Naughty Puppies Get Hurt

            

 

            Sam was a beautiful girl. Playing was pretty much all she ever did. Sam’s best friend was her puppy, Rocko. They had so much fun when they played together. Sam’s favorite game to play with Rocko was hide-and-seek. Rocko always seemed to sniff Sam out.

            Sam was definitely a daddy’s girl. She loved her daddy a whole bunch. They had so much fun laughing, singing, and wrestling together. Daddy always took Sam to the movies. They even went fishing together a lot.

            Sam and her mommy had a whole bunch of fun, too. Sam’s mommy always did girly things with her. They did their hair and nails together all of the time. Mommy took Sam shopping to pick out her own clothes. That was Sam’s favorite. Sam wanted to be just like her mommy.

            Sam and Rocko played together the most, though. Sam would follow Rocko around all day. She loved her puppy just as much as she loved her parents. Sam loved having a puppy for her best friend. They did everything together.

When Sam would get lonely, she would pretend to be a puppy. She had so much fun being a puppy. She could bark, crawl around on all fours, and play fetch. She was a regular pooch. Sam even tried eating some of Rocko’s puppy snacks a few times. They didn’t taste very good.

Sometimes, Sam’s parents didn’t like her acting like a puppy. Daddy was always saying, “You don’t listen very good when you act like a puppy, Sam.” Daddy was probably right, but Sam’s favorite games to play were puppy games.

What was the big deal? Sure, Daddy wanted Sam to bark a little quieter. It was hard for Sam to play like a puppy and be quiet. Especially when she was busy howling at the moon. It was also hard to be a quiet puppy when Sam was barking at Rocko. Sam was probably a little too loud, sometimes.

Daddy didn’t like it when Sam would chew on his slippers, either. He would always yell, “That’s yucky, Sam!” At least Sam’s dad didn’t chase her around with his slipper when he caught her slobbering on it, like he did Rocko. Sam puppy was always getting in trouble.

Mommy was always telling Sam not to jump around when she was a puppy. Well, jumping was just something puppies had to do. Rocko got treats for jumping up and down. Mommy said, “Sam, you need to sit on your butt on the couch, or you might fall.” Puppies don’t sit on their butt, though.

Sam was being a puppy one day, and she accidentally fell off of her bed. “Ouchie!” cried Sam. “Mommy I think I hurt my arm.” It hurt Sam so badly. Mommy came running to help Sam, but she wasn’t very happy. Mommy looked quite mad.

“I told you not to jump around like a puppy, Sam. We don’t like it when you act like a puppy,” scolded Mommy. “I just knew you were going to get hurt one of these days.” Mommy was very upset. When Sam’s mom was upset, Sam was upset. They were both crying.

Sam and her mommy got in the car and drove to the hospital. Sam was very scared, and her arm was hurting a lot. Sam overheard her mom call her dad, and she told him that Sam may have broken her arm. Sam started sobbing in the back seat. She felt awful for not listening to her mom and dad.

Mommy looked back and said, “What’s the matter sweetheart?” It wasn’t her hurt arm that had Sam so upset. It was that she had let her parents down. Sam knew that acting like a puppy wasn’t a good game, after all.

“Mommy, will I ever be able to use my arm again?” Sam asked. She was scared that her arm would be broken forever. Sam couldn’t be a puppy anymore if she only had one arm left. Sam had never been so upset, and she could not stop crying.

“Honey, your arm will be just fine. It may not even be broke. We just have to go to the doctor’s office to see if it is,” Sam’s mommy said softly. She always made Sam feel better. Just hearing her mom tell her everything was going to be fine brought a smile to Sam’s face.

“Will I still be able to pretend like I’m a puppy?” Sam asked. “It would be terrible if I couldn’t play with Rocko.” The genuine worry in Sam’s eyes made her mother chuckle.

“Of course, you can still play like a puppy. But, you need to listen to Mommy and Daddy when we tell you to be careful. Puppies that don’t listen get hurt,” said Sam’s mom. That was such a relief for Sam to hear that she could still play with her best friend, Rocko.

Sam and her mom went to the doctor’s office. They put a bright pink cast on Sam’s arm. It was pretty, but Sam still wish she had never broke her arm. It hurt so much. Being a puppy was fun, but only as long as she listened to her mom and dad. Getting hurt isn’t worth being a naughty puppy.

