Sorrow and Regret

An uneasy rain fell on this day. One marring the mid summer, a rare occurrence. Sapping life and energy from I, for my spirit felt restless and tireless. The colors in the normally bright flowers were empty and lackluster, but I still picked her favorites, lily's and roses, bright red marked with the white roses. Her absolute favorites.

Maybe today I can cheer her up. I thought to myself as I stood back up. My shoes muddy and my shoulders sore from picking just the right ones. Maybe today we wont fight. My heart ached from the constant bickering and fighting. It felt like an omen that the heavens where raining and breaking lose.

I was to meet her at her place, a beautiful home with acres, away from the city. But she wanted to meet somewhere else, she wanted to buy new clothes. Part of myself was thankful we could break up our routine of watching movies, eating, and fighting.

Always about the same thing, always "I am afraid that I will cheat." Or "You are never able to do the things I want to do." I always had the answer to such a thing, "But how could you when you say I love you?" Or "I am broken, I cant hike or ride." And then we would both huff and blow until we were raw in the faces and voices and settle down into cold still silence.

"I have to move away, you know with my family." She stared at me with those crystal blue eyes, so soul catching and hauntingly beautiful. The way they curved when she was sad or would shine as if a firework when happy, the part of her that made me talk to her. The part that I first complimented. I wrote poems about those oceans of love and sorrow, about how such beauty that seemed to know the end of time and pain.

And today those eyes were so clouded and sad, turned towards the ground. Those thin perfect lips quivering. "I...I need to say something." I just stared knowing with all the dread in my heart what is to come. "Why do you treat me like this?" I feel that rush of water, the clutching of the chest, ragged breathing. The flowers are nothing anymore. "I...I cant be with you anymore. I... I love you. But it hurts to much. I don't even believe you when you say that you haven't cheated or lied to me anymore. Then I get mad and I end up hurting you. I cant keep doing this cycle. I am sorry."

Those blue eyes look at I, framed with raven black hair, except a few strands in the middle of her hair, white and blonde mixed. She stands there for a few heart beats. Turns and leaves "Fine. Never talk to me again. I hate you."

I meant to give her those flowers, to see a smile on her face one last time. To see that smile that made my day brighten when nothing else will or would. To see the smile that would say "I love you my darling." I wanted one last time to make her eyes light up with wonder and excitement, like all those times before. She was my first love, some one I trusted and shared my heart with.

She was the first person to see my cry, to see me break down after all the abuse and hurt I have felt from my life. She was there when my family lied about my father trying to commit suicide. There to keep me from killing myself, from jumping, or walking into traffic. When I feel into alcohol again to pull me out of it. To me, to me she was a saving grace, and angel to help redeem a very sinful and broken boy.

I loved her everyday for nearly two years of my life. She was the first person I said I love you too. Who made this so called thug and bad ass a softy. I grew still with her, not feeling any of my rage or hurt. Just an outpouring of caring and love.

And I am so so so sorry I hurt you. That everything happened the way it did. But I was broken physically and mentally. I was so hurt that I didn't know what to do anymore.

You see on that day, not only did I lose someone I loved. But a friend, confident, trusted... everything to. I lost what felt like the other half of me.

The one thing in my life I have regretted doing. No other regrets in my life except for that day and not trying to fight harder. But they always say if you love something set it free right? Right? Right guys?

Go

I began to notice strange things when I was young. Oddities. Like how people would lie to me and I knew it. For a long time I knew it. My family said I was strange.. they acted scared of me at times. I could notice.... it was like an energy. At all times.

Now two of my posts involve, ghosts and me seeing energy. And one a demon.  I... yeah this sounds crazy but I see them... well sense. I don't normally see them. But I am aware of them. I am aware of peoples presences. And I am told time and time again that my presence is large, and rough, but that it draws people in.

I was told a few months back by a teacher that I am a man of power. I don't crave it, it finds me. That I can't enter a room without every one wanting my attention. He said "HosKing, people want you to notice them. You aren't a small presence in a room, you dominate without trying to dominate."

Now I didn't believe him until I started riding the bus and random strangers started telling me their problems. Not just small ones but huge life changing issues. I attract things...I attract people.

Now I have no idea how or why I have this ability. Or even if it is all made up in my head (Name of the site does have my name with question mark). I honestly don't see how people can follow me, or why they do. 

I have little tolerance for ignorance, or rudeness. Arrogant people piss me off and I tend to confront them about said arrogance. If you say you are better then others, feel entitled, or put others down I become your enemy. I am hard baring and don't let persons slack off or goof off when things need to be down. Like a Kyojin, I will come down on you. I push hard for excellence and I push even harder for self growth. I abhor senseless violence but will resort to it as a last resort. 

People claim I am a great leader, but I am not. I swear, I smoke, I did drugs, I did alcohol, I hurt people physically and mentally. My best friend, I used to bully him on a daily basis. So why I have this power when I am clearly such a curropt and evil person is unknown to me. Hell maybe I am crazy.

