Wednesday, October 20, 2010

A Painted Christmas

Patrick Finn arrived home from his Christmas conquests, beating out the snowstorm by mere miles, mere minutes. He felt not only the foreboding presence of a hazardous blizzard, but also that of something else. Something darker. It felt as if it resonated not only within his soul, but also within the souls of those around hi, within the very ground itself. Patrick had never bothered to check, but he was sure that beneath the grass and soil of Winter Harbor, Maine, therein hungered a gaping mouth or a chasm yearning for the flesh of the innocent, and anchored to the physical world only by a desire to seem normal. It had not yet been appeased because the residents of Winter Harbor were all but innocent.
Patrick had moved to Winter Harbor hoping to escape the despondency and despair he had felt in his hometown, Belmont, Maine. So far these feelings had only amplified, magnified, by both the wintry death that he felt tiptoeing in the town’s midst and the lingering scent of paint that seemed to permeate every building in the city. It was as if the town was constantly being repainted in some sort of halfhearted attempt to cover something up. Still, he felt it necessary to stay, so as not to make matters worse for his wife, whom he barely saw anymore, and his son, who always seemed so distant. He and his wife were going through a rife time in their marriage and their son was feeling its effects. It was akin to what one may feel after a tumultuous earthquake. Patrick felt that he had to make it up to his son, so he went out and bought him the most expensive and extravagant thing he could his hands on this late in the shopping season, a brand new video game system. He had assured his son that, evne though he had acted out often this year, Santa would bring him something good. Throughout these charades, Patrick felt empty at the prospect of shipping for a boy that he knew nothing about, a boy whose existence was forgotten every so often.
On the Even of Christmas, Patrick arrived home before the snowstorm and quickly crept into the garage to wrap the present and place it under the tree. It was in this garage that he often felt abrupt changes, as if within its small space, it contained secrets beyond human comprehension. The musky smell of the old holiday decorations coupled with the omnipresent scent of fresh paint, varnish, and gasoline all seemed to meld into one personified force, whispering sweet nothings to Patrick as he exited his car. This caused him to shudder heavily, as if beset by a fit of delirium tremens. He shrugged off the dull headache and dry mouth before quickly and sloppily wrapping the gift. Following this, he slipped it under the tree and began to creep upstairs. He couldn’t help but grimace at the thought that he was as far from Santa as humanly possible.
As he reached the top of the landing, Patrick glanced over at the clock. It read 11:49. He stood there, as if to wait for some fleeting childhood feeling that may accompany the arrival of Christmas. It did not come, as he soon found. Nor did cheery music, nor the scent of evergreens and cookies. Just deafening silence and that damnable scent of paint. It was everywhere, he couldn’t escape it. The arrival of yet another disappointing Christmas struck Patrick like a blow to the face. He fell to his knees then subsequently onto his stomach. He couldn’t tell if he had passed out or not.
Suddenly, a loud sound in his son’s room jarred Patrick awake. He quickly got up and stumbled into the room. The popping sound he had heard made him wonder what made it, and when he finally found out, he was confused even further. A large, black humanoid, adorned with goat horns and a tongue that writhed like a snake, stood before him, clutching his son. Patrick stood dumbfounded, seemingly incapable of recognizing not only the creature, but anything else before him.
“What do you want?” Patrick asked. Innately, he knew that the creature wanted something.
The creature smiled, licking his lips.
“Thine tender fruit, not spoiled by the worms of new but by the tree that bore it… ripened not into ambrosia but a rotten, hollow core…”
Patrick stared at the creature. Sweat began to collection on his brow. He felt as if his brain itself had been lit afire. He couldn’t breathe.
“I… I can’t say I understand…” Patrick stammered out.
The creature smiled again.
“Not by love of a dying star can a a planet be adorned, but by the eruption of its most sacred peaks? I desire the treasures from which you hope to find salvation. The gift to your boy. It is a gift for me, now.”
Patrick couldn’t understand why the creature would want the game system, but he felt it necessary to give it up. He quickly bolted downstairs, grabbing the box and, clutching it tight, he sprinted back up to his son’s room. The creature, upon his arrival, thrust Patrick’s son to the floor and held out one long, beckoning hand. As Patrick handed over the present, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were Faust himself, exchanging an eternity for one single moment of gratification. The creature licked his lips once more and disappeared in the time it took Patrick to blink.
When he was sure he as alone, Patrick fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his son. He expected a “thank you,” an “I love you,” something. He heard nothing. He looked down. He found that his son was withering away, becoming the very shadows that inhabited the night around him. Patrick knew at that moment that he was entirely alone, swallowed finally by the chasm beneath his feet. He stumbled to the garage before sitting down, embracing his solitude and his communion with the musky smell of paint that seemed to beckon invitingly.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Well, I've been thinking about getting my first tattoo.
I dont want it to be one of those common scripts of dark green ink but have some color in it, I found 1 I like, I'm thinking about getting one under my forearm.
If anyone knows of a good tattoo art website please post it in a comment!