           

The People Must Eat

An excerpt of

Chapter 1 – The People Must Eat

From the manuscript, "Morningstar"

            Riley Morningstar hurried along the busy streets of the port town, Chivalice. Of course, she was running late. She almost always forgot to turn the curtain over before she went to bed. It was very hard for the girl to wake up when her room was still pitch black. In fact, it was all but impossible. She always seemed managed to get on the dock boss’ bad side. Today was the third time Riley was running late for work this week, and her boss was sure to give her fits about this one. He’s even threatened to fire Riley if she was ever late again. 

            Riley was a gorgeous young lady. Her crimson hair hung at her shoulders, even though it was being held back with a cord in a ponytail. It shone brilliantly in the morning sun. Riley’s eyes were as green as the greenest emerald, and her milk-like complexion brought out the best of them. She had a beautiful face; her lips, and eyes, had made her the recipient of many compliments. Riley’s curves were the perfect match to her beauty. Her thighs and hips turned  many men’s heads. Riley wasn’t the biggest of girls up top, but she made up for it everywhere else. Riley’s abdominal, and arm muscles were finely tuned thanks to being a fisherman. Riley was well known across Chivalice for her good looks.  

The truth is Riley hated fishing. Why couldn’t have her father, Visto, insisted she be sent away to the university with her friends? It was unjust that she was to be held back for no better reason than her father just could not bear to see her leave. It’s not that she wasn’t intelligent; Riley was the favorite pupil of most of her school teachers. Her father’s own selfishness was what held her here in this stench-filled gutter called a town. Ever since her mother had passed away, her father had been acting odd. After all, he did let her older sister Isabel leave to the university. Riley just couldn’t understand why she was the one who had to stay. It was so unfair that it infuriated her to think about it. She loved her father dearly, but there was contempt building for the way he acted like she was a child. So Riley fished.

 Ducking and dodging people, Riley weaved her way through the gawking masses down to the docks. Chivalice was a busy town, to say the least. Narrow streets were packed to the brim with hawkers and peddlers. Mothers dragged their children along from street vendor to street vendor hustling through the town market. The buildings were tall; some had three or four levels, and all were packed to capacity with residents. Although the town’s buildings were large and plentiful, Chivalice was quite a poor town. Their sole export was fish, and even Chivalians grew tired of the taste of fish. Families lived in houses of ten or more, and their homes were seldom more than just one room in one of the city’s large buildings. Chivalice was renowned for its poverty, and for its abundance of people. Most other countries considered Chivalice a country of lawless thieves, who were good for nothing more than spreading fish around the world. The town was a large hill with many small circular streets. All of the streets circled down the long hill toward the docks, and most curled back around and up the hill. The main avenues were cobbled stone, and the side streets were little more than packed clay. The small side streets connected each avenue to the next, and it almost looked as if the town of Chivalice was a giant spider web cast over a large hill.

Riley saw plenty of children without parents running around as well. Groups of twenty or more kids ran the streets, and no local made the mistake of thinking the kids were harmless. Grungy kids, with rags for clothes, and greasy hair dominated the side streets down by the docks. Sweat ran down their faces leaving a trail of cleanliness behind a mask of dirt that looked most cynical on those small, grinning faces. Some of them had decent shoes on their feet, but usually only because some poor sap had left them unguarded. 

When both of a child’s parents were fishermen, then sometimes that child would be left an orphan. It was a dangerous job. Only, there were no orphanages in Chivalice. These groups of children recruited new young orphaned children, and when joined together these kids were a formidable force to be reckoned with. They called themselves grunts, and were widely considered their own guild in Chivalice. The only difference being, the guilds actually paid their taxes. It was really sad that these children knew no better of how to live. They made due on what little they could grab from purses, and what food they could snatch out of the town market. Riley had always considered herself an outcast, but seeing the grunts was always a reassurance. 

“Mornin’ Riley! Looks like you’re running late again. You better just give it up, Skylar told us that if you were late one more time, he was going to send you home and let one of us have your job. Said, least he always knew where to find us.” The leader of this particular group of grunts was Ruben, and he was the only one of his group that talked amongst anyone but themselves. Riley had always thought they were actually quite creepy little children. The others just fixed their eyes on Riley, watching her every move.

