Christian the Beast Pt. 2

Well, this one ended up being a pretty long one. I hope you enjoy this is Christian the Beast part 2.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Christian arrived at the rendezvous about an hour early. He took account of all quick exits and lazily leaned back once he was secure in the fact no one could sneak up on him. The first traveler arrived about thirty minutes early. Christian was actually kind of impressed. This traveler was male and the youngest of the group he had met the night before. The man was probably thirty-four years old. He had scruffy and a lighter shade than most hair. The hair hung down past his ears. His eyes were near black however. The eyes darted back and forth. He was obviously looking for some sort of ambush. Regretfully his senses were not so keen. He didn't even notice Christian in the windowsill only one story above his head.

Christian landed softly on the ground behind the man and quietly drew his dagger. He had a clawed hand on the mans chin and the dagger on his throat. Making the throat completely exposed to the blade. The man panicked and would have slit his own throat if Christian hadn't released him.

“Can't panic like that out in the wastes. You'll get us killed or at least yourself.” Christian laughed as he spoke. The man rubbed his neck as if he had been cut. Christian had not harmed the man in the slightest.

“You could have killed me. Why the hell did you do that?” the man eyed Christian suspiciously.

“I explained already. You act like that out in the wastes and you are dead. Go get the rest of your group. There are no traps waiting for you here at least.” Christian didn't give the man time to reply and bounded back up to the root tops.

The man left hesitantly and was even more cautious. Christian stayed visible till the man turned a corner out of sight. Once the man was gone Christian went into hiding yet again. A little while later the group showed up. Christian jumped down in front of them and gestured for silence. He then held out his hand for the payment. The handed him several pieces of electronics and mechanics. Being reasonably satisfied with the payment Christian turned around and started showing them to the trapdoor he had made. It was strange that the only thing that the various factions would both try and prevent was an escape. Apparently they wanted to keep everyone inside to kill or dominate.

The trapdoor was little more than a section of wall that he had made a removable beam for. Once the beam was taken out the section would fall about one foot from the wall and allow passage to the outside. Christian would then close the door and climb the shear wall before anyone could notice him. The group waited outside the wall as if frozen. Christian hated when they would just stand there. It left them exposed and the infected seemed to be drawn to fear. There were no nearby infect however. Christian had cleared the area before he met the group. It would be safe for at least another day. He waved them on and started towards his unmarked trail. It would be near dark once they reached the first safe house. He hoped they wouldn't make it without him getting to tear out at least one or two infected throats.

After an hour of nothing Christian's ears perked up to the sound of a distant rustling. He gestured for the group to stop. One started to open his mouth and Christian slapped his hand over the man's mouth. It was an experience he did not enjoy, but the groups always wanted to ask why they were stopping. A couple seconds later he heard the sound getting closer. It was now at a run. It could only be one thing if it was running towards them. Crouching down Christian drew out his dagger. In the other hand he had a chain with various bladed hooks on it. He started spinning the chain slowly and listened for the infected.

Bursting out of the trees the infected charged the woman nearest his entry into the clearing. Christian's chain went through the air and with a quick jerk had the infected's flesh hooked and pulled it off its feet. Once it was on the ground Christian pounced. His dagger stabbed the creature through the eye and his teeth tore into its throat. In the course of mere seconds Christian had the infected dispatched and cleaned his dagger. Once the chain was coiled again they were on their way. The entire group stared. He felt their eyes on him. It caused Christian to clean the flesh and blood from his mouth. He hated to lose the taste of the blood so soon, but the travelers were his number one priority and he didn't need any of their distractions.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully they had made it to the first of the seven safe houses between New Richmond and Liberty Village. The safe house was minimally furnished it had about three small mattresses on the floor. And some straw in the corners. The walls however were solid concrete and the single room safe house only had two entrances. A solid steel door and a solid steel hatch. Both of which Christian had made thick chain locks for. Nothing would get in, this however did not guarantee that the night would be without some noise. The infected loved to crash against the doors at night. Christian hoped that the group would get some sleep. Nothing was worse than exhausted humans. They would slow him down and endanger themselves. Once everyone was secure and laying down Christian went out the hatch. Locking it behind him he climbed the nearest tree and took watch. Slowly he allowed sleep to overcome him.

Christian the Beast Pt. 1

So, we are starting a new story. I hope you enjoy this post-apocalyptic anti-hero. Christian the Beast as been sampled before here. It have thought about what direction I would take with his story for some time now and I feel that it will be a fairly simple one. I hope you all are not disappointed by it. Enjoy!

Christian the Beast

Christian laughed to himself as he watched the humans killing each other. Pushed to brink of extinction yet they still battled one another. Christian laughed again as blood dripped down his chin. The battle had been going on and off for days. It had driven most of the game away and drawn an inordinate amount of infected. But the humans ignored the infected as long as they were on the other side of a fence. Christian hated it inside the fences. The current territory he sat above was called New Virginia. He laughed at that though since it was actually only a small section of Richmond that had been recovered and re-purposed. New Virginia was experiencing its third civil conflict since the collapse. Christian always showed up when he heard gunfire however, because when humans fought it meant someone would want to flee. And that flight gave him the opportunity for work. Humans would trade all sorts of knick-knacks for safe travels outside their fences. Christian really had no use for them, but he enjoyed the excursions and it was fun making the humans squirm when they saw him.

It wasn't that Christian was ugly. In fact if he had a species he would probably be a fine specimen of them at their peak condition, but Christian had never met anyone else like himself. He was similar to both man and cat. He stood around 7ft fully erect, but his natural stance was a hunched nearly pouncing position. He could see in the dark though he did not see color. He could smell like an animal, yet he spoke like a man. His body was completely covered in red and blond hair. He was nearly orange at times. His ears were feline. His claws were definitely feline. And his teeth were used for tearing meat. He would eat grains on occasion and they work well enough, but he preferred raw flesh, much like the venison he was eating as he watched the battle below. It was then that he saw the signal.

Stalking silently through the streets he arrived at the gate where his charges awaited.

“Do you have the payment?” growled Christian from behind the group. They all jumped and spun around with weapons raised. Christian simply spread his hands in a gesture of submission. The group consisted of three men and a woman. The men were all in their mid thirties. The woman however was probably about twenty or twenty-two.

“Yeah we got your payment. Half now, half when we 'all' arrive safe at Liberty Village.” the man holding a weathered machete said. Despite his attempt at bravery in renegotiating the terms Christian could smell his fear. Christian however didn't care about the payment.

“Fine. We leave at first light before the fighting starts. Any of you are late and they get left. You leave precisely when I say or I leave you.” Christian jumped to the window about ten feet above them and was soon on the roofs before the group could protest.

Christian slept watching the stars. He had heard that before the infection happened you couldn't see the stars at night. Christian thought again and not for the last time that the infection was probably a good thing, but Christian didn't know anything before he woke up and the world was how it is now. Christian slept well despite the continued gunfire throughout the night.

A Door into the Past Pt. 11

So, I hope you are ready for part 11 because it is crazy and it is starting now. Enjoy!

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 11.

