Gabe Redel's Blog: FRYING POTATOES BLOG, page 6
October 30, 2016
Flashlight
Flashlight
by Gabe Redel
A candle under the drapes
will burn the house down.
A candle under a globe of glass
is beautiful.
The largest part of the world
has become a flashlight.
It is very useful
and no longer dangerous
but it has lost its beauty.
by Gabe Redel
A candle under the drapes
will burn the house down.
A candle under a globe of glass
is beautiful.
The largest part of the world
has become a flashlight.
It is very useful
and no longer dangerous
but it has lost its beauty.
October 1, 2016
A Monster's Fairy Tale
A Monster’s Fairy Tale
by Gabe Redel
Author's Note: The following is the opening chapter to my latest thriller novel, "A Monster's Fairy Tale." It is a story about a monster who falls in love with an actress. It takes place in 1895 and then moves into 2055. The novel will be published in the coming months.
Chapter One
May 3rd, 1895 New York, NY
Their alcohol soaked minds smeared the yellow glow of the moon.
At the far corner, just on the edge of the darkest part of the city, Sully urged his friends to keep quiet. He put his whiskey stained finger up to his lips and shushed them between pissy sounding laughs and snickers.
A set of stairs led to a long wooden patio that ran behind the backside of a strip mall. Just beyond the wood walkway was a set of train tracks that snaked out of the woods and entered into town. On the patio was where one of the local homeless took refuge for the night. They inched up the stairs careful not to wake him.
Francis and Hershel were too drunk to recognize that Sully wasn’t joking about wanting to kill the homeless man. He was laughing a lot about it, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t serious.
“I can see that idiot’s feet.” Sully pointed between two benches where his legs were stretched out. “Now all you have to do is wait for a train.”
“Why do we need a train? Are we skipping town because the whores have bigger tits in the west?” Hershel rubbed his chest as if he were massaging the breasts of a female.
“If you don’t do it, I will,” Sully said.
“Do what? What is it that you want me to do?” Francis asked.
“You said it would be hilarious if we threw the village idiot under the train. Those were your exact words in the pub.”
“That would be hilarious.” Hershel hissed through his lips because he didn’t want to laugh out loud.
“The old cuss deserves worse. He does nothing all day. Always begging. Always smelling like raw fish and sun-baked rodent.” Sully’s face lit into a thin smile. “It would do him service to die. It would do the world service for him to die.”
“Yes, it would, but we are not murderers. It is not our decision to take a man to death regardless of what position he stands,” Francis argued.
“Then why did you say it?”
The thought was sobering. Francis could hardly see three feet in front of his own face, but seeing the truth about his loose words dried him up. “That was something I said to give the old boys a good chuckle you fool!”
“To hell with you, you fool. You said it and I liked the idea. Make good on your word coward.”
“I gave no word.”
“You knew where we were going. You followed me out here.”
“My house is at the top of the hill. I thought we were going there,” Francis said.
Sully took a hard stare. His eyes looked like black holes under the starlit sky. Yellow stains had worn into his shirt. Francis could smell the sour of his breath. Sully tightened his lips and squeezed his hands into fists just before he broke out into hysterics. “I was just putting one on you.” He said as he gave Francis a smack across the shoulder. Hershel joined in the laughter. “Lighten up.”
“I knew you were joking.” Francis chuckled a few times to join in, but Sully had suddenly stopped laughing and his eyes had become hard, drilling holes. Francis knew that look. It was of insanity, and he had seen it on Sully’s face one too many times. This time, to Francis’ dismay, was the first time the look was aimed to push him into the insanity.
To break the chilling silence, Hershel said, “But we should still have a little bit of fun with him, eh friends?”
“Of course. We can give him a razzing,” Francis said to try and ease the tension.
“Then we shall go to have fun.” Sully’s voice was sharp. Not an ounce of fun could be heard from his tone. His brow was bent into the shape of a Z.
Beyond the city out among the trees they could hear the first vibrations of the steam engine making its way toward them. Sully dug into his pocket, and with a distant wink, he slid out a knife and popped it open. The blade was long and thin and was still glazed with the bacteria of a prostitute’s vagina. He said he left the juices on it because he liked the way it smelled—of dirt and fear.
Sully stood over the top of the homeless man smiling. He flicked the man’s boot with his finger, but he didn’t wake. Sully turned and grinned and then snapped into a twisted state of mind. This time to wake him, he decided to stomp hard on his knee with the heel of his boot. The man immediately screamed from the pain. Clutching it with both hands, he rolled around groaning.
Sully lifted the heel of his boot three more times to jam it into the man’s body. The first two blows didn’t connect square, but the third one drove deep between his ribs. Francis heard them split and break. “Easy old boy,” he said to try and get his friend to come back to sanity, but it wouldn’t work.
Sully spun in behind the man and put the knife up to the under side of his throat. He gouged it in deep enough to draw blood. “Keep that shit hole of yours shut,” he threatened. “One sound out of you and I will pin your tongue to the train tracks and make you kiss the passing wheels.”
“Ever make out with a locomotive?” Hershel asked.
The man tried to plead for mercy, but he could only gag on his words from the pressure Sully had put on his Adam’s apple.
“What do you eat to keep your disgusting life afloat below the pisser? You stink like piss and I can smell your rotten teeth through your lips you filthy shit.” Sully dragged the knife across the underside of the man’s chin deep enough to split it in the shape of a U. He screeched in pain and clutched his throat. Blood squeezed around his palm and soaked into the dirty gloves on his hands. “Never say I didn’t make you smile. Stand up, pig!”
To make him stand up, he stuck the knife deep into his armpit. The pain drove him to his feet but he tripped on his swollen knee and fell off the wooden walkway. The drop was a good four feet down and he didn’t land feet first. His head dug into the stones of the railway yard. Both Hershel and Sully chuckled and poked fun at the way his body folded as he speared into the ground.
Francis tried to rush to his rescue. He had seen enough.
He jumped down and unfolded the homeless man’s arms from under his body. “I think he’s dead,” Francis said, shocked.