Goals

I have plans. I have dreams and I am writing them hear so I can be accountable ten..twenty.. forty years from now.

I have been a sick person, asthma, allergy's,  mental problems, depression, anxiety and PTSD. I was born a son of a simple man who had been born of a line of greatness. He came from a rich family. He came from an abusive home. My father was a simple mechanic of a simple nature.

He grew violent and abusive though. I was told time and time again by him that I was stupid and an idiot.

I kicked him out. I made my mom divorce him. I decided to spit on what he said. I took my physical aliments and ran with them.

Now I am no great orator. No great thinker or dreamer. Most of the time.

I know I have said stuff before along these lines, but my mind seems to dwell here for days at a time or weeks. But today as with most days I have been trying to figure out my future path in life. And after much thought and much discussion with myself and God I have chosen my path.

God laid out a path before me, one spike and rugged. Where it is easy to fall of the sides and tumble forever.  One where my path is difficult. But...I accept it. I know it is a long and odious and tenuous path before me.

I will be a leader. A better leader. One that people will compare to Roosevelt, FDR, and Churchill.

I want.. nay I will become the president of the United States of America. I want to lead the greatest country in the world into the new era that is dawning.

I still believe in my country and it's people. It's leaders at the moment no. Of neither party.

So I ask... keep me to this goal. Send messages to this blog every few weeks or days or months. Check up. Cause I want to be the President.

stage two

I have grown used to the pull and push of climbing the walls. Of the rocks digging into my hands and belly. The constant bleeding and burrowing, how raw and red my skin has grown. Each little slice has dug in a little bit deeper, I am growing tired. My muscles have long since forgotten how weak they are. The me in-front of me continues on, his pace unbroken. This climb, one he has done several times before. Nothing is slowing him down, the calluses on his body have grown to be so thick that I doubt anything can cut him.

I still cant believe I was falling. I promised on broken knees that I would follow the light and in one missed instant I fell. I began to drown in self pity and hate again. My body in real life, I am aware now of this...blackness breaking, has broken. A knee shot to hell, hips knocked lose. Mighty muscles have given way to fat and sloth.

But beneath this surface is the strength.Covered in layers of humility and falseness is the rolling boiling anger and power. The red that the me in front displays. Some parts righteous others against self the rest of pure world bending anger. One that when it shows it's head for the barest of second people scramble to calm the surfacing monster. 

My body is broken but not my spirit. For my spirit holds the flames tight and whispers to itself daily.
 "Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Each long terrible day it raves against the ever beating of people against me. But I have been battle hardened by years of trails and tribulations. I have become scared and battered on the inside. I am the me..I am I. If that makes sense great.. if not I am sorry. The me...the real me I guess. Well now he is the real me. What with the scares and the limping and the dead-set gaze to always live. The fire that burns in his eyes are similar to mine...well they are mine. But mine don't truly burn with a fire like his. Mine are an ocean of pain and power. Or so people tell me. 

I am told time and time again that my eyes hold pain and suffering. But always compassion and empathy. That no matter my own pain I have helped others. Even in my dark periods. I have risen to help. But then they have also said that when my anger is shaken and awoken that my eyes turn...dark powerful. Hateful. That they can make a man bow in fear. Not respect. 

He flashes green and red. The green perfectly controlled. Sharp. Perfectly warm and powerful. Rising three feet above his head in a sword like shape. The rest like a smooth stylized piece of armor covering his body. Each piece intricately crafted, but all a different style. The chest piece is brutish in size and style. The shoulders are finely carved, elegant, flowing down the arms to taper at his wrists. The hands are simple and curve around the rocks. The legs are woven pieces  with the right one supporting more armor and what looks to be extra hunks or rods of metal along the sides. The me birthed over the last year.

But the red... it has no control. It is raw and powerful. An ax flashes above him. Great and powerful, it must be his body height. The armor is....crude... but awe inspiring. Great hunks, square is the chest section. With the shoulders massive and over lapping. The armor is one craftsmanship. The me that was birthed in that day so many years ago.  

But why do both show up here? Why is he struggling to control his power? Why am I struggling to control him? Control myself?

I forgot why people used to fear me. But seeing myself from the opposite positions reminds me. I was a raw cauldron of anger and hatred. How it would be sitting there unmixed and then become unstable like some chemistry project gone wrong on a thousand levels. 

"You know why Hosking." His words ring sharp and hard into my already bleeding heart. Wincing my face contorts into pain. Physical brokenness is clear, my knee is quitting. Again. 

My fingers snap lose and I watch as his head snaps around, the red blaring loud and clear like a trumpet in the night. In a split second his hands fly off the rocks and he dives. He won't let me fall for he is me. One hand cracks lose and grabs my ankle, the other ones branches out and grabs the wall. I am barely kept from smashing into it. 

I fall in an endless pit of black. A thing beam of light pinned on my chest. A small prick of a light hole way above my head. I am just falling and falling. Forever it feels like. No sound, just the feeling of cold air brushing past my skin. A cold crawling sensation.