As the water washed over him it burnt the torn flesh. He hardly felt the pain. His body was weak and numb. If he care more he would have probably gone to the hospital. But Marcus didn't care. Life hardly seemed worth living and he was finally going to get some answers. Turning off the water he jumped out of the shower and dried off. He put on his work clothes and walked over to the ax that he had gotten from the garage. Walking from the master bath to his bedroom and out into the hall. Marcus looked at the door. It seemed a waste that he was about to destroy it, but he was tired of not knowing.

The first crash did little more than dent the wood in the middle of the door. The second cut out a chunk between it and the first. Soon the wood was splintering in several places. Though Marcus was sweating and his forehead was bleeding again he did not stop. The door was thick. He was about an inch into it and his arms were burning. A few more strikes and he could tell it was weakening. Finally the ax got stuck as it broke through the door. Marcus put his eye up to the hole, but couldn't see anything. It was too small. He started again with the ax. The floor was thick with blood and splinters. It was a mess, but his goal was ever closer. Soon the hole was big enough that he could see what lied behind the door.

Looking into the hole Marcus saw a wall. Marcus started cutting at the door again, soon he was cutting at the far wall too. After a couple swats he could see through the wall. It led outside. He could see the yard and a tree that was growing to the side of the house.

Marcus dropped the ax. His hands were blistered and bleeding.

“It was just a door. It didn't go anywhere.” his dispair was evident. The gun was still on the floor. His eyes fell on it fully. As he bent over for the gun he caught himself watching the keyhole again. He forced himself to look away. His eyes closed he put the tip of the gun in his mouth.

It was cold and smooth. He could even taste the residue from when he had shot himself earlier. There was a little blood on the muzzle as well. He angle the pistol to the top of his skull. It was almost too big for his mouth. He gaged a little with it inside. He didn't know what to do with his tongue. It felt like it was in the way. He supposed that it didn't matter. So he felt the draw of the trigger. It was stiff. It took more effort than he had expected. The hammer fell. He heard it crack down against the pin. But nothing happened. Opening his eyes he saw the keyhole. It was glowing.

He took the gun out of his mouth. Placing it on the floor he went to the door and it opened. Inside he saw Mr. Blake's office.

“Your not really considering Marcus are you?” Thomas asked Mr. Blake. Thomas was sitting in a chair in front of Mr. Blake's desk. Mr. Blake leaned against the desk looking down his nose at Thomas.

“Of course not Thomas, but I have to make it appear that all candidates are considered and it always increases people's workloads when they think a promotion is on the line.” Mr. Blake said off-handedly.

“Mr. Blake, Thomas has done so much for this company. He deserves it so much more than I do.” Thomas was pleading with Mr. Blake.

“I'm sorry Thomas. This isn't up for discussion. You can pass on the promotion, but Marcus is best served where he is at now.” Mr. Blake turned his back to Thomas and went around the desk to his own seat. Laughing he looked at Thomas. “I've never had such a hard time convincing someone to make more money.”

The room changed it was the living room of the house. Abigail was sitting on the couch next to a man in silhouette. The man caressed her leg and she giggle with pleasure. Soon the man came into focus. It was Marcus. Moments later they were making love on the floor. Marcus remembered the night very well now that he saw it in the proper perspective.

Again the room faded out and changed. It was a waiting room. He instantly recognized it as the one from the earlier vision when he saw Abigail sitting there with Jenny.

“Marcus wouldn't understand.” Abigail said to Jenny there were tears in her eyes.

“He'd understand that you aren't ready to have a kid. You want to finish college first.” Jenny spoke comfortingly.

“No Jenny. I'm getting this abortion and Marcus must never know. He'd hate me forever if he knew. And I'm pretty sure he's the one. I just can't lose him. He can't know because I need him more than ever now.” They both were crying as the nurse came in the room and called Abigail's name. She went back and the vision faded.

Lastly a scene Marcus had not yet seen came into focus. It was the hallway and blood was everywhere. Splinters of wood littered the floor and on the ground was his body. The top of his skull was missing in its place was a pool of gray matter and skull fractures. Abigail was being held back by a paramedic. She was crying and Thomas was trying to comfort her. His face was stained with tears. They were both shaking with grief and Marcus couldn't take the visions anymore. He started towards the opening and fell into a brilliant light.

Opening his eyes he heard the hammer crack down onto the pin and felt fire in his mouth.

The End.

A Door into the Past Pt. 10

There is a heavy weight on my soul as I draw near the ending of this story. It is hard to imagine a pleasant or happy ending. Now mind you that was never the intention of the story, I have always intended this story to end in a less than pleasant manner. But I almost feel like I know Marcus now. Perhaps you all don't know him as well as I do. Since you are limited to what I tell you and I probably do not relay enough information. But Marcus is just a normal man who has realized he doesn't know anything about the people in his life. That everything he knows is probably a lie. That is a heavy weight. I feel that weight as I write out his story. I hope that I transfer some of that emotion to you the reader, because if I don't. Well, then I might as well not be writing it.

Part 1.
Last Week.
Part 10.

Two Weeks Later

Marcus was sitting in front of the door. The house was so quite. He could hear himself think or maybe he was talking to himself. It didn't matter. He was on a forced vacation. He suspected it was better than being fired. Nonetheless he was probably too tired to go back anyway. He hadn't spoken to Abigail since she moved everything out a week ago. She said she was staying with her sister. And that if he wanted to talk all he had to do was call. Marcus however did not want to talk. He didn't want to think or feel. Things had gotten dark the sun had set and Marcus was no longer lost in the twilight. He was beyond hope.

Looking down at his hand Marcus realize how heavy the gun was. He had known before that they were so heavy. Everyone always used them like they were toys in the movies. But they were pieces of steel pieced together. Working flawlessly. He held the tip of the barrel against his temple. It was cold and a welcome distraction. When the steel was pressed against his head he forgot about everything. He only felt, alive.

Marcus' leg was shaking, a nervous habit he had never outgrown. His eyes were clenched shut but he still noticed the slight change in light as the keyhole lit up. The door did it every time Marcus was about to end the pain. Yet, it never failed Marcus would take the gun away form his head and lean forward.

“What terrible truth do you have in mind for me today?” looking through the keyhole Marcus saw a room filled with ornamentation. They were Christmas decorations. In fact the room was in Marcus' childhood home. The same room he decorated every year with his brother. But not this year. This was the year Marcus had decorated alone. Jeremy had died that year. Into the room walked Marcus' mother and father. They were talking. She was crying as she did that entire year.

“Jeremy was a good boy. I don't care what the police say.” Daniel, Marcus' father, was angry. It was anything new. Daniel had been angry long before the accident.

“But they said he had purposefully driven his car into that hillside. They said it was the only explanation.” Pearl, Marcus' mother, was weeping. She had always been emotional. Marcus remembered that every time he got in trouble it would end with him consoling his mother.

“No he'd never do that. He was always so happy...” Daniel didn't seem so certain, he anger abated somewhat, “wasn't he?”

Marcus walked into the room. He was fourteen at the time. He was always angry. At least that is how he felt since the accident. He knew his parents were keeping a secret, but they wouldn't tell him. The stopped talking when he walked in the room.