“Don’t start with me Ruben. I’m not in the mood for your pestering me already. It would probably do you some good to get a real job, anyway. You bunch of sea lice. At least then you’d pay back your debt to society,” Riley said, scolding the young ruffian.

“If I had a job, I wouldn’t be able to take care of my kids,” Ruben exclaimed with his chest puffed out. He did look rather ridiculous. Ruben was a tall boy of about ten years. His cut off jeans were ragged and came down just below his knees. He was wearing a dingy red vest, and a sailor’s cap that looked like he had picked it out of the garbage and placed it on his head. “Besides, I thought I told you not to worry about us. We can take care of ourselves just fine.”

“Ruben, you’re not even wearing any shoes,” Riley said with a chuckle. With that, the whole group of kids was laughing hysterically. It was good they found a sense of humor in their situation. No one else did.

“Never mind that, Riley. When are we going to go to old man Irving’s swamp and catching some frogs together? You promised us,” said Ruben. It made Riley’s heart melt seeing the genuine dissatisfaction on young Ruben’s face. It was cute that a boy as ruthless as Ruben was known to be could also be so free spirited. Riley could tell that he badly wanted to be a normal boy, and have a normal family. He was such a good heart to have to grow up in this lifestyle.

“Well, first I need to worry about getting to work. I need my job, Ruben. I might just end up running with you grunts anyway.” With that, Riley was headed off down to the docks.

Dreamer (Flash-fiction)

A piece that I wrote, inspired by Chuck Wendig's blog, "Terrible Minds". Flash-fiction, 230 words.           

 Dreamer

             Waking up in the morning is bullshit. The alarm blaring in my ear every goddamn day. It has to be causing some sort of long-term psychological damage. A mindless drone. Every time the clock flashes 5:30, my mind screams in agony. Why must you take me away from my dreams?

            The alarm is least of my worries. Every day is more boring than the last; just stare at the cubicle wall. No time for love. No love to be found. Shame and sorrow tremble on the fault line of agony. I don’t know how much longer I can last in the circumstance. Corporate is oblivious to my wants, and needs. My mind is consumed by shameless white screens.

            “Ahhhrrgghhh!” I release in a guttural roar. The walls are crashing down in an explosion of angst. Walls are the recipient; my rage the ballista. The oil change can wait, and fuck the cable company. Bloodying my hands on the wall just isn’t enough. Life has become a routine. I’m a bust.

            I never had a reason for the gun. Zombie apocalypse, perhaps. Haven’t hunted in years; thanks to my asshole dad. My family left me years ago. I guess the future is inevitable.  

            “Relax,” I say to myself out loud. Then I pulled the trigger, and my world crashed down. 

            I woke up at my desk to my phone ringing.

            

Prologue - Cooked

Excerpt from the manuscript "Cooked"

Cooking wasn’t just a job for Jason Miller; it’s a lifestyle. Jason loved everything about it. He loved the pub he cooked at. He loved the free drinks after a long shift. The girls were all a ton of fun. Jason’s coworkers were close friends, and they partied almost every weekend. Sure, he may not make much money, but all he really cared about was that he had enough to get by. Jason loved his life in every aspect of it. Being a cook was the shit.

            Every day Jason had the same routine. He would wake up, and before he was even out of bed he would spark up a cigarette. There was no better way to start the day off for him. While Jason smoked his first cigarette, he made a pot of coffee. Then he took his medication; which included medical marijuana. Jason loved wake and bake. It was Jason’s favorite time of day. After his morning ritual, Jason showered and got ready. He loved his routine. Jason loved the way his life was going for him. It was always fun. Jason pretty much did what he wanted.

            Jupiter Hills was a small town. Everyone knew everyone. The schools sucked. The people sucked, too. It wasn’t really the kind of place Jason wanted to be, but what could he do? It sure wasn’t his fault his parents decided to settle down in bum fucking Egypt. Jupiter Hills was like a black hole to Jason. No matter where he went, and what he tried to do with his life, he just came back home. Jupiter Hills just kept sucking Jason back in.

Jason’s dad was a prison guard at Jupiter Hills Penitentiary. Perhaps that had something to do with why he was always such a prick to Jason. His dad was always saying, “My job is the most stressful job in the country.” Bullshit. Jason’s dad never changed diapers for a living, did dishes, or waited tables for terrible tips. Jason could think of about a thousand different shitty jobs that were just as stressful as being a corrections officer, or more. Jason and his father didn’t get along much.