“The lowlife pig isn’t dead. He was too stupid to breathe before I had a little fun with him. Get off! I want to see for myself.”
Sully hopped down from the walkway. Stones pushed out from his feet when he struck the ground. “I can see the pig is breathing from here. Get out of the way.”
“He’s had enough, Sully.” Francis shoved him back.
“Getting sensitive for this drain on society? This poor bastard who spreads laziness and gluttony? This begging fool?”
The man began to moan.
“You’ve already gone too far.”
Sully leapt over the top of the homeless man. His knife was drawn. He stomped into the stones inches in front of Francis and stood up firm, nose to nose with him. “I say he hasn’t had enough!”
Francis wanted to gouge into his friend’s eyes with both hands but the knife aimed at his bowls kept him still.
“Hershel.” He turned to face him. “I could go for a pig roast. Be a pal and find me some fuel.”
“Where do you want me to look?” Hershel asked.
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
Hershel darted his eyes around the area before hustling toward the stores behind him. He put his hands on the window sills to check for a key. After finding nothing, he quickly shifted to another area of the walkway and patted the underside of a bench. Sully shook his head at his nervous friend before giving him direction. “Are you that dull?” he asked. “I can see Francis’ house as plain as I can see this pile of . . .” As he spoke, he turned to the man he had been accosting and saw that he was on all fours attempting to make a run for it. Sully snickered at his hobbled attempt to flee. A trail of blood drops was behind him. He watched him stumble a few times for his own amusement before he pounced. With two large steps, Sully leapt through the air once again. This time he folded his legs and rammed both knees into the man’s torso. He was knocked over sideways into the train tracks. He didn’t holler out in pain until the weight of Sully crushed down on top of him shins first.
Sully chuckled again. He kept one knee on the man’s chest. “Go to the Gutierrez estate and grab a can of lamp oil! I have a match.”
Hershel nodded and jogged toward the house at the top of the hill.
“Good try, piggy.” He grabbed his coat collars and pulled him up to his face. “Try it again and I will draw out your life to endure more torture than I had intended to give you. I’m not sure you’re worth my energy, but I’ll put in the work. Because that’s what humans do. They work to earn their keep. They don’t suck off others like a leech.”
The man’s neck was still oozing blood from having been cut by Sully’s blade. His ribs were cracked and his knee was torn. For the first time, the man tried pleading with his attacker. “What have I done to you to deserve this?” he asked under a frail, shaky voice.
“What have you done?” Sully’s black eyes narrowed. His lips split into a grin. “Francis, he wants to know what he’s done to deserve this.”
“I would like to know the same,” Francis said.
“Then you are as bad as him. No, you are worse. You have sympathy for shit like him.”
“Do not speak to me that way, or this poor man won’t be the only one leaving with broken bones.”
“Is that a threat?” Sully cocked an eyebrow.
In the distance, the train blew its whistle. This time, they could tell that it wouldn’t be long before it would pass.
Francis took a step forward. “It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.”
Sully put his hand on the man’s head and stroked his greasy grey hair. “Well, I believe I have gone too far. I’ve upset my friend. I was only having a little fun with the little piggy.”
“Then leave him alone.”
“Not yet! Not until I answer his question. I don’t want to be rude. But I must rephrase it. It isn’t what you’ve done. It’s what you haven’t done. So I’m going to give you the chance to make up for your sloth. Stand up!” Sully took his knee from the man’s chest so he could get to his feet. He stood up. His dirty coat was drenched with blood. He wobbled on his torn knee. The man kept his eyes on the stones. “Look at me.” He looked up. “I’ll let you keep your pants on . . .”
“What?” he whimpered through cracked teeth.
Sully took an open hand and slammed it across the side of his head. “Don’t speak!” The man crumbled to the ground holding his ear. “Get up!” Sully yelled as he drove his heel deep into his ribs once again. He yelped on impact, but he knew that he had better get to his feet or the next blow would be worse. “As I was saying, take off your pants.”
The man was confused, but he didn’t waste time. He removed the many layers of pants that he had on until he was down to his undergarment.
“Very nice,” Sully complimented. He grabbed the man by the hair on the back of his head and snapped out his knife. He positioned the knife near his genitals, pulled back on his head hard enough so that it forced his hips to project outward, and then dug the blade under his scrotum. “Now, I will let you keep your manhood if you can perform one simple task.”
The man was shaking. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
Sully leaned in close and put his lips against his ear. “Do you think you can do one simple thing for me? Hmmm, my little piggy?”
“Yes, anything!” he pleaded.
“Good.” Sully brushed his lips against his ear. “Walk over there and pick up one of those logs.” He pointed to a stack of railroad ties. The man nodded, but he didn’t move because Sully still had the blade wedged under his genitals. Sully enjoyed the man’s fear as he dug the blade in a little deeper. “But remember, don’t try anything stupid. I’m just itching to dismember a worthless idiot like you, so don’t give me any excuses.”
The stack of railroad ties was a good twenty feet from the tracks. The man limped toward them not wanting to know what Sully was going to do to him next. He put his hands under the top one and tried moving it. The tie was heavier than he had expected. It gave him a lot of trouble.
“This is why you’re a worthless drain on society. You can’t even lift one of those logs!”
With Sully riding him once again, the man found the strength to lift it and lug it back. With much agony, he dropped it at Sully’s feet.
“Did I say you could set it down?” He slapped him across the face. “Pick it up, now!”
As he bent over to pick it up, Sully took the opportunity to gouge the point of his knife into the man’s back a few times. The man flinched but continued heartily toward completing the task he was given. After a few attempts, he was finally able to gather the heavy tie in his arms and pick it up. His legs strained under its weight so bad that he quivered.
That’s when Hershel trotted down the hill and joined them. He had the jug of oil in his arms.
“Just in time,” Sully said to Hershel. “Now, put the log across the tracks.” He did as he was told. “Now, get underneath it.”
“How?”
“You complete idiot. Get under the log!” Sully raised his fist so that he would punch the man in the face if he wasn’t under the log in time, but he was able to lift the log and slide under it without punishment. It lay across his chest.
