"Resurrection"

After some careful consideration, I've decided to give this whole "creative outlet" a go again. I'm not entirely sure what brought this about, but I shall take this and run with it. Lets just see what kind of stream-of-consciousness I can come up with at 1am on a Wednesday.

I have been reading and watching alot of stories about Zombies in the past several months. I figured it was time for my own little take on the entire genre, maybe with a twist?

Resurrection

Its the twelfth of August, and I feel as though I have been awake for months. I have not rested since the accident.

I can no longer remember the last time that I had a meal, especially one that satisfied my appetite. Did I even eat today?

When was the last time that I saw another person? Where was I going when the world ceased to exist around me for those few moments?

The only thing I remember was waking up on the pavement with the world scattered and covered in a sea of pain and misery. Glass and metal surrounded my outstretched body. Was I driving a car?

No one else was there. No one saw what happened. No one can help me.

The longer I walk the more alone I feel. I have been following a path set out before me. A thin grey line is draped across the world and I am destined to follow it.

Day after day I wander, trying to find the end to the line that God has provided for me.

Every day I try to imagine what is at the end of the path. Is it a warm meal? A hug from the woman I love?

Death would be a warm welcome from what I have endured. The countless animals I have attempted to use to survive on my journey.

Ahead of me the woods are changing and appear to be thinning out. The path has taken me to the beginning of a road, a paved road. Have I found salvation? Have I found the end to my journey?

As I cross through the brush, I can feel a change in the air. My sense of urgency has been replaced by caution and excitement.

I find myself concentrating on the sounds around me. I hear nothing.

The wind does not rustle the leaves in the trees, I can no longer feel the warmth of the air as it moves across my skin.

Looking around I begin to notice that the road does not feel as welcoming as I had hoped. There are no painted lines on this road, the houses do not appear to be in the best of shape anymore as if their best years were well behind them.

Across from me a family is out playing in their yard. Little Johnny notices me standing on the side of the road and points towards me. A ball rolls across the lawn in front of him, Johnny has forgotten all about the game of catch he was playing. A child does not easily forget about a game.

I try to force a smile across my dry, tired lips.

The mother looks up to see what little Jimmy is mesmerized about. Her eyes lock onto mine, I can see the look of shocked horror run across her face.

I see the pupils of her eyes dilating. I see the colour rushing towards her cheeks. I can see the muscles in her throat tighten as she is ready to say something.

She opens her mouth.

In the split second before she lets the world know of my presence, I begin to realize that something is not right. I should have not come through the woods. I was not meant to find this place.

Did I wander into a secret government location that no one was ever supposed to find?

My attention focuses back on the mother who shrieks in horror.

As the world around her freezes in reaction to what she has just done, I begin to take notice of what she might be afraid of.

The rest of the family begins to turn their head towards me. Under normal circumstances I would begin to feel shame for causing such a commotion, but today is different. I want them to notice me, I want them to be scared of me. The thrill excites me.

I look down to inspect my appearance before introducing myself to the family. The first thing I noticed was that the left side of my pants was torn from the knee down. And my leg was covered in dry blood.

A rock appears to be embedded in my leg, likely from the accident. Reaching down toward the rock I notice that the shape of it appears to be more uniform than what would be the normal shape of a rock. I run my finger over top of the rock and flick it towards to ground to remove it.

The rock stays firmly planted in my leg without any indication that it will be easily removed. I grasp the rock firmly between my fingers and pull. After I've pulled the rock out more I suddenly realize that it is not what I thought.

I let go and wonder to myself how it was possible for me to walk as long as I did with my shin sticking out through the front of my leg without feeling any pain.

The mother screams again, bringing me back to reality and the situation that I am currently in.

By the time the scream has finished for a second time, the hunger returns.

My nose picks up a delicious aroma coming from their lawn. Coming from their house.

Its been so long since I've eaten that I have no choice but to see if they will offer me food.

I begin to walk across the street. As I get closer, the smell is more attractive, making me crave it even more.

The family is still standing on their lawn as I reach the other side of the road, they are unable to move. Frozen in place by the sheer shock of seeing me approach in my current state.

As I the journey across their lawn, my entire thought process is destroyed by the need to eat.

Little Johnny is still standing behind is ball as I walk by and push him out of my way towards the delicious aroma. I approach the mother, who still has the scream frozen on her face.

I put my hands out in front of me, to which I will notice later are missing fingers and are horribly discoloured.

Wrapping my fingers around her shoulders was enough of a signal to awaken her from her daze and begin struggling. But by then it is too late.

My face is already buried in her neck feeling the warmth of her body against me as I taste her flesh for the first time.



Now that I've written that it seems to be darker than I had originally intended. Then again, its hard to write a happy Zombie story. When was the last time that a story was told from the point of view of a Zombie?