Jason’s mom was a professional medical marijuana caregiver; and a sweet one, at that. She was Jason’s caregiver. More so, she was Jason’s best friend. He was always close to his mother; partly because his father was always such an asshole, and partly because she treated Jason like her friend. It was never awkward between Jason and his mother. She was always there when Jason needed her. That was why it was hard for Jason to leave Jupiter Hills. Jason was a mommy’s boy.

            Jason was a cook at the Shamrock Pub. They had the best food, the best booze, and the best atmosphere in town. His boss was a bad-ass, too. Jason couldn’t even imagine working for someone else. Steve Phillips wasn’t the ordinary restaurant owner. He lived, ate, and breathed the pub. Jason had a lot of shitty cooking jobs in his day, and no one treated his employees as good as Steve did. Jason was making well over minimum wage. He got a vacation. The best part of all was that he always had a job. There were several times where Jason should have been fired, but Steve kept bringing him back. Jason loved his boss, and his job. He pretty much had it made.

            Nothing compared to life in the fast lane. That’s exactly what being a cook meant to Jason. There were the killer rushes, all the asshole customers, and shitty pay to put up with. All of it was worth being a cook to Jason. None of the bullshit that he had to put up with mattered. Those were the best days of Jason’s life, and he didn’t ever want them to end.

Desperate Farm-wife

An excerpt from the short story, "Desperate Farm-wife."

 For my mother.
      
     Abruptly, Elle was struck in the back of her head with something hard. Screaming aloud, she fell into the pool of coagulated blood.  Elle kicked and thrashed wildly, but it didn’t do her any good. All she did was cover her body even more in the disgusting liquid. Panic filled Elle. She was screamed and kicked like a boar caught in a net. All she had to do was stand up and run, but she just couldn’t get back up. Every time she tried, Elle fell back down; she was a drunken imbecile. Then she finally got a glimpse of her attacker.

      It was indeed Elle’s dead husband. Animate in the fact that his parts were moving, but the lurching motions he moved with proved that his existence was not natural. His body parts had been dissembled, and there was no way of telling how they were being held together. It was a sick puppet show. Arms and legs flailed wildly as the walking corpse walked. His glazed eyes and face were absolutely expressionless. His head was completely detached at the shoulders, but hung limply to one side. This had to be some sort of nightmare, because what Elle was seeing was surely impossible.

      Elle screamed as loud as she could; she really didn’t care who heard her. She only cared that someone would come save her. Elle was frozen with fear as the zombie of a man approached. She could hear faint breathing behind her, but she had no idea what it was. Elle was far to petrified by the sight of her reanimated husband to look and see what approached. Seconds passed that felt like hours, and then everything happened faster than Elle could comprehend.

     

Sickening

      The sun was beginning to rise over the bleak expanse of desert. The small pool of water that Damien had found the night before would soon evaporate. Cacti could not support the man for much longer; he had already been lost in this wasteland for two days, or longer. Damien grabbed his hat, which he had fashioned from an old newspaper blowing in the wind, and placed it on his head. He filled his belly with water from the shallow pool and soaked his button up shirt in the cool liquid. He would have to find relief soon, or he would die within a few hours.

      It was his fault; most everything was. He just did not know when to stop gambling. The fight scene was growing in Las Vegas, and there was plenty of money to be made. There was also plenty of money to be lost. Damien was twenty-five grand in debt with the Suarez brothers. It was a small wonder they had even let him live, but wandering through the nothingness of sand and heat was better than dying. He had to find help eventually.

       Damien pushed on through the desert, cursing his god as he trudged through the ankle deep sand. There was no way for him to stop sobbing, and he even thought himself that he sounded like a fool. The sun was a quarter of the way over the horizon now, and Damien’s whole body was on the brink of collapsing. His body moved in lurches and stumbles. He was doomed to wander the desert like a brainless zombie. Damien’s throat was well beyond parched to a point that it felt like dust. His tongue felt like a sandpaper covered rock; it felt foreign to his mouth. The man had actually contemplated cutting it off. Damien just figured it would help him to breathe easier, but he really had no means to do it.

      Suddenly, Damien could hear the sound of water. The noise of a flowing stream filled his head, and it was pure rapture. Damien was drunk in the sound of life. Bliss filled Damien as he giggled with excitement. He just might make it out of the desert alive, after all. With a new pep to his step, Damien continued over the next sandy hill.