“Here’s what I want you to do with it.” Sully walked up and put his foot on the tie. “I want you to push the log above your chest one hundred times over. And here’s the game. If you can lift this log one hundred times before the train comes, I might let you live. But if you fail, I will leave you on the tracks to die.” Horror spread over his face. The look of terror in his eyes and the tears streaming down his cheeks made Sully split another grin across his lips.
Around the hill and over the trees, they could hear that the whistle of the coming train had grown louder. “You better get pushing,” Sully said.
The man positioned the log over his chest and pushed it up. He struggled to press even the first three.
Sully watched the man participate in his cruel game with pleasure. He nodded at Hershel who also seemed to be enjoying the cruelty. “You better go faster, piggy. You’re running out of time.”
The man did his best to continue pressing the tie, but he was quickly losing strength until finally he could no longer carry its weight. Sully didn’t like to see that he had given up. He stepped up next to the man’s head and stomped down. The man’s head bounced off the stones as Sully’s foot flattened his face. “Get working free loader!” Sully screamed at him.
The man shook off the sting in his face and mustered all of his strength to try and lift the tie. He pressed it two or three more times before his arms began to quiver. Sully watched him struggle with disgust. As soon as he saw him want to give up, he reared back and stomped down on his face. The man spit pieces of teeth and blood and managed to press it a few more times. But eventually he would lose the strength again, and as punishment, Sully would stomp his face and throat even harder. He stomped the man so many times that his entire face was purple, his nose was smashed sideways, and blood was running off the side of his forehead in wide swaths. The stones under him were painted red. The man got to fifty presses before Sully grew tired of stomping his face flat.
He said, “Hand me the oil, Hershel.” He took the jug of oil and uncorked the top. “What number are you on?”
The man was so dazed from being kicked in the head so much that he hardly knew where he was.
“Are you on one-hundred?”
The man moaned and nodded.
“Bullshit!” Sully stomped down on the log. Its weight pressed against his broken ribs. “You have fifty more! But I will give you a break. I will give you a break like every good, hard working man deserves. You only have to do ten more and then I will let you off these train tracks, but there’s a catch. You have to do these last ten with your foot on fire.”
Francis didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you crazy?”
“Shut up, Francis Junior!”
Hershel snickered and handed the jug of oil to Sully. He held it up to his nose, took a whiff, and then poured it over the man’s shoe. The oil splashed onto his leg all the way up to his knee. When he finished pouring the oil, he slid the box of matches out from his pocket. “Are you ready to prove your worth?” he asked. The man begged him to have mercy. Blood spat from his lips like mist. “If you speak once more I will take pleasure in removing your scrotum. Now, get ready to do some work! In three . . .”
The man was terrified, but he braced his arms under the log so that he could pump out as many presses as quickly as possible.
“Two.” Sully lit the match.
The man was heaving his breaths. His lungs sounded like tin cans with nails rattling around inside.
“Three!” Sully yelled as he dropped the match onto the man’s oil soaked foot. His leg immediately burst into flames. He began screaming. He tried rolling out from under the log so he could save his leg, but Sully stomped down on top of him once again. He held him in place as his flesh burned.
“Do the work, pig!” Sully yelled. He then stepped over the top of him and stood next to his head. He lifted his heel and was about to stomp down onto his face until Francis charged in and rammed him away.
The man threw the log from his body screaming in misery. His foot was blazing. His skin was bubbled up and beginning to char into a black crust. He kicked the boot from his foot and brushed the flames from his calf and knee. Once they were out, he rolled screaming in pain.
“You’re done, Sully. Stand away from him and leave him alone.”
Sully could feel the vibrations in the tracks from the closing train. Its whistle blew again. This time they could see the nose of the engine move out through the tree-line and curve around the track toward them. He pulled out his knife and pointed it toward Francis. Once Francis saw the knife, he backed up. Sully moved close to the homeless man and knelt down beside him. He sniffed the air so that he could take pleasure in the smell of his cooked leg.
“Of course, I’ll stand away.” Sully cupped the man’s cheeks and squeezed. Blood squeezed out from his fingers. His cheeks were so swollen he could hardly get a good grip. “Did I hurt you, little one?” He asked as if he were speaking to a baby. “Is your leg sore? You’re face isn’t even as purple as it should be.”
Blood was streaming from his eyes and mouth. He was quivering violently. He had nearly broken his arms in the stones he had thrashed so hard.
“The train will be here in less than a minute. Get him off the tracks, Sully!”
“Yes, sir,” Sully said. “But first, just this.” Sully held the man’s collar with one hand and balled the other into a fist. Then he began throwing hard punches into his swollen, purple face. The man’s skull crunched under the blows. His eyebrow split and his lip was nearly torn from his chin. Clouds of blood sprayed from his head. Sully landed five or six punches before Francis could grab his arm and keep him from landing again. He dragged Sully from the top of him and shoved him away.
By the time Sully had finished, the homeless man was either dead or nearly dead. He was sprawled out on his back on the train tracks and the train was within thirty seconds of arriving. Francis ran up to him and grabbed his arms. He pulled to try and free him from the train’s path, but dragging a limp man across boards and through deep stones wasn’t as easy as he might have thought.
The man’s shoulders got caught on the steel of tracks. He only had about ten seconds before the train would cut the two of them in half. He jumped across his body and lifted his shoulders above the steel. That did it! He freed him, and he had done it with plenty of time to spare. Once he knew that he had him completely clear of danger, he stood up and tried to step away from the tracks himself, but something was keeping him from moving out of the way. It was Sully. He was behind him, and he wasn’t letting him off the tracks. Francis tried to fight him, but it was too late. All Sully had to do was give him a little nudge and step back.
Because the engine had no bumper, Francis was sucked under the cars. He was ground up underneath. His body bounced from the stones to the steel, rolling over and over. His arm was caught under the wheel and torn from his shoulder. It flung out from under the train and spun to a bloody stop. Francis was finally spit out from underneath the coal car along with his arm. The sharp corner of the car tore into the flesh across his belly. His guts spilled over the stones and sprayed the train as his body was flung. By the time he stopped tumbling over the stones, he was missing an arm, his leg bones were splintered, and his guts were spilled out of his belly. Half his face had been torn off.