One such thing has grown numb. A heart that was warming is cooling again. It's vicious cycle repeating again.  And again.
Again.
Again.

I continue to fall in the blackness. I can feel the icy hand stretched out. It's hatred and malice thick in the air, content in his position. A smell long forgotten wafts up, the one of angry and being scared. To feel the ice tendrils of fear again... my bones freeze. My sinews and ligaments lock and tighten. The restraints of man are breaking again.

It's coming back. The animal. The beast. The side that will fight for looking the wrong way.
I called it the animal. But IT called itself the truth. I thought I had left it...left that part of me behind. But when you only true connection to the earth is one person and that one person is drifting away on a plank of wood and you don't know how to swim...that connection becomes strained. When it is held together by a string of floss a man can fall oh so fast.

I hear their voice rising now. They...god...they are back, Their voices rising from the deep. Thick and thin. Loud and quite. I hear them them again. "Welcome back!" I can hear their joyous laughter at the return of a brother. Of one long lost to the light. One who's faith is shattering underneath a mountain of scorn and hate. Again.
"Brother why did you abandon us?" This voice I heard once before...it's back. Not him...but his king. My human earthy connection is almost gone. My confident is almost lost, the piece of me that was cold water waking me up from a four year slumber. I cant! I CANT GO BACK! NO I WONT!!! 

I begin to thrash and fight this fall. I scream!!
"WHERE ARE YOU?! YOU PROMISED!! DON'T FAIL ME!! You promised...." My words trail off. I have lost my breath.....yet again. A promise, a covenant is straining, my end of the deal is breaking. The fine print always read as long as I want  the help I shall receive it.

A new anger rises up. Each time.... when I think I have hit bottom a part of me rises. Covered in blood, battered and beaten. Bruises covering my face, hair long and unclean. Eyes bloodshot and wild. He..I walk with a limp in the right leg. His bones creak from the relentless battles. But not broken in spirit.
"Wake up...we aren't done yet." I have not a single clue at where I came from but he walks on. His..I mean my body bathed in light. A eternal fire that was promised to be lit. My fall slows and I stand on ground. A black nothingness passes out in each direction.

Time is no longer existent in this plane. Our footsteps slowly blend into one. My guide walks bent, great sinewy muscles rippling in his shoulders. The world rests on him. A tired but determined strength passes from him. A green and red aura surrounds him, it switches between smooth and welcoming and then powerful and wold bending.

Each step is a massive weight, I had lost my own control. I had lost him...Him, I had lost my faith for a bit. I had fallen into the habit of going through the motions. But I trudge on, a slow shamble. In the distance a rocky path stretches forever into the heavens. I have no clue to how high it is but I can't imagine climbing to the top. But the me in-front of me grabs a hold on a rock just above his head and yanks him self up. His feet plant perfectly into crevices.

"Climb. Or you will bow...again." When I feel years ago, he was the part of me that never stopped. The one who forced me to live life. That part that came screaming awake at the thought of death and suicide. The part that flew off the handle every night of drunkenness. The part that became sick whenever I did the drugs. So of course I follow. This is the leader part of me. The one people follow.

The darkness

Just as a heads up this is a raw thing I am going to tell you. This is....yeah.... just bear with this story. I am not a person who likes to beat around the bush or cover up what I am thinking. But I have to tell a story to get it across. ************


A rotting carcass, flies buzzing, that ever persistent buzzing noise that goes around and around. It's permanent stench hanging in the air so thick you can taste the filth in your mouth. It's rich pungent taste filling up and curdling the stomach.

But the more I look at it, the more my eyes watch it's flesh twitch and shake from the maggots crawling across and inside of it, the more I realize it's a person. Or close to one, it's huge. The thing must be a full head and shoulders taller then me.

A dawning and a realization. It's him... or me depending on who you ask. He haunted my every waking moment for years, the first time when I was five living out in the country. I was out side late at night playing with my dog. When I heard twigs breaking and a tree branch break. Naturally I was scared, but then...this thing walked out of the bushes in my backyard. Pitch black, except for the pure white eyes the glowed in the eternal darkness that was him. Until that moment I had not known what fear was. Not when my other dog had tried ripping my throat out, not when I had watched a grown man try to stab my father. Nothing until I saw it. Of course I ran inside crying like a little whinny baby.

From that point on I saw him in my sleep. Almost always, I barely slept for years. He was always there, a giant, walking through my dreams. So dark was he that in night he was an empty space except for the eyes and smile. The wicked ever curving smile that haunted me where ever I went. Even in broad daylight he would walk out and smile at me. For years that mouth moved and I could not hear him. I could not hear his vile sick twisted evil words. That was... not until I turned thirteen.

Thirteen something changed in me, instead of being far away, he was close. Sometimes I could feel his hand on my back, how his hand would almost curve around my chest. I could feel him sqeeze and push. Then one day... close to christmas I heard him. His voice was like oil and snakes. Black and vile. Cold and hot. He was evil.