      There it was; the most beautiful thing Damien had ever seen in his god forsaken life. A tiny, gentle stream was gurgling its way through the sun baked sand. The edge of the stream was dry and crackled, but the center harvested gorgeous sparkling water. Saliva sprang to life in Damien’s mouth at the site of the water, and for a moment he didn’t even think he could get there fast enough. Stumbling through the deep sand, Damien reached the stream within a few minutes.  

      When he did get there, Damien gorged himself on the life-saving stream. There was no describing the feeling of water touching his tongue. It did little do repair his damaged throat, but the feeling of cool water rushing over his wounds was heavenly. Damien’s tongue soaked up the water like a deprived sponge. The water tasted like blood.

      Something strange started happening to Damien moments after he had finished filling his belly with the pleasant stream. He started to feel sick, and his vision was blurred. His whole head felt fuzzy. What was happening to him? Abruptly, Damien doubled over and vomited out all the water he had consumed. It was a terrible feeling for Damien, and he was left heaving in the fetal position. Blood specked the water that he sprawled over the rocky ground. It was torture. His belly ached from the heaving, and the dizziness he’d felt walking through the desert had increased tenfold. Damien was doubled over on the ground, and the heat of the sand was burning his expose skin. Damien continued vomiting blood profusely as he slowly died. He had consumed too much water at one time, and essentially drowned himself in his salvation. One final though crossed Damien’s mind as he died; at least those stupid motherfucking Suarez brothers won’t get another dime out of me.

Neighbors...

     The incessant pounding was driving him crazy! Banging on the walls, and slamming the door all day long. Laughing all the while they drove him insane. These people had it out for him, he knew it. They just wanted to make Adam mad. There was nothing he could do to keep his rage held back any longer. Adam’s neighbors had waked him repeatedly in the past, and tonight was the night he put an end to their disrespect. Something had to be done about it. No one understood that he needed his quiet. Those bastards had ruined his atmosphere!
      Adam wasn’t crazy; not any crazier than the average Joe. True, he did lose his temper sometimes. Who didn’t? How many people out there, in this sadistic world, actually did keep their tempers at bay? Everyone loses their head, once in a while, he thought. Besides, it pissed him off so bad when his neighbors slammed the damn door all day! No, there was nothing wrong with Adam. He just loses his temper every once in a while. Adam especially lost his head when those disrespectful teens next door banged on the walls all day, and all night. He was especially irate that they had ruined his atmosphere.

      Adam didn’t plan on hurting anyone. He liked most people. The only thing he didn’t like about his neighbors was that they wake him in the night. That’s all! Other than that, they are good kids. No, Adam did not want to hurt anyone. He just thought maybe he’d ask them to stop. Slowly, he made his way over to the apartment door. Just before Adam reached it, there was a loud bang on the wall, and it made him jump a little. Fool, he thought. I should be expecting the bangs by now. The fact that he wasn’t, just made Adam even angrier.

      He reached the door, and by now Adam had steam rolling out of his ears. His face was bright red, and the veins at his temples protruded outward violently. Ripping open the door, Adam stomped out of his apartment towards the perpetrators. He was furious at those invalids; his heart was beating rapidly, and sweat was rolling off his balding head. Adam wasn’t crazy. Crazy people hurt other people, and Adam would never hurt anyone. All he wanted was his quaint atmosphere back. 

      Adam reached his neighbors door, but paused for a minute before knocking. He heard what sounded like a group of young girls laughing, and carrying on about whom is going on the next beer run. What could they be doing to make that much racket? It was well beyond irritating. Suddenly, the door rushed open, and there stood the group of young women. The girls were clearly startled by Adam’s sudden appearance, and their shock just added to Adam’s rage.  

      “What do you want, weirdo?” asked a small girl with short brown hair. Her skin had a milky complexion, and looked smooth to the touch. For a brief moment, Adam was thinking about how it would feel running his hand over her curves. Then his anger came rushing back to him in a tsunami of angst.

      “I want my atmosphere back,” Adam barely managed to get the words out of his throat. He was so angry the words curdled in the back of his throat before they ever reached his tongue, and his words came out in a stutter.

      “What the fuck is wrong with you, creep?!” said another young lady with long red hair, and a slightly ugly, pimpled face. She started to shut the door in his face, but Adam caught it with an outstretched arm before it shut fully. 