Sully and Hershel looked on in amazement. Before they ran off into the woods, Sully put the blade of his knife into the homeless man’s throat to finish him off. He dropped the blade next to Francis’ body.
by Gabe Redel
Author's Note: The following is the opening chapter to my latest thriller novel, "A Monster's Fairy Tale." It is a story about a monster who falls in love with an actress. It takes place in 1895 and then moves into 2055. The novel will be published in the coming months.
Chapter One
May 3rd, 1895 New York, NY
Their alcohol soaked minds smeared the yellow glow of the moon.
At the far corner, just on the edge of the darkest part of the city, Sully urged his friends to keep quiet. He put his whiskey stained finger up to his lips and shushed them between pissy sounding laughs and snickers.
A set of stairs led to a long wooden patio that ran behind the backside of a strip mall. Just beyond the wood walkway was a set of train tracks that snaked out of the woods and entered into town. On the patio was where one of the local homeless took refuge for the night. They inched up the stairs careful not to wake him.
Francis and Hershel were too drunk to recognize that Sully wasn’t joking about wanting to kill the homeless man. He was laughing a lot about it, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t serious.
“I can see that idiot’s feet.” Sully pointed between two benches where his legs were stretched out. “Now all you have to do is wait for a train.”
“Why do we need a train? Are we skipping town because the whores have bigger tits in the west?” Hershel rubbed his chest as if he were massaging the breasts of a female.
“If you don’t do it, I will,” Sully said.
“Do what? What is it that you want me to do?” Francis asked.
“You said it would be hilarious if we threw the village idiot under the train. Those were your exact words in the pub.”
“That would be hilarious.” Hershel hissed through his lips because he didn’t want to laugh out loud.
“The old cuss deserves worse. He does nothing all day. Always begging. Always smelling like raw fish and sun-baked rodent.” Sully’s face lit into a thin smile. “It would do him service to die. It would do the world service for him to die.”
“Yes, it would, but we are not murderers. It is not our decision to take a man to death regardless of what position he stands,” Francis argued.
“Then why did you say it?”
The thought was sobering. Francis could hardly see three feet in front of his own face, but seeing the truth about his loose words dried him up. “That was something I said to give the old boys a good chuckle you fool!”
“To hell with you, you fool. You said it and I liked the idea. Make good on your word coward.”
“I gave no word.”
“You knew where we were going. You followed me out here.”
“My house is at the top of the hill. I thought we were going there,” Francis said.
Sully took a hard stare. His eyes looked like black holes under the starlit sky. Yellow stains had worn into his shirt. Francis could smell the sour of his breath. Sully tightened his lips and squeezed his hands into fists just before he broke out into hysterics. “I was just putting one on you.” He said as he gave Francis a smack across the shoulder. Hershel joined in the laughter. “Lighten up.”
“I knew you were joking.” Francis chuckled a few times to join in, but Sully had suddenly stopped laughing and his eyes had become hard, drilling holes. Francis knew that look. It was of insanity, and he had seen it on Sully’s face one too many times. This time, to Francis’ dismay, was the first time the look was aimed to push him into the insanity.
To break the chilling silence, Hershel said, “But we should still have a little bit of fun with him, eh friends?”
“Of course. We can give him a razzing,” Francis said to try and ease the tension.
“Then we shall go to have fun.” Sully’s voice was sharp. Not an ounce of fun could be heard from his tone. His brow was bent into the shape of a Z.
Beyond the city out among the trees they could hear the first vibrations of the steam engine making its way toward them. Sully dug into his pocket, and with a distant wink, he slid out a knife and popped it open. The blade was long and thin and was still glazed with the bacteria of a prostitute’s vagina. He said he left the juices on it because he liked the way it smelled—of dirt and fear.
Sully stood over the top of the homeless man smiling. He flicked the man’s boot with his finger, but he didn’t wake. Sully turned and grinned and then snapped into a twisted state of mind. This time to wake him, he decided to stomp hard on his knee with the heel of his boot. The man immediately screamed from the pain. Clutching it with both hands, he rolled around groaning.
Sully lifted the heel of his boot three more times to jam it into the man’s body. The first two blows didn’t connect square, but the third one drove deep between his ribs. Francis heard them split and break. “Easy old boy,” he said to try and get his friend to come back to sanity, but it wouldn’t work.
Sully spun in behind the man and put the knife up to the under side of his throat. He gouged it in deep enough to draw blood. “Keep that shit hole of yours shut,” he threatened. “One sound out of you and I will pin your tongue to the train tracks and make you kiss the passing wheels.”
“Ever make out with a locomotive?” Hershel asked.
The man tried to plead for mercy, but he could only gag on his words from the pressure Sully had put on his Adam’s apple.
“What do you eat to keep your disgusting life afloat below the pisser? You stink like piss and I can smell your rotten teeth through your lips you filthy shit.” Sully dragged the knife across the underside of the man’s chin deep enough to split it in the shape of a U. He screeched in pain and clutched his throat. Blood squeezed around his palm and soaked into the dirty gloves on his hands. “Never say I didn’t make you smile. Stand up, pig!”
To make him stand up, he stuck the knife deep into his armpit. The pain drove him to his feet but he tripped on his swollen knee and fell off the wooden walkway. The drop was a good four feet down and he didn’t land feet first. His head dug into the stones of the railway yard. Both Hershel and Sully chuckled and poked fun at the way his body folded as he speared into the ground.
Francis tried to rush to his rescue. He had seen enough.
He jumped down and unfolded the homeless man’s arms from under his body. “I think he’s dead,” Francis said, shocked.
“The lowlife pig isn’t dead. He was too stupid to breathe before I had a little fun with him. Get off! I want to see for myself.”
Sully hopped down from the walkway. Stones pushed out from his feet when he struck the ground. “I can see the pig is breathing from here. Get out of the way.”
