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Title: Little Something Something Post by medic1852 on Feb 20th, 2005, 7:35pm Ok everyone I know in the last thread I was talking about how depressed I was. I have done everything I know how to do. I have played with my little pigs. I have practiced my guitar till my fingers hurt (cant pick my nose now). Looked at a ton of porn (why lie). Listened to all kinds of music. Then I decided to try my hand at writing. So I wrote down a little something something. It is dark and it is PURELY FICTION! So dont no-one freak it is just writing not a warning. But I figured I would post it hear for all the critics. Please be honest. "Black Talon" The cold blue glistens in the light, in dark contrast of the white towel it lays upon freshly cleaned and polished. Its walnut handle shows the wear and age of its use. Next to it lays a single brass casing topped in black Teflon. Knowing this is the one, it will work. The magazine cold and empty waits for its spring to grow tight with pressure, as the single round is place into it. As it slides into place the action is smooth as silk, locking in place well seated, without fault. The slide eases back pushing the hammer into place. The round chamber easily from the years of use the ramp has no burrs and is smooth. With a loud clap the slide slams forward locking the round in place. The front sight post fits securely in place between my front teeth. The cold steel against my warm lips. I feel sweat building on my forehead. As I rock back and forth from the pain that is unrelenting behind my right eye which sags and waters from the pain. The slack is pulled from the trigger as the tension builds. Releasing the hammer from its place. Slamming home against the firing pin, which in turn ignites the primer. The powder burns rapidly but in my mind I feel each grain ignite. Pushing the black Teflon slug through the barrel. I feel the round travel down the length of the barrel twisting slowly in the lands and grooves. The slug exits the barrel tearing through the roof of my mouth as the Teflon gives way and the once round smoothness gives way to a small mushroom head with teeth like a saw. It continues to spin pushing up through the base of my skull now. I feel the heat from the round it seems as if it is and eternity for the pain to subside. Pieces of skull fragment tear through my brain along with the little jagged piece of lead tearing and pushing. The pressure in side my skull cavity is too much, the top gives way allowing what is left of my brain to pass through and become splattered on the ceiling above. The pain starts to ease but now everything is black as I feel my body slam into the hard floor. But there is no pain in my head as it hits the floor, more like a sponge being dropped into a sink. The warm dark blood pours from what was once my head. But now it is over there is no more pain. The beast is gone; he will torment me no longer. Now it is done. Rodger Brumley |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by nani on Feb 20th, 2005, 7:45pm Wow....it evokes some very strong and dark feelings...I've been there. |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by Redneck on Feb 20th, 2005, 7:47pm No freaking here, answer my fucking pm dude. ;;D Or do I need to ride to that northern yankee assed state :) Down south, redneck, big hickory stick ! |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by purpleydog on Feb 20th, 2005, 8:11pm Wow. Such detachment. Well done. |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by Frank_W on Feb 20th, 2005, 8:15pm Excellent piece of writing! The only thing I would change would be the cliche, "smooth as silk." Otherwise, it rocks. Writing is a catharsis and the page is a safe place to get your rage on, pour out enough tears to overflow all of the oceans, rip up the whole world, bleed all over everything, and to just let your guts hang out so they can be jabbed with a sharp stick. And when the writing is done and the things gnawing away at you have been exorcized, breathe a sigh, put it away, and like Lazarus, step again into the light and breath and whirling dance of life, my friend. |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by sandie99 on Feb 21st, 2005, 1:42am Fantastic! I agree with Nani, sounds familiar... Thanks for sharing! Best wishes, Sandie |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by cat14 on Feb 21st, 2005, 6:15am Good writing, it appears here that writing is good for the mind. Thanks for sharing |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by hilbily on Feb 21st, 2005, 7:25am Great stuff. Have thought it thru many times, just never slowed it down quite that much. Just as long as you only do this to get the demons out, it can be good therapy. Anytime there’s any doubt, just look at the one’s whose photos you have posted. You can’t leave them alone. We’re stronger than that! Hang in there. Jim |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by guesst on Feb 21st, 2005, 1:20pm Very good! Just don't be putting that into practical application. |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by seasonalboomer on Feb 21st, 2005, 1:54pm Yes, the writing can be cathartic. One of my many entries into the "Cluster Laureate Competition". The cluster headache by "seasonalboomer" It’s right around the corner I can feel it lurking, just under my eyelid maybe or just to the front of my right ear maybe its sitting right near my jaw look down, look up stop paying attention for one minute and its on me i fight it, look away, try to ignore its existence deny it if i can in it rolls, like clouds for a storm gathering and then overwhelming It grabs my eyeball and squeezes trying to push it out through its socket from the inside i push back and feel it spread across my face i rock back and forth i say incantations i pray i ask him if this is going to be an aneurysm to just go ahead and get it done take me i rock back and forth some more scalding hot, freezing cold dark or light down, then up back and forth eventually the perfect rocking motion is found and then a new motion the minutes pass into hours i wonder if i will have these the rest of my life what happens if this “cluster” doesn’t end can i gut it out would i learn to accept them, deal with them would i be a different person i get obsessed with this idea could i handle it? i cry i cry out quietly, just whimpering really, not quite moaning no time for pride or bravado my labrador retriever kisses my face, liking the salt of my tears having given into it completely i sit prostrate and then, like the tide it rolls back out gently, leaving the beach strewn with pebbles, shells and jellyfish still my labrador retriever looks up at me, and wags her tail. |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by Frank_W on Feb 21st, 2005, 2:01pm Very eloquent, Seasonal Boomer. So descriptive of what we all go through with this awful things... Your Lab sounds like the perfect supporter. :) |
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Title: Re: Little Something Something Post by BikerBob on Feb 23rd, 2005, 9:42pm Reply to "Black Talon", from Hunter S. Thompson... ----------------------------------------------------------------- "Hunter here, from the great beyond, well, from beyond. Place isn't any fucking better here than what you meat-bound suckers are laden with. Don't fucking pity how some desperate soul leaves the world, just congratulate the occasional player with the balls to choose his own door out and move on. I didn't make love to the gun and the bullet didn't fuck my head spurting brain ejaculate onto the wall. I weighed my options, made the decision, shot myself, end of story. I avoided sure death 13 times before, but I could no longer avoid something that eons of flawed genetic programming cumulated in: that pathetic splattered mess I left behind. No matter how you live your life, it will end the same way, collapsing alone into a void. Nobody is going to make that trip with you, so you'd better prepare yourself for it now. I saw the tunnel, I saw the light and do you know what it is? The light? Just one big burial site for all unfulfilled hopes and dreams still burning with desire. They say to go toward the light, like hell, I ran from it. With every ounce of willpower left to my thin existence, I ran. I have no unfulfilled hopes or dreams to contribute... and that's the lesson man, that's what it's about. You've got your one chance, don't fuck it up before you come here and piously march into that light secretly burning with your petty wishes." |
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