"I will take everything you love." Some days it would be that, others. "You will bow to my king one day. You will reject it...but you will." His words which was a small bit quickly grew. He began to voice and say what he would do to my friends and loved ones. How and what he would do. I still have nightmares from what he said he would do to my family.

In my freshmen year his power seemed to jump. He had let me go a year without haunting me, I had let my guard down. For one night at my schools basketball game I saw him. His full size, his thickly corded arms, how he was a demon of fear and strength. Nothing was there to hold him back.

"She's mine soon. HosKing." The pause between the words still haunts me. How he appeared a foot behind my best-friend. That smile and eyes. And later that night... I had gotten home with my mother. She had me run up our walk way to unlock the house. As I got to the house the cool october night turned icy. I felt the wind die and the cold stone of him settle in. I turned my head back to my mom. And there as she walked up to me was him. He made her look like a shrimp. His power made the lights on my street dim. His smile was the widest I had ever seen it.

"You can't stop me boy." I sprinted towards my mom. And all he did was turn and walk away. His steps slow and deliberate. I watched him disappear into nothingness.

For the next few months I could feel him in my house. He would not let me see him, but he was there. Ever walking and pacing out of my view. And then my nightmares grew into night-terrors. I would be asleep but aware of my house, and I would see him hunched over my sisters bed. A laugh and smile from him. See him over my mom and little brother. I would feel him walk around, the new king of my home. How he would walk into my room and tell me vile things. I could feel my soul corrupting. How it was breaking under his constant abuse and torture. I was snapping. My sleep was next to zilch. I didn't let anyone know though. I quickly grew violent. My eyes always bloodshot. I was not alive... just a shadow walking and going through the motions.

He began to sit next to my feet in the night. Laughing and talking to me. That smile always there. Always making my heart freeze in fear for he was fear living. When ever some one says that all you have to fear is fear itself, I am damned sure it's him.

We went like this until the summer between my sophomore and junior years. There I went to a bible camp, the week before that he was in my room, ranting and storming. Screaming at me curses flying from his mouth. I could see the anger and froth coming from his mouth. He wanted to kill me, I could feel the pain tightening in my chest, I thought I was going to explode. But he couldn't kill me. Kept screaming that he wasn't allowed to.

At the camp I feared he would find me alone in the dark. Well there I found Christ and accepted him. And the next time I saw him, he couldn't move. It was strange, for all his physical might, he could not move. Something much larger and more powerful was in the room with me. And the True Him, did not like my demon.

It become close to a year before I saw him again. This time he was at a great distance. His smile not there, but his eyes still shinning. How his shadow made light bend and waver.

I later saw him in a dream. He was doing his best to try and get me again. But I was armed with the power of Christ.

But now I saw a rotting carcass. His eyes still glowing, his smile there.

"You impudent whelp. In all my time... no one has broken my hold." I no longer feel his coldness. I see a sad pathetic being now. "You grew lucky.... but I can still sense the pain and anger... it's there. Under the surface. You are still held taught, close to breaking always. The sorrow of you daddy hating you is still fresh as ever. And always will be. Boy I have become a part of you. No matter what you do I will fester... a sore beneath you skin rotting and growing. You can do your best to ignore me but I am still here."

"I don't have to ignore you. I am facing up to my sins and past. Each and terrible bit of it, the alcohol, the drugs, the lies, the violence. I will face each and every last bit of it. I wont break now."

"Yes you will. Your human..... your a sinner, always have been always will be. Your kind never changes. Thats how wars are started.. HEHE." The power he once had on me is almost gone. I can feel it.

"Boy... I will get you. Don't worry we keep close tabs on your kind. Always and forever. That's my lieges promise."

"Good bye, my you rot in hell."

"HA! I will be waiting." I watch as his rotting body slinks off. I am drained after wards, my dream ends and I wake. I think I have finally beaten him.

One step

"Will he do?"
"His Spiritual Pressure is off the chart."
"But what about his morals?"
"We have to test him."
"He's an Ares and Hades class."
"So."
"They tend to go crazy Zet."
"He is strong."
"Maybe to strong?'

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Dust hung in the air, the heat rose higher and higher, thumping and explosions burned my skin. I felt each razor blade sharp piece of glass slice my skin. It blistered and boiled, black and red. My muscles were stretched to their max. I felt the brokenness in my leg, my bone had shattered, each fragment tearing more and more of my muscles up. The right Achilles tendon was gone. 

"Markus get moving!" His voice snapped me awake. The reddish brown hair streaking past, his black and white oriental ropes flapping in the busy winds. The near permanent sunglasses covering his eyes.
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"GAH!!" Son...wow...third time this week. Sweat glistens to the boys body. Messy black hair drips with sweat, a barrel chest heaving like he had run a mile. His eyes were wide with adrenaline.

"Markus get up for school!!" His moms voice echoed up the star case. Shrill to the ear, he hated hearing he drunken voice each and everyday.