Polaris Music Prize

There is a music prize in canada called the Polaris Prize. Which is similar in content to that of the Mercury Prize that is in the UK, as well as a similar one in the US.

It celebrates the best album of the year created by a Canadian band. There is a short list of 10 albums which are then voted on by a panel of judges and a winner is announced. The ceremony was last night.

This year Hey Rosetta!, Joel Plaskett, Metric were all nominated among some other bands who've been nominated other years.

A hardcore punk band won last night, they are called Fucked Up. Their album is a wonderful piece of work and it should be celebrated for what it is. That is an album wonderfully crafted which blurs the lines between rock and punk, while still keeping the fundamental aspects of both genres in place.

The news broke, to myself, this morning on the CBC website. The CBC is a federally funded organization which blankets the whole country in unbiased and fairly accurate news and information.  I spent the rest of the morning reading the scathing reviews that people would post on the news article telling everyone how much they hated the band. A good 75% of the posts openly admitted to not having heard their music before, but still put in their two cents on how the sound of the band matched that of the sound of their album. Its ridiculous to think that someone can be so opinated about something they know nothing about.

Getting back to the album, I have listened to the album and it honestly took me a couple of plays to get into the groove of the sound. It is one of their better and cohesive works that they've released in the past 7 or 8 years and quite frankly they deserve the recognition in their own country.

Their album "Chemistry of Common Life" is routinely found in the top 20 of most critics. It rates higher than all of the other albums that were also short listed.  I can't comment on most of the other performers on the list as I have not heard most of their work but I'm still shocked and in disbelief that someone could be so ignorant to base an opinion on nothing other than a name.

I guess the band is right, its all "Fucked Up".

"Shimmer"

The following is based on a cabin that I see on the highway while driving too and from my favourite weekend vacation destination. It is not based on any type of real event and can not really be considered to be anywhere close to the truth. Also, its a rough draft completed in one sitting, I can not guarantee that the grammar will be 100% accurate and correct, I apologize for this.


You can see it from the highway most times.

If you're quick enough you can see a shimmer out of the corner of your eye, but if you don't you'll never see it.

There is it sitting on a small hill, tucked back into the woods. See it now? That glint seems to be floating, hovering taking only a small bit of time and space. Its a single pane of glass, seemingly floating in the middle of the woods. There are too many leaves at this time of year for it to be seen clearly.

The mind does seem to play tricks when you see it for the first time. The more you look at it the more it seems to disappear before your eyes. Fading in and out of reality, the same way an oasis does in the middle of the desert heat.

The first time that I saw it I didn't know if I could believe what my eyes had just shown to me.

Its view was so strange to me that I had to stop the car to get a second look, a closer look. Putting the car into reverse I could see a patch of grass in the rear view mirror. A faint foot path up the hill towards it is outlined in the grass, I would not be the first to venture a closer look.

Getting out of the car, I began to scan the surrounding woods, looking for signs which would keep me in my car. Footprints from a hunter or derelect who calls this place his home.

With the engine no longer producing a sound, I began to hear the sullen sounds of nature just off the highway.

Far off in the distance a lone loon could be hear calling to his mate. A few chirps from a nearby cricket could be heard as the wind rustled through the grass around my ankles.

Feeling the blades of long grass moving underneath my pants sent chills up my spine.

My gaze wandered from the edge of the road towards the top of the small hill, that I was determined to climb.

As I surveyed the landscape, a few things stood out among the tall grass just off to the right was a large rock. The positioning of the rock made it look unnaturatal, the top of the rock was flat and seemed to have a dirt ring around the top, as if it had been moved in the last few months.

I concentrated on the rock and tried to find the path in which the rock had fallen down from the hill. Halfway up the hill, about 6 feet from the rock I saw a pile of dirt. This was where the rock bounced down the hill.

A look of concern crossed my face. That rock bounced? I asked myself. Maybe thats just a hole dug by a coyote. Trying to convince myself but using happy thoughts.

The grass leading from in front of me was discoloured, a dull lifeless green. The further up the hill my gaze traveled the lighter the colour as though the life was being sucked from the grass.

Swallowing my pride, I straightened.

Taking my foot off the safety of the gravel shoulder of the highway I began my slow walk up the hill towards the glimmering light.

After a few feet, I stopped to look up the slight incline towards my target, no more that 15 steps away was the edge of the woods.

My heart began to race, I was excited to see exactly what was contained within this structure. The same one I had been looking at countless times while driving. Would there be nothing but old clothes and moldy bread from a long forgotten hunting trip or would I find a small treasure of gold coins, like they find in the movies?

A smile crept across my face at the thought of this.

I tried to keep my mind on target. Getting too easily excited about a 'treasure' could make the situation even more dangerous.

I quickly looked down at my watch, as I remembered the appointment I was driving towards before I stopped. My eyes widened.