“Were you talking about the accident again?” Marcus was accusing. “Just put it behind you. He's dead and he's not coming back. It's Christmas for Christ sake.” Marcus left the room. He knew they were telling secrets, but he almost didn't care he was so angry. He just wanted his brother back.

Marcus fell off the chair. He was weeping yet again. The gun slipped from his fingers. His hands were too weak to hold onto it. As it fell through the air he had an instant of realization, then the gun went off. He felt a burning flash of heat spray across his face. He then saw blood running down the bridge of his nose. His eyes had spots and his ears were ringing. He almost felt nothing. It was surreal as if the world was blurring away slowly.

He watched the pool forming on the floor. A slow line of blood worked its way across the floorboards towards the door. He could hear it dripping on the other side. The door goes somewhere was his last thought as he fell into the puddle he had watched so intently.

When Marcus awoke he was sure he was dead, but the sticky wet mess on his face told him otherwise. As he felt his head he thought to find a gaping hole of shattered skull and moist gray matter, but instead he found a thin line of torn flesh. It was terribly tender, but the skull seemed much intact. Looking at the gun and the blood he wondered how he had survived, but he saw the stream and remembered.

“The door goes somewhere.” Marcus whispered as he stood up. He decided two things in that moment. He would find out what was behind that door. And Marcus was going to take a much needed shower.

A Door into the Past Pt. 9

Greetings loyal readers. I am glad to see you have returned to my humble blog. I fear my language may appear strange in this story. I kept catching myself speaking in such a drab and old sounding voice(which in this situation of course means in the written sense and not the spoken) that I had to keep correcting myself. You see I watched some episodes of the Borgias today and that made quite a mark on my internal narration. I hope you don't mind. But please enjoy the now longest part of this increasingly large short story.

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 9.

Marcus came to handcuffed to a chair. His head was heavy and throbbing from the blow. He looked around and saw people staring and pointing. For the moment he could not recognize them. One of them began to approach. Marcus finally recognized her as a police officer. She looked him in the eyes.

“You're a real lucky bastard. Your buddy Thomas is hurt pretty bad, but he refuses to press charges. I think you had better look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself what your problem is.” the officer began to take the cuffs off. “You're not going to assault me too are you? I wouldn't advise it.”

“No, I won't attack you, officer.” Marcus still felt like his head was on the verge of collapsing in on itself, but it was holding together for now at least. “Am I free to go?”

“We're gonna need a statement then you are free to get yourself home. Your wife is waiting over there.” the officer pointed at Abigail. Marcus looked at her, but he didn't want her to be here. He didn't want to see her. She looked very distraught. She was talking to Thomas who was being looked after by a paramedic. Marcus felt the rage boil up again. He looked away for what little good it would do.

“I think I would sit here awhile. I fear my head isn't well. The pain is quite intense.” Marcus did not lie, but his exaggeration seemed to be enough. The officer asked for his version of the story and then she left. Marcus was glad he wasn't going to jail, but he couldn't help but feel indignant that he was at Thomas' mercy.

Thomas always envied Marcus, Marcus knew this deep down. Ever since they met it had been Marcus who had everything. Thomas was in short term relationship after relationship. Thomas was never the top designer. Thomas was nothing without Marcus, yet somehow Thomas was stealing Marcus' world.

Abigail looked over and saw Marcus staring. She started walking over he looked away, but it was too late as her hand rested on his shoulder.

“Oh Marcus, what has gotten into you? Marcus look at me. You're scaring everyone who loves you.” her woulds were desperate and sad. Perhaps he could care for her, but never Thomas again.

“Thomas tries to steal everything. I have worked so hard. And Thomas thinks he just deserves it.” Marcus growled through his throbs of pain.

“You are mistaken Marcus. Thomas wants nothing, but good for you. He had tried to dissuade Mr. Blake from promoting him over you. He told me all about it. He didn't want you to know. But Mr. Blake said he wouldn't even consider you. You were too valuable as a full-time designer. Marcus listen to me. We all love you so much. Whatever is going on inside your head, just come back to us.” she said all the right things. Marcus couldn't believe them. He knew what he had seen and heard with his own eyes and ears. The door was showing him truth in a world of lies. These people didn't love him.

“I want you to move out, Abigale. Go live with Thomas. I know its what you both want. I saw the way he touched your thigh that time and the way you giggled with excitement. Just go. I'm through with you.” he saw the tears now. She was a convincing actress. Perhaps she should had gone to Hollywood. Abigail walked away in confusion. Marcus smiled to himself as she went to the paramedic. The paramedic nodded and followed her back over.

“Hello Marcus. I'm just gonna look at your eyes. I hope you don't mind. We just need to make sure you didn't sustain a head injury. They are quite common in these sort of situations.” Marcus was complicit though he did not like that Abigail still stood there. Her tears were breaking his resolve. “Good, good. Now let me check the wound. Tell me how badly does this hurt.” A sharp pain went through Marcus' entire skull as if he was struck yet again.

“Shit, that hurt like hell you fucking idiot.” Marcus about punched the man, but stopped himself.

“Good. You seem in perfect health for having a bronze statue blasted against your skull. There appears to be no fractures, but we will take you in and get your skull x-rayed, alright?” the man was entirely too cheerful. Marcus hated him already, but he grasped at any opportunity to get away from Abigail now.

“Just take me there now. And don't let her ride with us. I don't want to see her.” Marcus was placed on a stretcher and rolled away. It felt better to be away from Abigail, but his realities were fighting none the less. Marcus wondered to himself is Mr. Blake really didn't promote him because he was too valuable.

A Door into the Past Pt. 8

Yet another exciting installment if I may say so myself. This one was quite fun to write and is thus far the longest entry yet for this story. It however should read rather quickly since it is actually one of the more action packed posts. But without further delay please enjoy this new episode of suspense and disaster.

Part 1.
Last Week.
Part 8.

As Marcus completed the work he knew it was finally ready. He had changed the entire design. Where once was a sunrise it was now a sunset. He didn't even know why it had been a sunrise before. It was always meant to set. That is how he had seen it in the sky only a few days ago.

So, when Thomas came up the stairs Marcus was waiting for him.

“Here it is. Everything is in order it will be ready for production by the end of the day. Several days ahead of schedule I'd like to remind you.” Marcus was confident in the work, however as Thomas looked it over Marcus' smile faded.

“You've changed everything. Almost reversed the entire design. Are you sure this is still what you want? I'm not so certain of it. It seems almost gloomy.” Thomas was being shrewd. He was simply surprised by the changes. He'll come around this piece was genius.

“It will be fine Thomas. Believe me I know design. This will be a bigger hit than the other one would have. And we don't have time for both. I say we do this one.” with a slap on the back and a laugh Marcus almost convinced himself, “Have I ever led you astray?” He knew the answer he made this company. Without him it would have closed years ago. So, he knew his vote of confidence would also push his shoe through. It would be produced by the thousands.

“I... I guess you're right. I never had the grasp on design you had. Thanks. I'm glad you are excited about this. You're even getting me excited. This will be good.” Thomas walked away. Marcus knew the next step it was very like old times. A design meeting would be called. During the meeting everyone would ooh and aah Marcus' work and then the team would put it out for the fabrication team and soon we would have them ready to sell and the company would profit.