Spiritual Pressure

If you have ever watched or seen an anime or manga they talk about this thing called Spiritual Pressure. Its where you can feel the persons true nature or intent. Even how powerful they truly are. Not like strength but that can be part of it, but mentally and emotionally.

This pressure has lots of feelings. People can be black, red, green, dozens. It can be cold, warm, oily and slick. Even rough. Or scary and frightening. Sometimes nice and welcoming.

Now you guys are like???????? That I am crazy.

I have a reason.

So I am taking the bus now. And today I had another person...in like ten seconds start telling me his life story. How he was in drug court and all these other things. He was talking to me like an old friend. And we talked for twenty minutes. At one of the stops a man just started talking to me.

Now I say that as I tend to attract people with.....well I believe I can feel these powers. These pressures off of people. Now the first guy had a small presence. He did not want to be noticed. The second guy..it was bright and happy. He wanted to make people happy.

Now I say this cause I tend to attract people. Or so I am told. One of my art teachers told me that when I enter a room, even if I am acting small, I become the center of attention and people want me to notice them. So I can't stand in class and paint anymore.

But the people I attract tend to have the rougher feelings, like unsure or anger or hurt. Allot of Hurt and Anger really. I can see the red of theirs, how it's so rough and will grow and shrink. They can't control theirs. How it grows hot when they are agitated and cold when scared.

I often wonder what mine must be...I guess it has to be warm to attract total strangers. And big...I say big because I somehow end up the center of things without trying to. It has to be slightly rougher but mostly clean because of how much self training I have done. And the color...lol you choose.

A still moment

Ahhh the cool refreshing taste of lemonade sliding down my throat. The sun just hitting my face and chest in the right spots. Warming me to the right temperature  warm enough in the sun but not to warm to hate the breeze that kisses my skin every so often. I loving sitting in the sun and listen to the world pass me by in my moments of peacefulness. 

I enjoy these moment, when I am allowed to hit the pause button and let my mind ease for a moment. To not have to think or have to be on guard of the world. I am world weary at 18, but I am also world ready as-well. Because of this I ma high strung and ready for action but I plead that each day not require me to go 110% but maybe an easy 90% or 50%? Lol I know I normally don't get it but I do get lucky. Such as today. 

No drama at school. Prepared to move out. Grades are a meh feeling. I love my God and He Loves me. I love my job and I have an amazing girlfriend who always puts a smile on my face. Today life is good. So go out and laugh and live with your friends and loved ones. We earned it. 

Heros

You know there is one simple problem with being the Hero. And I am willing to bet you younglings don't know what it is. I will give you a minute..........can't figure it out?

It's really simple, I promise. I know the answer...do you want it? Yes? Okay..be warned this might ruin the image of them for you. Okay still reading? Good.

.....
.....
.......
...........
They die young. But the few that live through that ordeal, they are expected to be a Hero again and again. Time after time they expect you to save the world...or even your town. I don't judge. Well just think about it, they tell you in movies the Hero lives and the Villain dies...sorry kiddo life doesn't work that way. Movies exists to make you feel better about your pathetic excuse for a life. Sorry you said you wanted the truth, but any way they want you to feel gooooood about yourself. The good guy wins and the bad guy loses.

Well life is sometimes sick and twisted. The naivete of kids your age makes me sick some times. You really think the good guy is always going to win? Hell he's lucky if he wins half the time, hell even a third...or a tenth. Bad guys have an advantage in war, fights. They have no rules they have no laws or moral obligations. You think all men who are "evil" have a reason? Like daddy leaving when they were ten? HA! Some do it cause one simple reason...they can. Nothing stops them. Nothing will.

Why? The good guy, the Hero has to live by certain moral and ethic codes. He has things to live for. The bad guy the villain, some times just the guy on the other side of the road doesn't. Well the Hero can't kill a guy who is near death the "villian" can and most likely will.


I know this cause I have seen it. Good lord I have seen so many Hero's burn in their own self-rightoues quests, and I have caused many to fall.


A wicked smile crosses his face. Perfectly straight white teeth glimmer in the bar. The music dies and a sudden realization dawns on the young man. The guy who has been helping him was...no.

The police found a body hanging from a tree, a gun in his hand blood seeping down his limp form. His skin had been peeled back and what looked like salt poured on his wounds. To this day no one can find who killed the kid.

A=/=C

There comes a moment, one in life where everything sits on a precept. Waiting on the edge with something as weak as a breeze to knock it off and rolling. And in those moments your life is clear, clearer then the bluest lake you have ever seen. Every little mistake every little idiotic stupid pathetic moment hangs there above your head. That moment shakes and tumbles with ideals and new revelation's. It begins to break lose.

You see yourself as a little kid, that one time you said that really mean nasty awful hurtful thing to your best friend. The time that person you liked said no and you felt sick to your stomach and most likely almost hurled chunks all over them. That big test. For me I see a lonely kid in fifth grade with no real friends taking a math class to far above his head. A boy of eighth grade trying to ask girls out and failing. A freshman who does not who or what or why anymore.