Had it really been an hour since I stepped foot out of the car?

Once I reached the edge of the woods the view through the trees seemed to have gotten thicker as if a small fog had rolled out of the leaves. Was this a sign from the woods to keep my distance and stay way?

I was about to find out.

A gust of wind picks up from behind me, the trees rustle and shift in the late afternoon sunshine. A beam of light comes streaking through the trees as I reach my hand towards some of the overgrown brush in front of me.

The sparkle of the day startles me as I concentrate on the light shining on my hand. While lost in the glimmer of the sun, a small bug lands on my out stretched hand and begins to walk around in a small circle.

After a moment, the wind subsides and the bug flies off into the wood as the beam of light fades from my hand.

The thick brush is difficult to push through, after shoving several large bushes to one side I am finally able to pass through the most difficult section and into a small clearing.

The utter beauty of what is before me is shocking, the life of the day is shining through the trees above and providing a dazzling light show on the ground before me. Light reflects off of the trunks of trees, the dew covered blades of grass and a lone pane of glass.

Before me is the glass that has brought me to this place of tranquility and beauty.

Expecting to see a rundown shack with a broken pane of glass, I was disappointed and excited to find this in its place.

Hung from a single branch in the middle of the clearing is a piece of crystal on a string. The branch is close to 10 feet from the ground and the crystal is planted firmly at eye level to best capture the light from the sun.

As the light dances across the floor of the woods it also travels across some of the many different facets of the polished gem.

I stood at the edge of the clearing transfixed by the simplicity of what I see before me. Time seems to have stopped at that point. I am unable to hear the sounds of nature around me.

The gentle rustle of the leaves has slowly been replaced by a sound which is unlike anything I have heard ever again. The sound seemed to come from the center of the crystal and changed everytime a ray of light touched it.

The closest think that I can use to describe the sound is the gentle warble heard from the ticking of a watch underwater. There is no distinct noise, yet it was every noise.

For each passing second I was there, I began to see images form within the crystal. Images of things that have never happened and are destined to be repeated for all eternity. A faint glimpse of another world, fleeting into the past.

Children played. Bells were chiming. Cars were flying. Horses pulled tractors. The train ran on water. A fire burned only the edges. A bird died. A woman loved.

A single tear formed in the corner of my eye and ran down my cheek to the ground.

I suddenly felt very alone in the woods, I wanted to turn around to leave but I could not let my gaze leave the depth of the crystal.

As the sun began to set, the world around me started to suddenly come back into focus. The crystal was loosing its alure, my eyes started to dance around the clearing, but always returning to the crystal.

I could feel the crystal calling to me, trying to pull me closer to it.

The world around me started to move as I suddenly became aware that I was taking steps toward the center of the clearing.

I was no longer sure if I was in control of my own body.

As I got closer to the crystal I could see my own reflection within it. The face looking back at me was smiling.

My hand rose towards the crystal; as my fingers opened to grasp the crystal from the string I could see the crystal begin to pulse light from its core.

My finger touched the crystal and I the world was flooded with the most intense light I had ever experienced in my life. The light was brighter than 10 suns. I tried to close my eyes but I was unable to move.

The wind began to blow harder and stronger, I could feel things around me beginning to move.

Was it me that was moving or the world around me?

The light around me begin to lessen, I could almost make out some shapes around me. Was that a cow? Could that be a house?

My eyes darted around frantically looking for some familiar shape that I could focus on to regain my vision.

In a panic I began to walk forward to see if I could find anything.

After two steps I came to a crashing halt, as I lifted my leg to take another step my knee made contact with something metal. A faint and low thud echoed around me.

I reached out for the object and what I found before me startled me. My fingers ran across a flat smooth surface with a few ridged areas at the edges. After a moment of frantic identification the clouds in my vision were replaced by a familiar shape.

It was my car.

At some point during the blinding light, I had managed to walk back down the hill to the car.

It was no longer sunset, the sun was shining.

I raised my hand to look at my watch and noticed that was only 3pm. Standing on the side of the road I realized that it was all just a day dream and I had not gone to see what was in the woods after all.

I open the car door and got in the car. I let out a little sigh of releif as I put on my seat belt.

With the strap pressed against my chest I could feel something pressed against my skin, it was the necklace that my daughter had made for me.

Lifting it out from underneath my shirt I looked at the ornate crystal hanging from the string necklace. It was beautiful, I loved looking at it shimmer in the sunlight.

I vowed that I would never let if out of my sight.

"The Box"

The following is a work of fiction and should not be taken seriously in any manner:

The day was the 23rd of October, and I will remember it forever. It is the day that my world was flipped upside down. What makes this day so special?

This was the day that I found the dirt covered box in our backyard.

There was nothing special about this box from the first time that I saw it. It was unremarkable in every manner.