This time however things didn't go according to history. Everyone looked at the shoe and visibly their excitement would lessen. Instead of complementing him they averted their eyes. It was all wrong. It was even worse when Mr. Blake walked in the room.

“I heard that Marcus was revealing our next blockbuster.” he walked up to the designs and looked at them then looked at Marcus. He looked back at the design and finally back at Marcus.

“What do you think Mr. Blake? Can we take it to production?” Thomas said the words from the doorway he was only just coming into the meeting room. He had a portfolio under his arm. Marcus knew what was in the portfolio.

“Um, Thomas I don't think this shoe will go to production. It has a sort of melancholy about it.” and then the room filled with voices of agreement. Many were apologetic as they looked to Marcus, but it was their overall concert of disinterest in producing that shoe.

“I was afraid that was how you would feel. So, undenounced to Marcus I worked on some of his preliminary designs for that shoe and I think these are production ready.” Thomas took out the pieces he had slipshod together. There was no art to them. It was simply a recreation of Marcus' own work. Some slight color changes a thinning of the star-burst and an angle loosened here while one was tightened there. Overall it was identical however. Mr. Blake smiled as he looked at the piece.

“Oh Marcus this is brilliant I have no idea why you change it.” Mr. Blake gave Marcus the credit, but that didn't matter he may not have even heard. Marcus was outraged that Thomas would reveal work he thought unworthy and had specifically set aside.

“You whimpering shit. I have worked above you like a god and you think you can take my leavings and use them to your own glorification. You think to have my wife, my career, my work. Well take it all you filthy whore. Maybe another day or two deep in Mr. Blake's asshole will get you another promotion.” Marcus didn't know what he was doing, 'I'm getting this abortion...' and her laughter filled his ears as he punched Thomas' surprised face. Thomas fell to the floor blood spilling on the gray carpet of the conference room. He saw the silhouette touching his wife's thigh. She giggled with heavy lust filled breath. Marcus managed to kick Thomas in the ribs before the others started pulling him off. They held him tightly yelling for him to stop. He couldn't hear them, 'I'm getting this abortion...' Everything went black when one of them clubbed him over the head.

Sketch of the Week 11

Here is a collection of some sketches I've done and thought worthy of sharing.

A Door into the Past Pt. 7

Well, this weeks post is pretty special to me. I really feel like the story just got some real traction. Things are going to move quite quickly here soon. I was wondering for a while if I hadn't accidentally started a novel instead of a short story, but no worries I see an ending on the horizon. I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 7.

Marcus fell to his knees. “I'm getting this abortion...” kept ringing in his ears. It was all he could hear. He felt sick and weak at the same time. She never even asked him. It was all he could do to stand. He walked to the bedroom. Abigail was sleeping soundly. A small smile on her face. Marcus ignored her as best he could. His grabbed his wallet and left.

“I'm getting this abortion... I'm getting this abortion...” it was on loop in his mind. All he heard the entire driving. Walking up the stairs to his office he was numb with it. His mind was lost to the power of those words. He of course was surprised when Thomas tapped on his shoulder.

“Hello Earth to Marcus. You awake man? I need to know where you are on those revisions. Remember I gave you a week. You need to have all the revisions ironed out by tomorrow if you hope to be ready in time.” Thomas almost sounded kind. Marcus didn't know if it was true or simply in his head it didn't matter.

“Yeah, the revisions. I'll have them ready tomorrow. Let me print a copy of what I have so far.” The copy printed and Thomas hardly seemed to notice how distant Marcus' voice was as he listened to the explanation of the revisions.

“Okay looks good to me. Remember I want this finalized tomorrow and ready to go to the rest of the team so that everything can be set by weeks end. These have to be done in time for our summer series launch.” Thomas walked out the room. Looking back he saw Marcus with head hung low, he did not stop.

The numbness continued throughout the rest of the day. His once bright and exciting project was now simply a tolerated diversion. His drive home was a blink of an eye. He didn't remember getting to his house. He didn't remember taking a chair upstairs. He didn't remember sitting in front of the door for hours.

“Marcus! What the hell are you doing?” Abigail was shaking him. She looked worried.

“Did you do it?” Marcus was blank faced he didn't even look at her.

“Do what? What is wrong? How long have you been here?” Abigail had genuine concern on her face. Marcus was finally gaining his wits. His legs were sore from sitting as he stood up next to his wife. Looking her in the face he saw her confusion.

“Did you really have an abortion? Was it mine?” Marcus looked at her. Her eyes grew with shock. She looked away. Her face grew red quickly and a tear formed and fell. Her knees gave out and she landed on the floor.

“How did you find out about the abortion?” she still didn't look at him. Marcus couldn't think of how to answer that particular question. He didn't think the door telling him was a plausible response.

“I heard you talking to Jen one time. I guess with my job stuff I thought it was time I found out.” Marcus knew it was a weak lie, but hoped it would suffice. She looked up at him. Her whole face and person was in disarray. Black eyeliner ran lines down her now rosy cheeks. Her eyes were filled with red lightning and swollen near closed. He wondered why he couldn't sympathize.

“I guess it doesn't matter. It was yours. I'm sorry. I didn't know if we would even stay together. I was just starting college. I had so many classes. I was working. It was all too much. I... I didn't tell you, because I didn't really even know you yet. We had only been dating a couple months.” she seemed genuine. Her pain was so real. The guilt must have grown for years. Yet he still couldn't sympathize. It was too hurtful a secret.

As Marcus packed his bag he faintly heard her pleas behind him.

“I just need some space. I can't believe you lied to me like this.” Marcus went outside and got in his car. As the engine started he felt something be left behind. He pulled the car out and drove away. The hotel down the street would have sufficed, but he had work to do. He parked outside the door, he didn't bother using an actual parking spot. As he walked up the stairs to his office he saw the sun setting in his mind and he knew what he had to do.

A Door into the Past Pt. 6

Marcus is a lot like me. He thinks and reacts similarly to myself. Also, I can only remember things I don't want to and can't forget the things I want to. But I think he is probably much better at focusing than I am. I hope you enjoy todays piece.

Part 1.

Last Week.

Part 6.

The day went by like a blur. Thomas kept his distance and Marcus was too afraid to seek him out. Marcus didn't know what to think, the letter seemed sincere. On the drive home Marcus saw another sunset the sun seemed to be going away leaving nothing but darkness behind.

Abigail his dinner set when Marcus got home. It was a spread of leftovers. In every way Abigail lacked in domesticity, she more than made up for in personality. He remembered the first he saw her. He was waiting in line in the dormitory cafeteria. She was serving mashed potatoes. Or some sort of white sludge. Her hair was in a net yet it still shown a beautiful auburn. She was talking to another server about this book series. Some sort of knights and magic thing. She was glowing as she discussed the story. She didn't even notice Marcus, but he noticed her.

As they prepared for bed Marcus tried to remember the last time Abigail had read a book, he couldn't. How had he not noticed before. Marcus decided then and there he was gonna try and find Abigail a new book.