The revelations falls. SOOOOOO slow. Your world is about to change, everything. Not just a tiny bit, like "I can change that." But no more like "I will change that." You see how your future can play out. How with one step you can go from a little pea-body in high-school to leading the largest church in the world. (Far Fetched I know.) For me I see it falling, splitting as if by lightening and a powerful force enough to rend the heavens open like they are paper. I see my self from being the ASB president, which I always hope wont be the high point of my life, to being a foreign diplomat and one day standing before a crowd of thousands and thousands, rallying them behind my banner to vote for me. To give me the honor and duty to become their leader, for them to give me the chance to lead the greatest nation in the world. The Revelation?

Ohh ha I forgot. That was God coming to Jesus stomp me, AKA going from an Atheist to a Christian.

"Well Hegemon, I gift more unique to our culture....hmmm and I do feel comfortable giving you a blade. Something does tell me that our races could be friends," Jon Lok's eyes turned over the docking bay, suddenly dawning on him that he was meeting an esteemed member of another nation in the crudest of environments. What with it's dull grey's and plain utilitarian look. When it came to things like this, the Hurun went for simplicity over looks.
"How about before I give you your gift, I show you your quarters and where the shopping district is?" Jon wanted to impress his guest and provide the best treatment possible, he wanted the Tavan to feel safe and at home.

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The military quarters post master hailed the message back.
"Werek, dock your ship and unload your cargo. We have a returning present for your people." If and when Werek landed he would meet a Hurun about the same height at the High Priestess, but instead of a greenish blue skin, this males skin would be blood red. His bone plates a full six inches tall, with pockmarks covering them. His dress was black, sharp and crisp.
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Amkia's gentle probing would find something odd. For an image that could be put to it was simple, the High Priestess Cibal could do Physic links, but her mind was guarded. It would look and probably feel like like a ball, covered in spikes and chained shut, oozing poison. But it was not harmful more like it was protective. No ill intent was there, just a cold ball to protect the High Priestess.

Amkia, you should have just asked. Cibal's eyes locked onto this strange beings eyes.

"I am forty eight years of age, I was born a Priestess and the first female prophet. I have been leading a church since I was eight. I led my first congregation when I was six. The All Mighty Controller spoke to me when I was ten, he spoke of a coming time when we, the Hurun, would eclipse the shadows and create a new golden age. Since then I have been...different. I will tell you more later on that, privately. I am the second in command of the Holy Empire. With only the High Priest, Jon Lok, the true prophet, being the ruler of our people. We lead as one unit, as one church, and one society. Does that answer some of your questions?" Her tone was not sharp nor cold, it was neutral. No emotion, just some one used to their life telling it to another worshiper of their own god system.
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Dear High Priest of hurun,

The Terliran Empire accepts your invation. Emperor Tedian will be arriving with in the next few hour on a Terliran Frigate here is its Signature so you can track it. Be warned, if that ship comes under fire you will have to answer to the power of the Terliran navy.

Sincerely,
Emperor Tedian

"Seriously....they think we will attack them? How...good Controller help us." Slova wanted to growl and kill something, these idiots were starting to become a security concern. Thankfully the battleship was slowly moving into position, the one kilometer giant would sit there waiting.

"To The Tarliran Empire,

We promise you're ship will not come under any fire from us or our other guests. And since we do not know the exact size nor the capabilities of your ship, one of our Tier Three Battleships, The Prophets Regret will be waiting at a distance of six thousand meters from your ship when you exit transition space into Normal space. Do not fear, for all of our guests have been met this way. From there you will be, depending on the size of your ship, will be guided into the holding space by our Station Gar.

Signed, Lord of Admirals Slova."

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones break my bones. I go day to day fighting this fight. I live each day on a gas tank running on empty but with the attitude I am on full and will keep racing ahead. I never hit the breaks on this wild ride I call my life, this crazy, hellion, chaotic way of life. Racing from one destination to the next.

I fight this dark black beast each morning, noon and night. When I am with friends and enemy's and family and loved ones. This beast that crawls within and without each time my eyes blink and I breath, each time my fist clenches, each draw of my breath, with every heartbeat it...it...it's sitting there waiting. Wanting to attack me, my loved ones, my friends, my family and my lord.

His breath is ragged, wet, and warm, a dark deep reminder of my past self. He is me....I am him. He is my anger. My anger is him. Fears and darkness are him and I am him. His dark hands rest on my shoulders, trying to make me kneel and say the words to end it. The words I have thought before but never said. But the actions...I have tried those and it sits there.

I kneel though to a different being. I kneel before an almighty all powerful God! I pray to him morning, noon, and night. With each draw I pray and ask for strength to run and keep fighting for myself and others. To give me courage and the wisdom to handle this day.

I think each day why..why? What is the reason for this? And I have come to the conclusion that Beauty is the reason for life, God created a perfect work of art and is proud of us. He is boastful of his work and we are his beauty and says to go forth in life and live!! Live for Christ.

Human eyes. Human brains.