“He’s had enough, Sully.” Francis shoved him back.
“Getting sensitive for this drain on society? This poor bastard who spreads laziness and gluttony? This begging fool?”
The man began to moan.
“You’ve already gone too far.”
Sully leapt over the top of the homeless man. His knife was drawn. He stomped into the stones inches in front of Francis and stood up firm, nose to nose with him. “I say he hasn’t had enough!”
Francis wanted to gouge into his friend’s eyes with both hands but the knife aimed at his bowls kept him still.
“Hershel.” He turned to face him. “I could go for a pig roast. Be a pal and find me some fuel.”
“Where do you want me to look?” Hershel asked.
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
Hershel darted his eyes around the area before hustling toward the stores behind him. He put his hands on the window sills to check for a key. After finding nothing, he quickly shifted to another area of the walkway and patted the underside of a bench. Sully shook his head at his nervous friend before giving him direction. “Are you that dull?” he asked. “I can see Francis’ house as plain as I can see this pile of . . .” As he spoke, he turned to the man he had been accosting and saw that he was on all fours attempting to make a run for it. Sully snickered at his hobbled attempt to flee. A trail of blood drops was behind him. He watched him stumble a few times for his own amusement before he pounced. With two large steps, Sully leapt through the air once again. This time he folded his legs and rammed both knees into the man’s torso. He was knocked over sideways into the train tracks. He didn’t holler out in pain until the weight of Sully crushed down on top of him shins first.
Sully chuckled again. He kept one knee on the man’s chest. “Go to the Gutierrez estate and grab a can of lamp oil! I have a match.”
Hershel nodded and jogged toward the house at the top of the hill.
“Good try, piggy.” He grabbed his coat collars and pulled him up to his face. “Try it again and I will draw out your life to endure more torture than I had intended to give you. I’m not sure you’re worth my energy, but I’ll put in the work. Because that’s what humans do. They work to earn their keep. They don’t suck off others like a leech.”
The man’s neck was still oozing blood from having been cut by Sully’s blade. His ribs were cracked and his knee was torn. For the first time, the man tried pleading with his attacker. “What have I done to you to deserve this?” he asked under a frail, shaky voice.
“What have you done?” Sully’s black eyes narrowed. His lips split into a grin. “Francis, he wants to know what he’s done to deserve this.”
“I would like to know the same,” Francis said.
“Then you are as bad as him. No, you are worse. You have sympathy for shit like him.”
“Do not speak to me that way, or this poor man won’t be the only one leaving with broken bones.”
“Is that a threat?” Sully cocked an eyebrow.
In the distance, the train blew its whistle. This time, they could tell that it wouldn’t be long before it would pass.
Francis took a step forward. “It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.”
Sully put his hand on the man’s head and stroked his greasy grey hair. “Well, I believe I have gone too far. I’ve upset my friend. I was only having a little fun with the little piggy.”
“Then leave him alone.”
“Not yet! Not until I answer his question. I don’t want to be rude. But I must rephrase it. It isn’t what you’ve done. It’s what you haven’t done. So I’m going to give you the chance to make up for your sloth. Stand up!” Sully took his knee from the man’s chest so he could get to his feet. He stood up. His dirty coat was drenched with blood. He wobbled on his torn knee. The man kept his eyes on the stones. “Look at me.” He looked up. “I’ll let you keep your pants on . . .”
“What?” he whimpered through cracked teeth.
Sully took an open hand and slammed it across the side of his head. “Don’t speak!” The man crumbled to the ground holding his ear. “Get up!” Sully yelled as he drove his heel deep into his ribs once again. He yelped on impact, but he knew that he had better get to his feet or the next blow would be worse. “As I was saying, take off your pants.”
The man was confused, but he didn’t waste time. He removed the many layers of pants that he had on until he was down to his undergarment.
“Very nice,” Sully complimented. He grabbed the man by the hair on the back of his head and snapped out his knife. He positioned the knife near his genitals, pulled back on his head hard enough so that it forced his hips to project outward, and then dug the blade under his scrotum. “Now, I will let you keep your manhood if you can perform one simple task.”
The man was shaking. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
Sully leaned in close and put his lips against his ear. “Do you think you can do one simple thing for me? Hmmm, my little piggy?”
“Yes, anything!” he pleaded.
“Good.” Sully brushed his lips against his ear. “Walk over there and pick up one of those logs.” He pointed to a stack of railroad ties. The man nodded, but he didn’t move because Sully still had the blade wedged under his genitals. Sully enjoyed the man’s fear as he dug the blade in a little deeper. “But remember, don’t try anything stupid. I’m just itching to dismember a worthless idiot like you, so don’t give me any excuses.”
The stack of railroad ties was a good twenty feet from the tracks. The man limped toward them not wanting to know what Sully was going to do to him next. He put his hands under the top one and tried moving it. The tie was heavier than he had expected. It gave him a lot of trouble.
“This is why you’re a worthless drain on society. You can’t even lift one of those logs!”
With Sully riding him once again, the man found the strength to lift it and lug it back. With much agony, he dropped it at Sully’s feet.
“Did I say you could set it down?” He slapped him across the face. “Pick it up, now!”
As he bent over to pick it up, Sully took the opportunity to gouge the point of his knife into the man’s back a few times. The man flinched but continued heartily toward completing the task he was given. After a few attempts, he was finally able to gather the heavy tie in his arms and pick it up. His legs strained under its weight so bad that he quivered.
That’s when Hershel trotted down the hill and joined them. He had the jug of oil in his arms.
“Just in time,” Sully said to Hershel. “Now, put the log across the tracks.” He did as he was told. “Now, get underneath it.”
“How?”
“You complete idiot. Get under the log!” Sully raised his fist so that he would punch the man in the face if he wasn’t under the log in time, but he was able to lift the log and slide under it without punishment. It lay across his chest.
