grew up in the Bible Belt, raised thinking a woman should remain virtuous until she married. Michael Sinclair was 22, handsome and charming. His daddy owned a string of posh hotels in Oklahoma City.
When they met at a charity event, she was mesmerized by him, his unrelenting compliments made her giggle like a schoolgirl. They danced and talked, completely ignoring everyone else around them.
Her parents, Griffin and Frances Dane, thought Michael was the perfect man for their 18 year old daughter to marry. So, when he asked Shelby’s father for her hand in marriage Griffin gave his blessing.
The wedding was a predominate display of southern elegance and prosperity. Although they were now husband and wife, Michael’s parents did not show an ounce of warmth towards their son’s young bride. They thought her a trollup for sinking her claws into him and manipulating him into marriage.
Now, here she was, scared and lonely. Far away from the only home she knew. When Michael had finished with her she curled up into a fetal position. weeping. After he donned his crumpled tuxedo he regarded her with obvious disdain.
“The first time is always painful.” He said without a hint of sympathy. “You’re my wife now and you will learn to accept it as part of your duty.”
Shelby changed the sheets, took a shower and crawled into bed, her consciousness giving way to tortured dreams. Michael came back late in the night and possessively wrapped her in his arms. The strong, smell of liquor almost made her gag. After an hour, she finally managed to fall asleep.
Her eyes were that of ocean blue with specs of winter frost.
Her ringlet hair the color of honey with hues of burning amber.
She whispered, her voice like satin, coaxing me to surrender,
Into her warm, protective embrace, to shield me from my loss.
“Do not weep for them, my child.” she said.
‘For there is no reason to consume your heart with sorrow.
They will always be with you, memories burned to mind and soul.
I offer a gift that cannot be bought for any amount of gold.
It is a chance, an offer given to few, to change tomorrow.”
Those mesmerizing eyes bore into mine and I could not look away.
Her smile glowed and cast its glory upon my face.
“You must go back.” she said. “For where I’m going you cannot follow, but do not fear, for I shall be with you always.”
A soft mist grew into billowy clouds, which carried her above,
Until I could no longer see her, but still I felt her touch,
As I was whisked away, into the night, like particles of dust,
Admiring the starry sky, my being filled with joy and love.
“But why?” I asked. “Why was I the one chosen? Surely, there must be someone else who deserves this chance more than I.”
“You do not wish to receive this gift?” She whispered.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer you are giving me, but Michael has a mother who’s sick and he’s been taking care of her. Shelby is a devoted wife and a wonderful mother. I have no one depending on me.”
“There is another way.” She said. “Do you offer yourself as a sacrifice so your friends shall live?”
“It is the only decision to make.” He replied.
“Very well.” She said.
He was surrounded by a light as bright as the early morning sun.
Through a smoky haze, he saw the future his sacrifice created.
Shelby, the girls and her husband, in the park, then it faded,
To Michael reading by his mother’s bedside in complete devotion.
His body was placed within the ground, but his spirit will be forever watchful.