You sit and watch. You watch as others suffer right before your eyes. Your human eyes. Your human brains. You do nothing. You suffer by sitting silent and quite and....background. Are you happy going through life as background? Are you?

Content to let life dive you by. To be a bystander on a freeway to greatness? To sit and be fat and lazy of mind and body? Happy to be...little?

Why stay silent? What is there to lose? Nothing, for I was there. I was background. I was silent. I was letting life pass me by. Then all it took was a hit to the head, literal and physical, to open my human eyes. To see the colors of love and hope. To go from seeing black and blue. To grab life and yell

STOP!!!

And breath to breath the freshness of a new life. I am now taking charge of my life. Are you?

Cameron is pissed

you see a smile, a bright happy person. you dont know me or like me. the hatred and anger that is pent up and burning inside of me, beneath my calm happy exciting exterior. I have built myself to be a fortress, not a physical one, but a mental one, but not from the outside but from within. 

inside of me rages a storm, years of pent up pain, hate, hurt. you see some one who helps. you want to know me? Know why i act like I do? 

I don't want to turn into my father, that abusive sick evil puss of a human. You see a father and love him, I see a father and want to kill him. I have been abused mentally, physically and emotionally. For years the fists and slaps, the bruises are gone, no physical scars. But my mind keeps them, and when I was younger, maybe when I was five or six, I had an older half brother living with us, I didn't really know him nor like him but one day he tried to kill me by trying to strangle me. I am alive but now i can't let people touch my neck, I snap when they do. Hence why no one touches it EVER. 

To be emotionally abused...I can't fucking stand the words stupid, retard, idiot, dumb any of those ones.  i was called that so much growing up it has mentally ruined my and now I am due to fits of anxity attacks and panic attacks and now my hands shake constintly. I was spoken to in baby talk until i was ten by my father and now you hear this speech issue of mine, this diabolical speech issue.

mentally i am torn and barely in controll. i am held together by thing strands, weak as a flower. I am not strong, you don't know me, some even say I am a "softy" they dont know how much i have trained not to be voilent, as was my upbring to be so. 

so to all of you who think they know me based on my outside, please kindly shut the fuck up with the bitching and whining, the crying and complaining that I am human. when I slip an inch its always the same "he lies. Hes a hypocrite" please kindly shut the fuck up. 

I am done, I am so close to snapping. I am far from being healed all the way and i am far from being a pure christian. i am under constant attack for these things, all because I am me. So SHUT THE FUCK UP! I am sick of the crying that i am a hypocrite, I am a human, not some one bigger then you, i never claim to be, I stive to be a man of God and a good leader. 

DONE!

I kneel

Watch this heart bleed

Watch me suffer

Watch me struggle

I lay in pain

Suffering I fight

This Demon I fight

This hatred suffers me

This bleeding torn ragged hole

The deceiver tempts me

I drown in darkness

I shut the light out

I can't breath

GOD SAVE ME!!

God the Great, the shepherd leads me

God save me!

God you know I need prayer

I kneel

A destiny

I stand at a road diverging. No this is not some Robert Frost poem, though I do love his work. No I stand at two amazing chances.

One road I stay in the northwest to become a symbol, a rising star. I have my foot in the door here, with a year of paging and three years of Legislative day, to the point Senators and Representative address me by my name. I am told day and night I have a voice and people will gladly follow me....I feel a power, one that it building up within me and I don't know what's going to happen.

The other one treks me across the nation to our capital to be a possible Intern at it. Wow I am lucky...

Some

To some I am nothing
To other I am a lot
To many I am little
To few I am all
Who am i?

A different train of thought

His voice carried over the promenade. A deep gravel tone, anger thrust upon words of peace. "Hurun, why do we follow the words of a false prophet? This High Priest and Priestess? Why do subject your selves to worshiping a false god and idol?" Some nodded but most look disgusted, their upper lips curled baring fangs. "How had your god protected you! Follow a true leader! One who has knowledge and experience with day to day life." More nodded and began to crowd around this heretic. Each day the war had gone on more and more of these pathetic imbecilic rose from the belly of civilization. "I say follow a leader who has courage! Who knows what we as Hurun are capable of!" A small cheer from the crowd. His broad face smiled wider and wider. A power seemed to fill his eyes. "People of this fine station! Follow the teachings of the Mad Man, the Hurun prophet the church does not want you to hear! He is alive and well! But in hiding for fear of the Empire's wrath!" The assembled Hurun were now fully in this idiots powers. As an observer in the crowd she smiled. Slight of build, no taller than the average four foot Hurun, she smiled. Her beautifully stunning blue eyes sparkled as her frame glided through the crowd. Her thin delicate hands moved up and gently pushed on shoulders to let her pass. 

Her petite body helped her slip through to the front of the massive crowd. The Hurun speaking continued to growl out his words. Now fully in control of those dumb enough to listen to him, his eyes were evil in their intent, and that sickened her. At the front, no more than a foot from him, with his feet at her chest due to him being on a raised Dias. 