oh and heres a pic of the 1 I liked.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

2 Wheels a descriptive essay on a motorcycle.

2 Wheels
  Looking at how fierce this machine on two wheels is can put chills on a person. It’s a bike with an attitude. Listening to how the engine roars with each thrust while the bike is idling is loud enough to make a car alarm system go off. From its sleek appearance to its extraordinary performance makes the 2010 Kawasaki Ninja 250r one of the highest recommended bikes of the year.
  From the front, the 2010 model has a whole new style of fairings, sleek and elegant as they seem, but also with a sense of attitude. It also has a new cool blue headlight, which illuminates greater than the regular standard motorcycle headlight. The windshield is polished black which blends in perfectly with the bikes head. An all digital control system helps the rider see how fast he is going more accurately. Along with sturdier forks, this makes the Ninja a stronger bike.
  Being able to hold up to 5 liters of gas is the gas tank, a hump in the middle of the bike, similar to a camel.  With its rubber embedded grips, making it harder for the rider to slip off. The new anti slip seat, made up of foam covered by a layer of leather is a priceless accessory for any rider. Getting to one of the most important features of any bike is the engine; 250cc with its digital ignition, to its liquid cooling system which can bring a rider from 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds is a luxury to most riders. Notice how the side fairings look elegant with their custom design, setting 6 inches from the ground making the bike look bigger, as if it had a suit of armor on.
  Moving on to the back, we have the tail. About a foot long, its small and thin sitting just above the rear wheel, it also has a spot for a secondary passenger. A red light on the end which serves as the tail light glows a bright red. Right beneath the tail sets the rear wheel, a 17 inch 130/70 edition street edition wheel, it was made with special grips and grooves on the tire solely for the street. A factory default chrome exhaust system is what helps make the roar of the motorcycle when it’s zipping up and down the street. The exhaust extends to the rear of the bike which then turns into a tail pipe. The tail pipe is about a foot long and it rests close to the rear wheel.
  All of this packed into a singular functioning machine makes the 2010 Kawasaki Ninja a bike with unlimited potential. A person that wants to get into bikes or just wanting to hit speeds up to 110 miles an hour while saving money on gas should look into a bike like this. The best definition for this bike would be “Fun”.  

Word Count: 499

Friday, October 1, 2010

Dirt ( another Essay I wrote for my english class)


It is not uncommon to see ATV enthusiasts in Southern California. When
I turn on the TV or take a drive out to the desert region I am most likely to run into a four wheeler. Sometimes they don’t land a trick right and crash, but I did not expect something like that would necessarily happen to me. I was soon to find out what the toll of being reckless was. I have never been more fearful in my life as I was that afternoon.
The alarm on my phone went off it was a scorching day. Even though it was early in the morning, it was warmer than normal in the middle of August. I jumped out of my bed and hurried to the kitchen table. I quickly ate my food. This was the day I got to ride my first quad. I rushed back into my room and quickly changed clothes. I went over to my friend’s house. There it was a Honda 400cc quad. My friend came out and asked if I was ready to go to the track. We loaded up the quads and drove off. When we get to the dirt track which was in the middle of the desert, we put our protective gear on. After about 20 minutes of me learning the basics and riding around on the quad, I start to get comfortable with it, too comfortable. I see a dirt ramp; I decided I was going to try to jump it, I started to pick up speed. My hand clenches the clutch, I change gears. I’m nervous but excited and my adrenaline kicks in. I can feel the sweat on my face; I hold down the accelerator and pick up speed. I am shivering underneath my armor. I’m probably running 35 mph I see the jump, and I brace myself for it. I am starting have second thoughts on this jump! I keep getting closer and picking up speed. I hit the jump! But something went wrong, I shifted the quad too much and I was off balance. My eyes widened with fear! I’m panicing! I knew I was about to crash. The quad landed on 2 wheels, and then it rolled. I bailed off the quad, landed about 5 feet into a bush. I laid there on the ground,in pain, being grateful. I only got a couple of bruises, but it could have been a lot worse.I could barely walk when my friend came riding up to me. I make my way up to the messed up bike. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, just a bent handle bar. My friend exchanges his bike with me and I go back to the truck and then we made our way home. I still ride ATVs to this day. It really helps to be more careful, I consider myself lucky; after all that happened I could be in a wheelchair. But now I take the time to plan a jump.
Word Count 509