“Hey babe, do you remember what that book series you were reading in college was called? The one with the knights and magic and stuff?” Marcus tried to make the question sound off-handed.

“Um, let me think. That must have been the Mist Caller Chronicles. That's pretty random though. What brought that up?”

“I was just thinking about the first time I saw you. I couldn't remember the name of the books you were talking about.”

“Oh yeah. Those books were pretty lame in retrospective. Just some flimsy love triangle with really flat characters, but you know sometimes that stuff is nice.”

Marcus decided he wouldn't get her more of those books then. Obviously she didn't read those any more. Maybe he could get her those vampire books everyone was reading. She said she wanted to see the movies when they had come out. Marcus decided he'd check the book store on the way home tomorrow. It was time for bed.

As Marcus slept all he saw was the figure caressing Abigail's leg. And her laughter thick with sexuality chased him through the dreams. His alarm went off right as he was about to distinguish the figure. Showering and dressing had finally become mundane in the new house. He knew where everything was and there was no more searching required. He didn't even notice the door as he passed it. Going downstairs he went to the kitchen and put some waffles in the toaster. It was then that he noticed that he had forgotten his wallet.

“I guess I haven't completely gotten used to this new routine.”

Walking up the stairs he watched the door as he ascended. A thin spray of light was coming out of the keyhole.

“Not again. I'll ignore it.”

As he walked passed he heard Abigail's voice.

“Marcus wouldn't understand.” The door was louder than usual. It was calling him.

Looking back Marcus couldn't stop. He had to see what this new mirage was. As the opening came into focus Marcus saw Abigail sitting in a waiting room. She looked much younger this must have taken place during college. Abigail's friend Jenny was holding Abigail comforting her. They were both crying.

“He'd understand that you aren't ready to have a kid. You want to finish college first.” Jenny spoke comfortingly.

“No Jenny. I'm getting this abortion and Marcus must never know.”

A Door into the Past Pt. 5

 Wow, I really got into todays piece. I was writing it and went wow I just really screwed this story up didn't I. Then I decided, well this is what feels right so whatever. I hope you enjoy part 5.

Part 1. 

Last Week.

Part 5.

As he pulled up to the factory Marcus noticed something strange. Thomas' car was there already. Marcus did not want this. He had planned to be alone a few more hours. There was nothing he could do now. Marcus parked in his usual spot and made for the side door he always used. Waiting at the door was Thomas.

“Hey, Marcus I am so glad you finally got here. Usually you're hear about twenty minutes earlier. 5:20 is late for you, but I suppose I can hardly complain.” Thomas struck his cigarette butt against the wall. Ash and sparks were tossed by a slight breeze. Though there was a garbage can right next to him Thomas threw the cigarette on the ground. It inflamed Marcus. “I'll be frank. I saw shoe. It is amazing. We'll do a couple tweaks I thought up and have it ready to start production in no time. I can't believe one day in this job and I already got a sure hit.” Thomas stopped after noticing Marcus' expression.

Marcus just looked at Thomas. He had stopped in his tracks as soon as Thomas mentioned the designs. This was all wrong. He had put them in his desk. This was a violation and beyond that he felt the design was being stolen from him. A few tweaks. That meant a slight measurement alteration and then both their names will appear on it. Thomas will probably even put his name first. It was too much and too soon.

“You touch a single thread on my designs and I will quit taking them with me. I have had it with your medaling. You haven't even designed one shoe that has sold higher than 5^th in a year. Any designs that we collaborated on you sat in the back and watch as I did the real work. You are nothing more than an ass kissing dog who deserves to have his nose rubbed in some fresh shit he just left all over my lawn.” Marcus couldn't believe the words as he said them. Thomas stood their slightly agape. It was the first time Marcus had stood up to him. Marcus however was unsure which of them was more surprised.

“I had no idea you felt that way. So, I'm a dog am I? Well, this dog has teeth Marcus. You remember that. Go back to work. I want those designs production read in a week.” Thomas sneered as he spoke. His once shocked face was now cold hard vengeance.

Marcus knew he couldn't get the designs ready in a week, but what was he supposed to do. He knew he was over reacting. They had been friends hadn't they, but he couldn't get the image out of his head. The hand touching his wives thigh. Her giggling. It wasn't an innocent touch. He could tell he knew.

Arriving in his office he saw all the papers laying out on the table. There was a letter as well.

Marcus,

If I didn't catch you at the door I just wanted to tell you how amazed I am by your work. This piece will be more popular than any of the ones you've made before. But I guess I'm really writing to say I'm sorry. I know the promotion meant a lot to you. I shouldn't have even applied, but I really felt I needed to. I have always been in your shadow creatively. I just thought this was my big break. I was so worried when you left during my speech. And I went straight to your house. I waited till Abigale got home and I asked if she knew where you were. We were both kind of frightened. So, we waited. Neither of us ate or anything. We were so worried. Then when you got there you were so cold. I guess I was kind of a dick. I don't know. I guess I'm rambling now. The true point of this letter is to say I hope that we can still be friends. I hope it isn't weird for too long.

Your friend,

Thomas

P.S. This really is a kick-ass design dude.

A Door into the Past Pt. 4

As with Bleakman's Bog it gets easier and easier every part. This one was quite easy to write. I feel that I just follow Marcus and allow his perception of the world to lead the way. But, you are here to read about 'A Door into the Past' not my mindless ramblings.

Part 1. 

Last Week.

Part 4.

As Marcus opened the door. He heard a conversation cut off mid-sentence.

“Oh Marcus. Thank God. We were so worried!” Abigale jumped from her seat. The action moved Thomas' hand from her thigh. Moving across the room she hugged Marcus tightly. “I'm so sorry about the promotion. Thomas told me everything. Where were you?”

“I'm sorry I worried you. I kind of needed time alone. I just sat by myself for awhile. I watched the sun go down it was quite beautiful.” stopping before he spoke about the new shoe design Marcus looked over at Thomas. “Sorry I didn't get to congratulate you. I was a little upset about my not getting promoted. I hope I didn't offend.”

“Of course not Marcus. I know how emotional you can get. It is fine. You missed some delicious cake though. And Debbie actually made a move on my. Can you believe it? Miss Unibrow thought I'd be interested.” Thomas laughed at his own joke.

“You know I've never been fond of you calling her that. She is incredibly nice.”

“Should have married her than and left Abby to me.” Thomas winked at them exaggeratedly. “Well, I better be going. Will you make it to work tomorrow Marcus?”

“Bright and early as always. You rarely beat me in. We'll see if this new station changes that.”

The tension was intense. Marcus felt a weight lifted once Thomas left. The cordiality was all a facade between them. Something had changed. Perhaps Marcus only just now saw Thomas for what he was. A bona-fide douche. Or perhaps his jealousy was getting away from him. It didn't matter. He should have been in bed hours ago.