Taking the dog for a walk in the woods one day after work, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. As soon as I turned to face the object the dog could sense what I had found and began to whimper at the sight of my discovery.
   
Poking up out of the ground was a piece of metal with a small silver nail. I bent down to investigate closer, a cool breeze blew across my shoulder to reveal more of the box.

I grabbed a stick that lay on the ground near my right foot.

Was that there a few minutes ago? I ask myself.

I used the stick to chisel out the sides of the box so that I might be able to pull it out further.

A simple square wooden box, held shut with a small twig.

The twig holding it shut was something you would have found on the ground in the woods after being discarded by teenager once the leaves and small branches had been taken off. There was a small bump on either side of the lock mechanism which is why it was still closed after all these years.

I debated bringing the box in the house with me, but figured that it must belong to someone.

I left it where it was, off to the right side of the path still mostly buried in the dirt.  Hoping that by uncovering it more someone would see it and remember that it was there.

After arriving home I packed the dog in the car to take a quick drive into town to pick up a few groceries, before sitting down to do some extra work this evening.
   
When I arrived home I noticed something different, the dog did not want to leave the car. Normally, he's trying to get out the door before I've actually opened it.

Today he sits on the passenger seat and just looks at me.  Whimpering a little.

I follow his glance and notice that there is something blocking the steps leading into the house.

Initially I am unable to distinguish what I am looking at. Slowly, my eyes begin to focus on the object and I notice what is sitting on the steps.

Its the wooden box that I uncovered in the woods.

There is something about the box this time, it looks a little different almost hollow.

I slowly begin to exit the car and tell the dog to stay. I look back into the car one last time and notice the dog has hidden himself under the seat.

I begin to edge closer to the house, taking one step at at time to make sure that I keep my distance.

As I near the house I see what is different about the box. Its been opened.

The lid of the box is laying completely open and flat against the stairs behind it.

I look around the area to see if I can see any foot prints or markings of the person who might have moved it there.
   
It was shortly after this that I noticed that the twig holding the box shut is in two pieces as if it was opened from the inside.
   
I began to wonder what could have opened the box from the inside when I heard the grass rustling from behind me.

As I turn to see what is behind me, I can hear the dog barking from inside the car trying to get my attention.

I being to turn around to see what was behind me when the world went black.

There were a few fragmented sounds that I can remember hearing before everything just stopped. I remember a low humming noise that seemed to come from every direction all at once, and a tearing sound which may have been from my leg.

... from the great beyond

Without sounding too much like Britney Spears, I am back.

In a self-diluted kind of way. Don't ask me what I'm talking about because I am not really too sure either.

Shit has been crazy around these parts in the million years since I have last written anything.  But I have decided to keep this blog more anonymous than it was before keeping everything a little more abstract than I'm used to. Posts may require a few re-writes before they're approved.

(That sounded a little pretentious. And I apologize.)

I have always enjoyed writing, and speaking my mind. But I have found that keeping a running interest in something online is a little more than I can muster for my attention span (as little as it is).
   
I will attempt to bring this back to what it was intended to be. A creative forum for stories and ideas.
   
With that I give you my next entry...

New Alternatives

I love my little blog, and its title. But I've grown tired of having to update things regularly and coming up with "content" that someone might find interesting. I think I'm going to move my little spot over to Twitter and try out the micro-blogging. I'll be back from time to time, not like anyone cares to this point since I write for myself only.

I'll let you know where it is when its up.

What's wrong with the world?

Music: XP8 - Angel and the Beast

There have been a few tragic and saddened news articles floating around lateley that have really gotten to me. You know the ones where people die before its their time, or innocent by-standers that happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time while some hoodlum tries to seek "revenge" by being stupid. 

The stories themselves make me sad for the simple fact that I can't imagine what I would do if that happened to me or someone that I really cared about. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, or how to handle that situation.

Then there was this story, http://www.cbc.ca/canada/new-brunswick/story/2009/02/16/nb-oromocto-accident.html#articlecomments, an off-duty police office and his two children, both under the age of 5 die in an accident because of the weather conditions. Completely tragic.

At the bottom of the article, the site allows any one who has registered to post comments about the story. And in this case, most people were leaving stories and memories of the officer who had died. Then there are a few of the inconsiderate people out there who have to voice their opinion about the situation because they are right and enjoy their own voice.

You'll see a barrage of people, who are trying to mourne the loss of a friend and loved one getting angry and defensive because of this person.

I'll summarize what they wrote: "This officer wasn't on duty, he didn't die for his country or his service. Why is this news? This doesn't deserve the attention that its been gettings."

Who writes that kind of thing after someone has died. Are they that miserable that they need to try and fault something like this based on sheer nonsense. 

I still can't get over what they wrote, and its been a few hours since I've read that. I just don't get people.