      “I want you to be quieter!” Adam was really struggling to get the words out of his mouth now. These kids just didn’t understand Adam, and it was frustrating him badly.

      “Help!” screamed one of the young girls, and then all hell broke loose. One of the teens, the ugly redhead, tried making a break for the door, but Adam caught her. Throwing the girl across the room, Adam started howling, “I did not want to hurt you! You made me so angry!”

      The girls were all screaming now, and it was driving Adam insane. He slammed the door shut behind him as he stormed towards the girls. There was no stopping Adam now; the fools would learn just how upset they had made him. The scene was complete pandemonium as the girls all struggled to get away from Adam. Nothing made him angrier than seeing these brats screaming, and crying at him like he was the bad guy! They were the ones that had ruined his atmosphere.

      A small blonde girl came running at Adam with a knife, from the kitchen, but Adam saw her coming the whole way and quickly had her knife hand neutralized. Grabbing her by the wrist, he swiftly kicked the girl in the side of the knee, and her bone made a sickening pop. She crumpled in pain, and screamed in agony as Adam started beating her in the face. Why wouldn’t she shut up? He pounded with fists and elbows until the girl was not screaming anymore. She was completely still; Adam had taken her life. The girl’s face was a bloody mess, and hardly recognizable. In fact, he could have sworn the young blonde had been born a redhead. 

      “You killed her, you fucking freak!” the natural redhead screamed at the top of her lungs. The girl sounded ridiculous. Did she really think she could confront Adam? He wasn’t planning on letting the girl live, especially since she had called him a freak. Adam wondered what color her hair would turn when her face was soaked in blood.

      Charging at her with the knife in hand, Adam speared her to the ground with ease. The girl was tough, but Adam was a brute. He easily overpowered the small woman. She really had no chance against the monster that Adam had become. Adam stuck the knife in her belly, and smiled as his hand was warmed by her blood.

      Slowly bringing the blade up her sternum, Adam spoke to the girl, “You should be more respectful in your next life.” He was really starting to enjoy this. Reaching in the gaping hole that he had created in her belly, Adam pulled out the girls entrails and wrapped them tightly around her neck. She kicked weakly, but it did no good at all. No one would know how the girl died, either from blood loss, or asphyxiation. At least, not until there was an autopsy.

     Adam rose slowly from his work, and it brought a grin to his face. The destruction that he had caused was so beautiful. It was like looking at a painting that he had worked hard to create. Adam was proud of the pain he had caused the young woman, and even more proud at the creativity he felt when taking her life. For a brief moment, Adam was god.

     Turning towards the last young lady, Adam winced a bit. “I told you, I didn’t want to hurt you,” Adam said in a small voice that wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I just wanted it quiet.”

     “I’m sorry! So, so, so sorry,” the young lady stammered. “I didn’t mean to do anything, I swear. I swear I won’t do it again, I promise.”  

      Slowly, the blood soaked beast, Adam, made his way over to the teen. She really was beautiful. Her blue eyes shimmered in the overhead fluorescent lights. Her supple breast rose and fell dramatically with her gasping breaths. Adam knew he could not let her live, but he did contemplate it. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all a beautiful young lady. Adam glanced around at the grizzly scene, and then he let his eyes settle back on the woman sobbing in the corner. He started shaking his head, and then he struck. One single blow with the knife to the young woman’s temple was all it took. He stuck the blade in, up to its handle, and he left it there. 

      Adam got up, gingerly, and made his way back to the door. There was no crying, no screaming, no banging on the walls, or any slamming of the door. It was silent. Peaceful at last, Adam would have the atmosphere he needed. He approached the door, stepping over the redhead that lay sprawled in her own blood. Grasping the handle with a bloody hand, he pulled the apartment door open. For the first time in a while, Adam felt alive. Really, felt alive. Adrenaline coursed through his blood.

      Suddenly a hole opened in the side of Adam’s face. Blood splattered the wall, as the sound of a gunshot rang out throughout the halls. Adam’s jaw unhinged, and a good portion of his face slid down the open apartment door. Adam crumpled into a pool of his own blood, as the apartment security guard ran past him into the blood soaked abode. That bastard had figured Adam out. Ringing filled Adam’s ears, and he slowly lost his consciousness. Adam would not have the quiet atmosphere that he desired, after all.