He woke up before his alarm this morning. Marcus was excited about presenting his new shoe design. Getting ready was a breeze. The house was so quite. He noticed this as he walked over what was normally a very squeaky board. It was then that he heard Abigale giggle. But it wasn't from her bedroom. Marcus looked at the door to nowhere. He stepped closer, as if approaching a venomous snake. As he drew closer heard another voice. A male voice. He looked through the key hole again. It was his living room. He saw Abigale on the couch with a man. The man was, the man looked like, Marcus jumped back as his alarm started going off. Putting his eye back to the hole it was dark. Nothing was there. Marcus left the door. Walking back into the bedroom he turned off the alarm.

“Hey baby. You were already up?” Abigale looked at Marcus sleepily.

“Yeah, sorry if I woke you up. I forgot to turn it off.” Marcus looked at Abigale wearily.

“What's wrong Marcus? You still upset? You should call off. They don't even deserve your talent. Choosing Thomas over you. Can you believe it?” she said all the right things, but somehow the words were almost hollow to Marcus.

“Yeah, I'm still a little upset. But I think I'll be okay. I'll see you later.” Marcus kissed Abigale on the forehead and made way for the door.

That figure couldn't have been Thomas. He was touching her thigh. Holding it while he whispered and made Abigale laugh. As Marcus passed the door he thought he heard the giggle again, but he refused to stop. It was all a trick. It was stress based. Soon everything would be normal again.

Getting in his car Marcus made way the shoe factory. He would be there for even the janitors went home. He liked working in the calm. He would like the time alone.

A Door into the Past Pt. 3

This part was so easy to write. I don't know why, but it was. I feel I might have expressed a character better than I ever have in this piece. I don't know if that is true or not. I'll leave that up to you. There isn't a lot that happens in this piece, but I tried to symbolize some stuff and I hope you catch on in the subtext of what does happen. Well, without further delay please enjoy 'A Door into the Past' Pt. 3.

Part 1.
Last Weeks.
Part 3.

Marcus felt like he couldn't get home fast enough. The road was a blur and the lines were an illusion. He didn't remember stopping. But he found himself at a light. It was green. That didn't matter. He sat there and cried. He couldn't believe he was crying. Cars were behind him, people were honking and cursing. He touched the gas ever so gently. He rolled to the side of the road and watched as cars swerved past him. It was a blur. Nothing made sense. He knew the must have imagined the door. It couldn't have been real. It was simply a manifestation of his doubt.

He wasn't sure how long he sat on the side of the road, but as the sun set he saw the orange glow of twilight. It was beautiful. He felt inspired. Turning around he went back to the factory. Luckily he had a key to the side entrance. Turning off the alarm momentarily he went up to his office and started on his work.

If painters used a canvas, Marcus' canvas was a shoe. A shoe has to function. But to find the art and bring it beyond function that is what he did. The contours of the foot could be art in and of themselves. He used them in his designs. This one was going to be a masterpiece. It was too be a canvas slip-on, his favorite style. It would hold to many conventions. But he was going to force some angles in the material. A right angle above the arch exaggerating it. That right angle was broken by a stripe that went above on the front and below on the back. The strip fanned out into a sun burst closing off the shoe's quarter. Where the twin sunbursts met on the back of the quarter he added another right angle. This one however was even more entwined almost woven into the sunbursts. On the toe cap he decided to use a white closed rubber toe cap that reached up to the elongated tongue. The eyelets wouldn't have laces, but elastic connections each one creating the colors of a sunset. The stripe would meet at the bottom of the eyelets where the toe cap ends. The stripe would be an orange gradient into red. The right angles would both be a midnight blue, while the base canvas was a sky blue.

Marcus stood back looking at his sketches and fabric samples. It was beautiful. He left his office and went home. Checking his phone he saw he had seven missed calls. And that it was nearly midnight. How had time flown by so quickly. He called Abigale back, but she didn't answer.

The ride home didn't take long. Abigale's car was in the driveway and so was Thomas'. Marcus wasn't sure if he should go in. At that moment the happenings of that afternoon all rushed back to him. Marcus didn't want to go inside, but he had to do something.

The door was unlocked and he saw two figures sitting in the living room when he looked through the window. Abigale was going to be furious.

Sketch of the Week 7

Wow, we got #7 here. I think this is going swimmingly. How about yall? If you have any sketch suggestions comment. I don't see why I couldn't take requests. Thanks for your continued support and views. Enjoy 'Blork takes his Grungal to the Park.'

'Blork takes his Grungal to the Park' B/W

'Blork takes his Grungal to the Park' Color!

A Door into the Past Pt. 2

Welcome to my next installment. I hope you missed me. I know I missed you. Please enjoy my story! 

Check out last week first if you missed it.

Part 2.

Marcus was running late for work. It was uncommon for him, but the move had exhausted him more than he had expected. It was going to be another long day at the office and with the management position opening up his tardiness couldn't have come at a worse time. Walking towards the stairwell he heard something coming from the door to nowhere.

“Your not really considering Marcus are you?” the voice sounded like his buddy Thomas Shoemaker.

“Of course not Thomas, but I have to make it appear that all candidates are considered and it always increases people's workloads when they think a promotion is on the line.” that voice sounded like Mr. Blake the owner of Blake's Shoes.

Marcus stopped in his steps and walked up to the door. The voices laughed and Marcus put his eye to the key hole. He saw Mr. Blake leaning against his desk and...

“What are you doing Marcus? You're late remember?” Abigale asked.

Marcus nearly fell over he was so surprised.

“Um, sorry. I thought I had heard something coming from behind the door. I'll be on my way.” Marcus kissed his wife on the cheek and then leaned in for her lips. She pushed him away. “Love you darling.” Marcus ran out the door.

That evening Marcus tried to pry the door for the first time. He knew what he heard. He just couldn't believe it. It must be a trick of some sort. The door wouldn't budge. He tried even tried to saw between the frame and the door maybe to cut through the latch bolt. However it was too tight. Nothing availed him. He then realized Abigale would be home soon. He but his tools away. It was amazing that he hadn't somehow damaged the frame or door, but he assumed it must just be quality construction.

Abigale brought home Chinese. Marcus hated Chinese, but he tolerated it since it was his wife's favorite. The brushed their teeth, made love, and went to bed. This continued in a similar fashion for some time. The weekends usually involved little home improvement projects and more unpacking. But all the while nothing strange occurred. Eventually the words spoken by the door were forgotten.

“I would like to present the new creative director of Blake's Shoes a man who is all our friend and has been a invaluable asset to the company, Mr. Thomas Shoemaker.” Mr. Blake clapped Thomas on the shoulder as Thomas took his place in front of the small creative team.

Marcus sat in the back of the room. He was dumbfounded. It had been his designs that made the company successful. It had nearly gone bankrupt before he arrived. It was in that moment he remembered what he had saw and heard. Had the door warned him.

“I was as surprised as you all are. My shock was soon replaced with a firm belief that I didn't deserve this. I said why me? And Mister Blake looked at me and said, 'You applied for this now show me you're ready.' Well, Mister Blake today I would like to tell you I am ready. And I think that we are all ready. Because this would not have been possible without you all. Especially my good friend Marcus. Marcus we owe this all to you buddy. We might not even be here today without you.” the whole time Thomas smiled this putrid self-righteous smile. When his eyes landed on Marcus a bit of a sneer creep across his face.