“Here’s what I want you to do with it.” Sully walked up and put his foot on the tie. “I want you to push the log above your chest one hundred times over. And here’s the game. If you can lift this log one hundred times before the train comes, I might let you live. But if you fail, I will leave you on the tracks to die.” Horror spread over his face. The look of terror in his eyes and the tears streaming down his cheeks made Sully split another grin across his lips.
Around the hill and over the trees, they could hear that the whistle of the coming train had grown louder. “You better get pushing,” Sully said.
The man positioned the log over his chest and pushed it up. He struggled to press even the first three.
Sully watched the man participate in his cruel game with pleasure. He nodded at Hershel who also seemed to be enjoying the cruelty. “You better go faster, piggy. You’re running out of time.”
The man did his best to continue pressing the tie, but he was quickly losing strength until finally he could no longer carry its weight. Sully didn’t like to see that he had given up. He stepped up next to the man’s head and stomped down. The man’s head bounced off the stones as Sully’s foot flattened his face. “Get working free loader!” Sully screamed at him.
The man shook off the sting in his face and mustered all of his strength to try and lift the tie. He pressed it two or three more times before his arms began to quiver. Sully watched him struggle with disgust. As soon as he saw him want to give up, he reared back and stomped down on his face. The man spit pieces of teeth and blood and managed to press it a few more times. But eventually he would lose the strength again, and as punishment, Sully would stomp his face and throat even harder. He stomped the man so many times that his entire face was purple, his nose was smashed sideways, and blood was running off the side of his forehead in wide swaths. The stones under him were painted red. The man got to fifty presses before Sully grew tired of stomping his face flat.
He said, “Hand me the oil, Hershel.” He took the jug of oil and uncorked the top. “What number are you on?”
The man was so dazed from being kicked in the head so much that he hardly knew where he was.
“Are you on one-hundred?”
The man moaned and nodded.
“Bullshit!” Sully stomped down on the log. Its weight pressed against his broken ribs. “You have fifty more! But I will give you a break. I will give you a break like every good, hard working man deserves. You only have to do ten more and then I will let you off these train tracks, but there’s a catch. You have to do these last ten with your foot on fire.”
Francis didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you crazy?”
“Shut up, Francis Junior!”
Hershel snickered and handed the jug of oil to Sully. He held it up to his nose, took a whiff, and then poured it over the man’s shoe. The oil splashed onto his leg all the way up to his knee. When he finished pouring the oil, he slid the box of matches out from his pocket. “Are you ready to prove your worth?” he asked. The man begged him to have mercy. Blood spat from his lips like mist. “If you speak once more I will take pleasure in removing your scrotum. Now, get ready to do some work! In three . . .”
The man was terrified, but he braced his arms under the log so that he could pump out as many presses as quickly as possible.
“Two.” Sully lit the match.
The man was heaving his breaths. His lungs sounded like tin cans with nails rattling around inside.
“Three!” Sully yelled as he dropped the match onto the man’s oil soaked foot. His leg immediately burst into flames. He began screaming. He tried rolling out from under the log so he could save his leg, but Sully stomped down on top of him once again. He held him in place as his flesh burned.
“Do the work, pig!” Sully yelled. He then stepped over the top of him and stood next to his head. He lifted his heel and was about to stomp down onto his face until Francis charged in and rammed him away.
The man threw the log from his body screaming in misery. His foot was blazing. His skin was bubbled up and beginning to char into a black crust. He kicked the boot from his foot and brushed the flames from his calf and knee. Once they were out, he rolled screaming in pain.
“You’re done, Sully. Stand away from him and leave him alone.”
Sully could feel the vibrations in the tracks from the closing train. Its whistle blew again. This time they could see the nose of the engine move out through the tree-line and curve around the track toward them. He pulled out his knife and pointed it toward Francis. Once Francis saw the knife, he backed up. Sully moved close to the homeless man and knelt down beside him. He sniffed the air so that he could take pleasure in the smell of his cooked leg.
“Of course, I’ll stand away.” Sully cupped the man’s cheeks and squeezed. Blood squeezed out from his fingers. His cheeks were so swollen he could hardly get a good grip. “Did I hurt you, little one?” He asked as if he were speaking to a baby. “Is your leg sore? You’re face isn’t even as purple as it should be.”
Blood was streaming from his eyes and mouth. He was quivering violently. He had nearly broken his arms in the stones he had thrashed so hard.
“The train will be here in less than a minute. Get him off the tracks, Sully!”
“Yes, sir,” Sully said. “But first, just this.” Sully held the man’s collar with one hand and balled the other into a fist. Then he began throwing hard punches into his swollen, purple face. The man’s skull crunched under the blows. His eyebrow split and his lip was nearly torn from his chin. Clouds of blood sprayed from his head. Sully landed five or six punches before Francis could grab his arm and keep him from landing again. He dragged Sully from the top of him and shoved him away.
By the time Sully had finished, the homeless man was either dead or nearly dead. He was sprawled out on his back on the train tracks and the train was within thirty seconds of arriving. Francis ran up to him and grabbed his arms. He pulled to try and free him from the train’s path, but dragging a limp man across boards and through deep stones wasn’t as easy as he might have thought.
The man’s shoulders got caught on the steel of tracks. He only had about ten seconds before the train would cut the two of them in half. He jumped across his body and lifted his shoulders above the steel. That did it! He freed him, and he had done it with plenty of time to spare. Once he knew that he had him completely clear of danger, he stood up and tried to step away from the tracks himself, but something was keeping him from moving out of the way. It was Sully. He was behind him, and he wasn’t letting him off the tracks. Francis tried to fight him, but it was too late. All Sully had to do was give him a little nudge and step back.
Because the engine had no bumper, Francis was sucked under the cars. He was ground up underneath. His body bounced from the stones to the steel, rolling over and over. His arm was caught under the wheel and torn from his shoulder. It flung out from under the train and spun to a bloody stop. Francis was finally spit out from underneath the coal car along with his arm. The sharp corner of the car tore into the flesh across his belly. His guts spilled over the stones and sprayed the train as his body was flung. By the time he stopped tumbling over the stones, he was missing an arm, his leg bones were splintered, and his guts were spilled out of his belly. Half his face had been torn off.