Prologue: A Vision Revealed

     The winds were volatile on Snowspire Mountain, and they were so cold that they were blistering Silas’ ears and nose. His head was wrapped tight with wool, but it did little to defend the cold, damaging winds. His body was wrapped in animal hides with a very large hooded cloak, made from a huge bear, over his shoulders. The bear’s mouth was open in an eternal scream, and Silas’ wool wrapped face could barely be seen poking through the bear-head turned hood. Onward, he pushed up the icy slopes of the ancient landmark; shoulders hunched over trying to keep his leverage. A fall from this altitude would mean death for certain, and death was something that Silas wanted to save for another day. Giant spoon-shaped shoes, made out of bamboo, were strapped to his boots helping him to stay on top on the drifting snow, but regardless of his efforts he still sunk to his knees. Occasionally, he was forced to take his butaskis, which was what the old man who sold them to Silas had called them anyway, off so that he could catch a better footing. Higher still he climbed; there would be no rest until this journey was over. His body ached, and his soul was worn ragged from his journey. The trek had taken its toll on Silas; several times he had pondered retreating down the steep rocky expanse of the mountain. He could not back down now. It was far too late.

      The man was immensely proud, and he would not let a mountain become the best of him. Silas had lived through much worse. He chuckled a little, remembering a saying that his grandfather had made stick; “Life’s hard edge is ever-sharpening the blade of your mind.” Silas could remember no truer words. Although his pride was enough to outshine any man’s, his duty was what had brought him this far. No, he would not back down. Silas knew what he had to do. Friends had abandoned Silas when he had asked them to come with him; his family was gone, save his wife. There was not a soul left by his side. There was no deity looking over his shoulder. The fools would pay for their insolence. Silas would be sure of it.

     After what seemed like hours of trudging through knee deep snow and meandering up the rocky slope, Silas had finally found what he had come all this way for. A small opening in the side of the mountain came into his view through the blowing snow, and so Silas pushed ever harder towards his goal. He threw his pack up into the small crevice, and then hoisted himself up with a grunt. For the first time all day Silas was protected from the bitter cold winds whipping around him. It felt great to be out of the icy winds, but there was no time for rest. Still his hands ached, and his face burned. Pulling the bear-head hood down behind his head, Silas slowly began to crawl deeper into the cave.

     Silas knew what he was going to find in the small cave at the top of Snowspire Mountain, but seeing with his own eyes what his vision had portrayed was something else entirely. Seeing it made Silas’ heart sink down to the pit of his gut. A mother, recently taken by the cold touch of death, was still clutching her newborn babe to her breast. The baby was still alive, and howling a terrible cry that matched the shrieking pitches of the gushing winds. Silas looked all himself cautiously and made his way over to the howling child; there was almost no way of telling what had taken this young mother’s life. Slowly and cautiously, he crept closer until he could see the newborn babe. It was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful thing Silas had ever seen in his life. The horror of the scene made Silas shed a single tear, but there was no time for crying now. This gorgeous child needed help. And so Silas replaced his sorrow with fury; oh how would he make those fools pay for leaving Silas alone to rescue this child. Anger overtook him. 

      The babe’s soft red hair glistened in the dimly lit cave; it shimmered like a copper penny tossed into a shallow pool of water.  Although the child was tiny, it was also fully aware of Silas’ presence. The terrible wailing of the child slowed to a soft whimper, and the newborn finally started to calm down. Silas removed the long strips of wool that he had wound around his hands to try to protect them from the cold. Putting both of his hands cupped to his mouth he breathed out heavily, trying to warm his frozen appendages so that the infant would not be startled by his cold touch. Slowly, Silas removed the dead mother’s arms from around her child. Luckily, she had not been gone long, and so her arms still moved fairly easily. Carefully, he removed the tiny babe from its mother’s arms, and he held the child to his own breast; Silas gently cooed in its ear trying to help calm its nerves.

      “Be still my child, your safe with me,” Silas cooed softly to the infant. A funny thought occurred to Silas; what would my wife give to see this right now? The baby looked up at Silas, and he could have sworn he saw relief quickly brush the infant’s face. Their journey down the mountain would not be easy. It took everything Silas had to get here, but it really was just the beginning of their journey. He had to get this child to safety. Unfortunately, their journey wouldn't be over for quite some time yet.