Marcus felt sick. This was all wrong. Thomas continued to speak and laugh, but it was incoherent all Marcus could here was the conversation from the door. It was impossible, yet it had happened. There was something strange about that house. And Marcus was going to find out now.

Slamming his chair back against the wall he walked out of the office. He didn't even bother to punch-out. It didn't matter. They needed him. He was gone. He needed to know about the door. The door to nowhere.

A Door into the Past Pt. 1

Greetings blog readers. As you can see we are starting a new story this week. I hope you all enjoyed Bleakman's Bog. I am going in a new direction with this story. It will be more realistic, but there will be some science fiction things coming into the story. As you can tell by the title and the labels I am dealing with time travel. However, I feel that I will be dealing with it in a fairly unique way. Without further delay. Here is the newest story for Imaginary Ramblings!

A Door into the Past

by

Matthew Jones

“As you can see here the wood floor is original and has been kept in impeccable condition.” Susan was showing the house for the fourth time. She new the house from top to bottom and could answer nearly every question.

“What about right here? These scuff marks in front of the door.” Marcus reached for the door. It was locked. “Hey what's in here?”

Those were the two questions every person asked. Yet, she still had no answer. Every locksmith they had hired failed or quit. They tried forcing it, but it was just too sturdy. Short of ripping it out of the wall they had tried everything. And the scuff marks were a mystery as well. The man who had owned the house before was very strange, but other than someone sitting in that spot in front of the door there was no other explanation.

“The scuff marks appear to be from a chair. The door however as far as the floor plans are concerned goes nowhere. Since as you know the last owner committed suicide two years ago we could not ask him.” Susan Cage looked at the couple hopefully. This answer was usually where people decided this house was too old, scary, rundown or whatever other excuse they could come up with.

“A decorative door how quaint. Don't you think so Marcus?” Abigale Pierce the wife or Marcus Pierce always preferred to look on the bright side.

When they had seen the house and how little was being asked for it. They immediately called the agent. Once they were told the owner had committed suicide Abigale looked at Marcus and said 'At least it got us a lower price.'

“I suppose we can ignore the nowhere door. However, these scuffs on the floor are quite an eyesore and located right across from the master bedroom.” Marcus ever the deal maker tried every angle he could use to lower a price.

“Yes, of course. Let's go and see the master bath. It is absolutely lovely.”

The deal was struck a beautiful home with new owners. After a couple months all the loans and paperwork went through. Finally they would be home. Marcus and Abigale walked into their new home. A feeling of achievement rushed over the both of them. As they made love the warm wood floors felt more like home than ever.

Bleakman's Bog Pt. 9

Well, we have had a long journey together and I feel like this has been a true adventure. I hope you grew and enjoyed along my side. Without further rambling here is the finale of Bleakman's Bog.

The First Part. Last Week.
The Finale


The end had finally arrived. All these years of waiting.
“Golem grab Duncan and drag him down to the cellar.” Anne's lips smiled sweetly.
Olga finally had her wish. Olga's revenge would be complete. Using Anne's fingers Olga caressed the worn and tattered lace. A crash came from the steps as Duncan landed on the floor. Olga stood over him Thomas and her body to her back.
“Release her... Please, I give up. Just release my wife and child.” Duncan could barely speak the words were nothing but a whisper.
Dennis pulled Duncan to his feet and held him arms bound by the golem's unnatural strength.
“Oh, Hanna. Sure as a final favor. Hanna come to me!” Anne's lips twisted in a wicked smile.
Hanna stepped carefully down the steps. Shyly she approached the witch in Anne's body. Her eyes were cast down.
“Hanna look your father has come to exchange his life for your own. How about you give your father a hug. Thank him like a good girl.” Olga was feeling excitement like never before.
Hanna embrace her father. Her chains clanging together. The witch looked at Dennis and with nothing, but a nod and a thought Dennis let go of Duncan and ripped Hanna's head right off. A shrill sound spread through the air. Darkness started to stream from the open wound and filled the air. It traveled finally to land in Anne's hand. Hanna's body fell and the darkness leg disappeared.
Duncan stared in shock and horror.
“That was so much more satisfying. The first time I killed her you were unconscious. Though to be precise I did not kill her this time. She was already dead. However, in your eyes I see that there was little difference.” Anne's face nearly glowed with joy.
“Why are you doing this? Just kill me already.” Duncan could barely stand his body hung like a scarecrow.
“Why? That is a good question. Perhaps I will tell you in the afterlife, if I ever die.” she smiled to herself. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of answers. “Dennis my dear. Please place Duncan before Thomas.”
Roughly Dennis force Duncan onto his knees in front of the perfectly preserved and repaired Thomas Bleakman.
“It takes a tremendous amount of energy to bring a soul back. I will be using every once of your life force to return Thomas to his rightful place by my side. I will then leave your Anne's body. She will die. Perhaps you will find each other in the afterlife. I sincerely hope you don't.”
Suddenly she clapped her hands together. Dennis' body fell to the ground. The light started to gather into Anne's hands. The energy left every stone and corner of the room. What was once the center of life was now as dead and dark as the rest of the bog. Anne's body glowed with brilliant light. It was tearing at her flash. Walking up to Dennis he looked her in the eyes. Tears were falling now, both their eyes were wet. Her hands burned as they grasped either side of his head. He felt the life draining out of him. He felt it streaming through him. He felt something. Something kind.
“Who are you?” a voice asked.
The pain was too much Duncan could not answer.
“I should have known. I am sorry.”
The essence was gone. So was the energy. So was everything.



Opening his eyes Thomas looked on the primal plane for the first time in years. He recognized the room. Though it was in very bad shape. He did not recognize the woman standing before him.
“Thomas, oh my Thomas I have waited so long for you.”
The vengeance had run its course. Suddenly Olga's body began to spasm with black smoke and blood spurted from every orifice. Anne's body began to do the same.
“Thomas, help me Thomas. What is happening?”
“Oh, my dear Olga. Vengeance requires a fee. I fear that you are the price it requires.“
“How can you just sit there and watch... I am dying Thomas.”
“My dear. There is nothing I can do. If you had not asked for this thing. Perhaps we could have spent many years together in the beyond, but I fear your soul is tainted. You will not be welcome. It pains me do much. You should not have brought me back.”
Anne's body drew its last breath and they both lay there dead. Olga's soul passed to the lands of darkness eternal. Thomas felt her go beyond his touch. His tears were sincere, though his heart did not know the soul that had passed it was so fouled by Vengeance. Thomas also felt Duncan, Dennis, Anne, and Hanna. With a slight push of his power he nudged them towards their final resting. The light was beautiful. Thomas smiled and walked up the rotten steps of his old home.
Looking out the door her saw a glimpse of the sun through the now dissipating mists. Stepping out of the house he pushed his power ever so slightly. With each step the gray became green. Thomas Bleakman smiled and whistled a jovial song that hadn't been heard for years. His steps had a spring in them. The sky cleared more with each step. And soon even the trees started to get green buds on them.



Thomas Bleakman was not a cold hearted man. He felt the weight of all that had transpired. It was simply a question of time. He had no time to mourn. A lifetime was a short thing. Even for someone who has already lived one.