Sully and Hershel looked on in amazement. Before they ran off into the woods, Sully put the blade of his knife into the homeless man’s throat to finish him off. He dropped the blade next to Francis’ body.
September 4, 2016
It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's the One I Loved
It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's the One I Loved
by Gabe Redel
The day I saw her
—Oh, the day I saw her!—
I knew that she would be mine.
The time leading up to our first date
was magnificent.
I would always go out of my way
to talk to her.
We joked around like old friends.
Then I saw that look in her eye.
It happened!
She was falling for me
and I was falling for her.
Everything seemed perfect.
I found out her age.
She was so young!
Barely a woman in today’s culture.
That’s when I first saw something
swinging way out in the distance.
It was up above her head
off in the blue sky.
A few more weeks went by
before I could ask her out,
but I finally got the chance.
She said yes!
Of course she would say yes.
Elated, I looked up above once again.
And there it was.
Something fantastic was up there
off in the great blue sky.
This time it took a turn
back toward me.
It had to be awesome for me to see it
from this far away.
The next few dates we kissed.
We kissed a lot!
Long and passionate.
She was becoming mine.
I was wrapping her up.
Things couldn’t have been better!
But up in the blue sky
that big thing that I had spotted before
was getting closer.
It was swinging toward my direction.
I could even see what it was.
It looked like a giant wrecking ball.
No way! I said.
That’s not coming for me.
I’m staying right here
no matter what!
Another week passed
and I got the strangest message from her.
I tried to call her
but she wouldn’t answer.
Why was she not answering my calls?
After all we had together!
I left the house
because I knew where she would be.
When I got there
the first thing I saw was that big black wrecking ball
in the great blue sky
swinging directly toward me.
It was close.
Any second now and I would be crushed.
I stood my ground.
I knocked on that door.
And I took it like a man.
It’s true what they say.
Love sure does hurt.
by Gabe Redel
The day I saw her
—Oh, the day I saw her!—
I knew that she would be mine.
The time leading up to our first date
was magnificent.
I would always go out of my way
to talk to her.
We joked around like old friends.
Then I saw that look in her eye.
It happened!
She was falling for me
and I was falling for her.
Everything seemed perfect.
I found out her age.
She was so young!
Barely a woman in today’s culture.
That’s when I first saw something
swinging way out in the distance.
It was up above her head
off in the blue sky.
A few more weeks went by
before I could ask her out,
but I finally got the chance.
She said yes!
Of course she would say yes.
Elated, I looked up above once again.
And there it was.
Something fantastic was up there
off in the great blue sky.
This time it took a turn
back toward me.
It had to be awesome for me to see it
from this far away.
The next few dates we kissed.
We kissed a lot!
Long and passionate.
She was becoming mine.
I was wrapping her up.
Things couldn’t have been better!
But up in the blue sky
that big thing that I had spotted before
was getting closer.
It was swinging toward my direction.
I could even see what it was.
It looked like a giant wrecking ball.
No way! I said.
That’s not coming for me.
I’m staying right here
no matter what!
Another week passed
and I got the strangest message from her.
I tried to call her
but she wouldn’t answer.
Why was she not answering my calls?
After all we had together!
I left the house
because I knew where she would be.
When I got there
the first thing I saw was that big black wrecking ball
in the great blue sky
swinging directly toward me.
It was close.
Any second now and I would be crushed.
I stood my ground.
I knocked on that door.
And I took it like a man.
It’s true what they say.
Love sure does hurt.
August 28, 2016
Art and Love
Art and Love
by Gabe Redel
I have art.
I have felt it in me.
I have lived it.
I’ve lived it so closely
that I’ve let myself become
what I was creating.
I created myself with my art.
It was a beautiful way to live.
It spoke to thousands,
spread wisdom,
encouragement,
and guided the ones stuck
in a place they did not want to be
to a better home.
And the whole time
I lived to create
I thought I was doing the best job possible
in loving you.
But the years have said otherwise.
Now my creations have dried up.
My flesh has cracked
and exposed my bones.
I’m working hard
to earn money.
I’ve forgotten who I was.
But I’ve learned who I have become.
Creation is art
and creation is love
and what I’m doing
is creating a better life
for you.
My art
is that I love you dearly.
by Gabe Redel
I have art.
I have felt it in me.
I have lived it.
I’ve lived it so closely
that I’ve let myself become
what I was creating.
I created myself with my art.
It was a beautiful way to live.
It spoke to thousands,
spread wisdom,
encouragement,
and guided the ones stuck
in a place they did not want to be
to a better home.
And the whole time
I lived to create
I thought I was doing the best job possible
in loving you.
But the years have said otherwise.
Now my creations have dried up.
My flesh has cracked
and exposed my bones.
I’m working hard
to earn money.
I’ve forgotten who I was.
But I’ve learned who I have become.
Creation is art
and creation is love
and what I’m doing
is creating a better life
for you.
My art
is that I love you dearly.
Apocalypse
Apocalypse
by Gabe Redel
In a small tomb
dug underground
a trapped man sits.
With his arms outspread,
stretching from wall to wall,
and his neck bent
under the ceiling
he fights
to keep the walls from caving in.
What once was alive in him
has become his surroundings.
His arms and shoulders throb
from the weight of the underground.
Above his head
on the crust of the living
the bodies of the nations
burn to the ground.
Their own fires.
Barren land,
night and darkness,
searchlights of the survivors
circle the desolation
with shovels in hand.
The work left behind
from those who squandered life to the fire
is bountiful.
by Gabe Redel
In a small tomb
dug underground
a trapped man sits.
With his arms outspread,
stretching from wall to wall,
and his neck bent
under the ceiling
he fights
to keep the walls from caving in.
What once was alive in him
has become his surroundings.
His arms and shoulders throb
from the weight of the underground.
Above his head
on the crust of the living
the bodies of the nations
burn to the ground.
Their own fires.
Barren land,
night and darkness,
searchlights of the survivors
circle the desolation
with shovels in hand.