"But sir, what lies do the Priests teach?" Her voice was snake like, it slithered and coiled around his ear holes, her faint perfume wafted to his nose, his eyes dilated. Her simple voice had caused his face to flush, his body now needed tending to. 

"What miss?" His brown eyes drifted down her, desire thick in them, his voice had dropped to a purr. 

"What lies do the Priests teach?" Her bottom lip curled just the tiniest bit, enough for him to see how full and succulent they were. How firm they looked. He coughed a bit as she leaned on his legs. Her amble chest pushing into his leg. His body squirmed a bit under her touch. 

"They tell us that the Hurun are the chosen, that there have been species before ours, and that there is a god. One god." He spoke as if speaking to a child. The women tugged on his pants a bit, to bring his face down to hers. 

"Do you know who I," His face was so close to her, his breath rancid from his last meal, most likely meat. It took all her will power not to snap his thin, weak, twig like neck, like the bug he was. His eyes looked to her and just stared into them, he was her puppet now. And oh how much fun she did have with her puppets. "am."

"Why you are some pretty lady wanting a nice st..rong...no." A deep and fast realization set in on his soul. His eyes opened wide, revealing the red veins around them. His greenish skin tone dropped to white. His mouth slowly fell open. Her face turned into a cruel and wicked smile. Oh how easy it was for her to draw these idiots into her web, how they would look at her and their brains would turn to mush, all for her to ruin them in one fatal blow. She quickly pulled his leg out from underneath him, his body crashed to the floor. Stepping on him with her black leather boot, raising above him onto the Dias. With her thin, beautiful hands, she took off her cloak. 

With each step it floated lower and lower down her curvy form. Revealing a tight outfit, a deep v-cut on her chest, a tight pants with black leather boots up to her knees. A round, angelic face, with blue eyes of fire, with a willpower to make some of those around her drop to the floor in fear. She turned, her bone plates shining gold on her head. she had spent years growing them so they were in a twisting form that from each side of her body displayed different images. On the left was the image of a man with a sword through his chest. The Bonding Wars. On her right was a woman holding a child to the sky. The Church Rises. From her back a man standing broad with a gun held across his chest. The End of Plague. And from the front, an eye which burned red. The Controller.

Her skin was red, the rarest of colors of a Hurun, it shone like fresh blood covered her whole body. A design rose along her outfit, starting from her left boot, in simple blue rose veins. As they went up, they morphed into flames, which upon her back where they ended was a face screaming in forever torment. The Sign.

"Do you know who I am?" Her voice reached out and slapped the hundreds arrayed in a circle around her. A silence fell over the promenade. "I said do you know who I am?" Those around bowed their heads. "I see you know who I am!" Her clear perfectly toned voice raised up to the point of making the eaves creak in vibrations. "The Controller has granted us the protection and safety the Empire has provided you. And yet you repay us by demanding to break apart? Well we wage a war to end the Illiam Confederacy's terrorists sponsored attacks on us and their paid mercenary's! The Empire bleeds to protect you! The Controller weeps at the death's of those brave enough to protect those who can't protect themselves! No disperse." The High Priestess smiled to herself. 

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We will march
Our call shall go out to all those who are free, to those who are enslaved, to the despondent's.
Those who enslave, the tyrants and dictators, the wicked and sick. 
We shall march
Our name will raise across the stars in a holy Jihad, the Hurun will be a new savior.
We follow a life style that will give all a purpose. For we are Hurun.

The High Priest closed his holy scripture. His eyes closed for a few seconds collecting himself. Before him was a crowd of thousands, they were all finishing their verses as well and moving onto the chanting. The assembled masses tone rose and fell, their old words telling a story of creation and death. And of it's continuing cycle. 

His mind drifted for once, normally the leader of the Hurun was as sharp as a tack, but at the moment his mind grew hazy with a realization. One that would have shattered a lesser mind but a leader of an Empire it only slowed his response to the end of the chant. He closed it with the ceremonial prayers. The closing line was always the same and always will be. "And by the will of the Controller we shall live. And by the will of the Controller we shall perish."

He drifted to the back of the grand church. His body moved without him thinking. The mind of the intellectual giant flying across all he knew. Which in all honesty was allot of information to process. This single thought dragged him mind away from all else. 

Three hundred years His species had been a space faring Empire for close to three hundred fifty years now, an insanely long time for only a total of five other nations to come across them. From what their instruments told them the galaxy was a very busy place, with a few hundred other nations out there. Some flaring up in only a few dozen years others it seeming like being their since the dawn. 

And some were truly massive, reports constantly rolled across the Navy's ears of a Rethast, a Star Empire, and various others. And even sometimes of planet wide extinction events, some even enter clusters. It was to his knowledge that there were very large and very powerful threats in the galaxy. And Hurun was currently alone in it. An idiotic move on their part. 

A life twisting, turning, churning, yearning
A life churning cloudy dark twisted by age
a life by age is twisted turn thrown asunder is ripped
A bloody messy heap is life