The End 

 

Bleakman's Bog Pt. 8

So, I was sick all weekend. But don't let that worry you this week's post did not suffer. Now that everything is coming together we will finally be prepared for the shocking finale coming in just one week. That's right next week will conclude Bleakman's Bog.

The First Part. Last Week.
Now please enjoy Part 8 of Bleakman's Bog!

As Olga's shell became warm with life again she stood on her shriveled dead legs. Olga soon realized that her young body was no more. Her skin was sunken and she had shriveled, worn eyes that could hardly see. She had been dead for quite sometime. Vengeance had brought her back, and vengeance showed her a bit of lace on the ground. The lace from that poor girl's dress. The power of vengeance overcame her as she touched the bit from the dress and she saw the truth.
Olga saw the man with the dark eyes offering the child a piece of rock sugar. She saw the man do things, terrible things. Olga saw him bury the girl's body outside his cottage. She saw him leading searches. And lastly Olga saw him “find” the lace in her husband's cellar. Lastly she saw the man's name. He was known as Tobias Stone.
Olga's first task was to get Thomas' body back. But as she walked to the edges of the dead ground she was shocked with agonizing pain. When she could go no further she stood there looking at the good and decent things outside her perimeter of death. An image of a shadow came to her. Another gift of vengeance.
Olga pushed her soul into the blackness. She pushed herself towards what felt like death, but vengeance told her this was the way. Soon everything became black and her body fell to the ground. When she awoke she found herself weaker than she had ever felt.
Somehow, Olga was home. She was sitting in her rocking chair, for how long she did not know. Olga walked down the stairs into the cellar and there she found him. Although his body was torn and battered, Olga knew it was him. It wasn't something she knew by looking at him, but for something told her it was Thomas.
Olga felt so weak. So, she went back to the chair and rested. While Olga slept she dreamed of the man who had caused all her pain. Tobias Stone stayed clear of the towns small children. In fact he took a wife and moved out into the forest. Tobias had a son and he named that boy Duncan Stone. Soon Tobias died, but his son lived pumping the blood of Olga's transgressor through his veins.
The dreams gave Olga no sense of time. It seemed like eternity and an instant, but one day she awoke as a deer was pierced by an arrow. The creature's life was flooding from it, Olga did not let the deer rest. No it would bring Duncan to her. This deer would allow her vengeance. Only a few more components were required to complete the ritual. And Duncan was the first of them.


Olga used Anne's lips to smile. She had placed her body next to Thomas so that they could slumber and grow strong together. Thomas' body as well as her own body looked better than they had before their death. The spells and the power from children had returned the bodies to their prime. All she needed was Duncan and everything would be complete. With Duncan and Anne's souls as sacrifice she would be able to return Thomas and herself back. It would all happen soon she felt Duncan's stumble closer every second.


Dennis followed the call of the witch. Soon perhaps sweet sleep would be allowed, but until then he would do as commanded. He had no other choice. The mists made way for him. Soon the mists opened up to the witch's hovel. He stepped in the door and stood awaiting his next command. Perhaps he might be commanded to sleep. That would be a blessing indeed. If only that would be his next command.


Duncan saw the mists swirling around the entrance to a door. At the entrance he saw Dennis standing in the entryway. Duncan couldn't face that creature again. Dennis had nearly killed him last time. However that did not change what had to happen. Duncan continued his hobbling march. Right to the front door. Right to the monster that had once been Dennis Ironarm. Right to the home of the most evil thing that had ever touched his soul. Right to is Anne. Duncan looked in the door around the still motionless Dennis. In the hovel Duncan saw his beautiful Hanna chained in a corner and Duncan fell to his knees. Nothing could have prepared him for this. Hanna was dead he knew she was dead. But when Hanna looked up from the dirty wood floor she had no life in her eyes. And as he saw the hollowness in her eyes he saw the truth of her. Her skin hung loose in places and was completely gone in others. What had once been her leg was now a shadowy form that sucked the light from the air itself. Duncan could not stand. He now understood that all his effort was for naught. He could not stop the witch everything was futile. It had already ended all those years ago. He had already failed. All was lost.

Sketch of the Week 3

Here is an early edit of a much larger piece that I will have finished by next week. But since this is the sketch of the week I had to include a color version and the original. I hope you enjoy.

Bleakman's Bog Pt. 7

I don't want to over excite anyone, but I nearly crapped my pants with excitement as I wrote this entry. Everything is coming together. I hope you all are enjoying the experience as much as I am.

Part 1.
Part 2.
Part 3.
Part 4.
Part 5.
Part 6.
And now prepare for the shocking Part 7.

The witch had finally collected enough power. It had been so long she waited. It had been so long that she clawed at the last remaining sliver of life in her cracked leather skin. Finally she would have justice, finally she would have her Thomas back. Standing over the tomb she put more and more of herself into the blood spells. Into the magic of Vengeance. The air crackled with energy. If all in the bog was death this room was life itself. Even the worn flesh of Anne looked new in this room, but the magic was not for Anne. Nor was it for the witch it was for Thomas Bleakman.



Her name was once Olga Bleakman, wife to Thomas Bleakman. Thomas was a good man or at least he had been to her. But the towns people didn't trust his magics. Sure he had doubled their crops and made wounds heal nearly instantly. However, none of that mattered when a young child disappeared. It was the warlock's fault. It had to have been. Only someone who consorts with the powers beyond could take a child. So, when they arrived at the door in numbers with torches and weapons it was not a surprise.
Thomas was kind and let the villagers in.
“Search all you want I did not take the child.” Was all he said. Yet, his eyes told Olga that he knew his death was near. She saw the fear and grew more fearful in the knowing.
That was all well and good until they found some lace from the dress the girl was last seen wearing. Thomas and Olga knew one of the villagers had planted it, but it didn't matter their pleas were ignored. Thomas was tackled to the ground angry hands tearing his clothes off. A rope was brought in the house . A noose was made and thrown over the man Olga loved. Olga screamed and she fought but the men held her back. The whole while Thomas Bleakman refused to raise a finger against any of them. A noose was tightened around his neck. Some even tore at Olga's clothes. A slap came from outside a horse whinnied. Other men began to roughly touch Olga. The rope went taught and the snapping sound of bone and sinew came from Thomas' neck. Olga had been beautiful back then. Some of the men hardly noticed the lifeless body torn from the house as they took up positions around her.
Olga's husband was dragged through the front gate and out of sight. All the while a dark eyed man grinned maliciously at her now naked body. The man and a few others stayed behind and prepared a slew of evil thoughts. While many rode away in shame, but never stopped to offer the witch any aid.
Olga survived somehow. Bloody and battered she clung to life as she hung on the precipice of death. Clawing at the edges she lifted herself inch by inch, fueled by rage she raised herself. She screamed in defiance at the ever looming black pit of despair that marked death and meant her vengeance would not be fulfilled. As she sucked life back into herself the earth around the cottage became cursed. The trees died and became shriveled husks, grass turned brown and sunk to the earth. Putrid waters rose and ate away roads and flowers. And Bleakman's bog was born in Olga's oath of vengeance.