The work left behind
from those who squandered life to the fire
is bountiful.
July 24, 2016
Light
Light
by Gabe Redel
A sheet of sun was over his skin.
He thought about the healthy things
life has to offer.
He thought about
his mind
and that it was not in him any longer.
The dirt under his fingernails
soaked through with sweat.
Water rolled over his heart.
He was with her.
Her face and her voice
pushed the time away.
Up ahead
out of the darkness
was more than cool thoughts.
He knew he had a future.
He knew he had to reach for it.
It was not where he was.
It was not around him today.
It was in the heat
wrapping against his body.
The water
that beaded against his skin
were the letters
of a crying prophet.
In his thoughts
he wanted to be there.
All over his body
and across his lips
and against the mind that he no longer recognized.
It had taken him.
It had taken who he was
and put him in the ground
long before he knew
that the sun and the water
were taking him to where he wanted to be.
by Gabe Redel
A sheet of sun was over his skin.
He thought about the healthy things
life has to offer.
He thought about
his mind
and that it was not in him any longer.
The dirt under his fingernails
soaked through with sweat.
Water rolled over his heart.
He was with her.
Her face and her voice
pushed the time away.
Up ahead
out of the darkness
was more than cool thoughts.
He knew he had a future.
He knew he had to reach for it.
It was not where he was.
It was not around him today.
It was in the heat
wrapping against his body.
The water
that beaded against his skin
were the letters
of a crying prophet.
In his thoughts
he wanted to be there.
All over his body
and across his lips
and against the mind that he no longer recognized.
It had taken him.
It had taken who he was
and put him in the ground
long before he knew
that the sun and the water
were taking him to where he wanted to be.
July 10, 2016
Age Gives & Age Steals
Age Gives & Age Steals
by Gabe Redel
Talking to grandma on the phone
was peaceful.
She told me stories about puppies
racing around.
And she spoke about old friends
that I knew.
She went on happily.
Rarely did she complain.
She told the truth about her health.
Tears hit her eyes when she spoke
about the grandson she missed.
She told how he
was still a part of the family conversations.
When I spoke to her
I wasn’t bored once.
I did not have anxiety.
I was thankful,
like the same feeling that comes
when holding an infant,
but it was not me
holding her.
It was her holding me.
Age is going to take her
away from me one day,
but it was also age
that gave me such a wonderful person
whom I call grandma.
by Gabe Redel
Talking to grandma on the phone
was peaceful.
She told me stories about puppies
racing around.
And she spoke about old friends
that I knew.
She went on happily.
Rarely did she complain.
She told the truth about her health.
Tears hit her eyes when she spoke
about the grandson she missed.
She told how he
was still a part of the family conversations.
When I spoke to her
I wasn’t bored once.
I did not have anxiety.
I was thankful,
like the same feeling that comes
when holding an infant,
but it was not me
holding her.
It was her holding me.
Age is going to take her
away from me one day,
but it was also age
that gave me such a wonderful person
whom I call grandma.
Fountain of Youth
Fountain of Youth
by Gabe Redel
The Fountain of Youth
is all around us.
It surrounds us with wealth.
It’s our choice
if we choose to see it
and drink.
It’s a daily choice.
One drink
does not last forever.
But the wealth
of the fountain
will always be there.
It will be within arms reach
always,
but it will never be
in both of our hands
at the same time.
It is not
in either direction.
It is either here or there,
not here and there.
The good news is
that even after we look the wrong way
the wealth
of good things
will still be right in front of us
waiting for us to take hold.
by Gabe Redel
The Fountain of Youth
is all around us.
It surrounds us with wealth.
It’s our choice
if we choose to see it
and drink.
It’s a daily choice.
One drink
does not last forever.
But the wealth
of the fountain
will always be there.
It will be within arms reach
always,
but it will never be
in both of our hands
at the same time.
It is not
in either direction.
It is either here or there,
not here and there.
The good news is
that even after we look the wrong way
the wealth
of good things
will still be right in front of us
waiting for us to take hold.
What I Want
What I Want
by Gabe Redel
I want to stay thin.
I want ice-cream.
I want love.
I want time to myself.
I want to train.
I’d rather stay on the couch.
I want a clean mind.
I crave what’s dirty.
I want to help others.
I don’t want to feel pressure.
I want to do good things.
I want to look better than everybody else.
I want forgiveness.
I want people to pay for their wrong.
I wish my life was different.
by Gabe Redel
I want to stay thin.
I want ice-cream.
I want love.
I want time to myself.
I want to train.
I’d rather stay on the couch.
I want a clean mind.
I crave what’s dirty.
I want to help others.
I don’t want to feel pressure.
I want to do good things.
I want to look better than everybody else.
I want forgiveness.
I want people to pay for their wrong.
I wish my life was different.
Inside
Inside
by Gabe Redel
This energy
has ammunition
over flowing from its body.
Its legs
can carry three times its weight.
It has knives
and arrows
and rifles
and automatic weapons
positioned on ever side.
The energy has a mind
that is prepared
to fight
at any time.
It knows its environment.
It understands
what threats
are out there
and it has a plan
for each of them.
It waits
for an opportunity
to hurt what it does not like,
and one day
it got that opportunity.
The opportunity came out of the bushes
in plain daylight,
and it locked
its sight on its target.
But it did not attack.
It wanted to, but it could not.
The energy was only a baby
living inside a man
who had spent his life
believing that peace was more important.
by Gabe Redel
This energy
has ammunition
over flowing from its body.
Its legs
can carry three times its weight.
It has knives
and arrows
and rifles
and automatic weapons
positioned on ever side.
The energy has a mind
that is prepared
to fight
at any time.
It knows its environment.
It understands
what threats
are out there
and it has a plan
for each of them.
It waits
for an opportunity
to hurt what it does not like,
and one day
it got that opportunity.
The opportunity came out of the bushes
in plain daylight,
and it locked
its sight on its target.
But it did not attack.
It wanted to, but it could not.
The energy was only a baby
living inside a man
who had spent his life
believing that peace was more important.
