Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 60

Sex Surrogate

VERSE 1
It’s been forever since our last session
Not much going on that’s worth mention
I still coast through life at a turtle’s pace
I still have my famous Resting Bitch Face
Should’ve called you when I had the chance
Not much happening in the way of romance
How many more sessions am I allowed to have?
Can we still meet for at least an hour and a half?

VERSE 2
I’m sorry I’m late, but traffic was a mess
I’m sorry for these excuses I must confess
I got cold feet and stalled for a while
I might as well be walking the green mile
We all know how this session will end
I can’t be cured, but I can make amends
I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be
Whether in bed or in life, nothing is free

VERSE 3
I must admit that I’m starting to like you
I’m sorry if this confession frightens you
I know we can’t have romantic feelings
But it’s a desire which I’ve been feeding
You’re married and happy, I understand
Reciprocation isn’t something I demand
I just had to get it all off my chest today
What a wonderful time to feel so brave

VERSE 4
This isn’t working, give me back my pills
This never ending pain is mine to kill
Sedated and jaded, everything has faded
Nothing left after my ego has deflated
The comfort zone is calling my name
It tells me to stop playing these sex games
It tells me that taking risks is foolish
Maybe I’ll listen until the day I’m ghoulish

Three Roads

***COLD OPEN***

Before I get to the bulk of this blog entry, I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who offered me and my family condolences after we had to put our dog Maggie to sleep. She was a dear member of the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson household and will always have a special place in our hearts. Thank you, Maggie, for bringing us over a decade of joy. You’re now reunited with Molly and the two of you can play and wrestle on the Rainbow Bridge forever. I love you, Maggie-Pie.


***THREE ROADS***

Though I struggled to concentrate, I managed to write the final chapter of Beautiful Monster last night, which means I’m going to need another project to work on. As of now, I have three possible routes I could go. One of them is to write movie reviews for my birthday DVD’s until I can come up with something more permanent. The second option would be to work on another novel, but I don’t know which one I want to take a stab at yet. And then there’s the third and arguably most difficult option, edit the shit out of one of my many first drafts and publish it in paperback and Kindle form. Tonight we’re going to look at all three options to see which one is best for me at the moment.


***MOVIE REVIEWS***

Anytime I receive gifts for my birthday or Christmas, I always have to take pictures of them and post them online. I don’t know what I hope to achieve with that. It’s not like they’re award-winning photographs. It must have something to do with being chronologically predisposed to taking pictures of everything since I was born in 1985. One of these many pictures features a pile of DVD’s juxtaposed with a graphic novel about Andre the Giant (another medium I plan on reviewing in the future). I don’t get the opportunity to watch movies that much (because I’m too zonked out to even try), but I’ll make time for these DVD’s for sure. Here are the reviews you can look forward to:

1. Aviator
2. Battlestar Galactica
3. Cloud Atlas
4. District 9
5. Flight Plan

My mom’s work buddy Eric has nothing but good things to say about Cloud Atlas, so I’ll probably watch and review that one first. And then there’s District 9, which Ashley-Pie says is a modern day classic. I don’t know a whole lot about the other three movies, but they’re getting their time to shine one way or another.


***NOVEL IDEAS***

A little birdie once suggested to me that I write longer chapters and shoot for more of them instead of only conforming to a twenty chapter limit. Actually, he’s not a birdie. His name is Patrick and he’s easily one of my favorite readers, so I put a lot of trust in the things he says. The question now becomes, what will that next novel be? I don’t have very many mapped out from beginning to end, so that will be something I have to do when I eventually make my choice. I’m leaning towards these ideas as of now:

1. Booger the Clown (modern fantasy about an ex-marine turned birthday clown who picks fights with an orc militia in an attempt to kill himself)
2. Fantasmic Land (modern fantasy about a high school student who runs away from home and spends his days in a hedonistic magical theme park)
3. Incelbordination (college drama about a dwarf student who is a person of interest for an on-campus organization of “involuntary celibates”)
4. Suck It, Double Dork (crime thriller about a disgruntled cartoonist (loosely based on the creator of Ren & Stimpy, John K) who leaves pornographic drawings in public places in order to create a shock in the system)
5. The Last Thunder Eagle (young adult drama about an angry elementary school kid who spends summer vacation playing soccer (which he hates) instead of playing videogames (which he loves))

Decisions, decisions, decisions…and choices, too…


***UPDATED CHICKEN SHIT LIST***

A chicken shit list is a term I coined for a roster of first draft creative writing projects that I hope to have edited and published sometime in the near future. The term comes from the phrase “making chicken salad out of chicken shit”. The higher on the list the project ranks, the harder it will be to edit the shit out of. Novels will always rank highest since altering one part of them could change the whole story altogether. Short story collections rank in the middle since they don’t interact with each other canon-wise. Poetry ranks lowest on the list because, well, poems are much easier to write than novels and short stories. This is what my updated chicken shit list looks like:

1. Filter Feeder (environmental fantasy novel about a duo of clam fisherman who want revenge on an energy corporation after their lake was poisoned with oil)
2. Watch You Burn (psychological fantasy novel about a schizophrenic college student who has realistic hallucinations about being the chosen hero in his favorite anime)
3. Demon Axe (heavy metal fantasy novel about a singer who must gain the confidence to slay an elven terrorist after the singer’s band mates are brutally murdered)
4. Silent Warrior (young adult drama novel about a high school introvert who feels as though he’s being mentally crippled by the system around him)
5. Beautiful Monster (historical fantasy drama about an elf knight who escapes sex slavery and must deal with the consequences of PTSD afterwards)
6. Poison Tongue Tales 2 (science-fiction, fantasy, and horror short stories of varying subject matter)
7. American Darkness 2 (contemporary drama short stories of varying subject matter, mostly politics)
8. American Darkness 3 (more contemporary stories that I’ll probably fuse with its predecessor when the time comes to publish the collection)
9. It’s My Country and I’ll Cry If I Want To (WIP poetry collection about varying subject matter, mostly dealing with politics and psychology)

The next project I edit the shit out of will depend on my editor/beta-readers’ collective schedules. The more time they have, the more likely they are to take on a high-ranking project. No pressure whatsoever.


***CONCLUSION***

So that’s what the near future looks like for Garrison Kelly a.k.a. me. If you have any input as to which roads I should take, I’d love to hear it. Let’s turn this artistic process into a democracy! Why? Because I love you all, that’s why! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!


***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“A restless eye across a weary room. A glazed look and I was on the road to ruin. The music played and played as we whirled without end No hint, no word, her honor to defend. “I will, I will,” she sighed to my request. And then she tossed her mane while my resolve was put to the test. Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire, I led the way to the funeral pyre. Without a thought of consequence, I gave into my decadence. Was it love or was it the idea of being in love? Or was it the hand of fate that seemed to fit just like a glove? A moment slipped by and soon the seeds were sewn. The year grew late and neither one wanted to remain alone. One slip and down the hole we fall. It seems to take no time at all. A momentary lapse of reason that binds a life for life. A small regret you won’t forget. There’ll be no sleep in here tonight.”

-Pink Floyd singing “One Slip”-

Beautiful Monster, Final Chapter

At first Tarja thought that Windham’s longing to travel south was just a means to get as far away from Paladin Cross and Shelly Atwood as possible. She wouldn’t have blamed him for it and might have done the same thing herself. It turns out the South Country held something more dear to Windham’s permanently stopped heart: his old village.

Traveling on horseback took several days of eating nothing but salted meat and drinking lukewarm water. Tarja’s rations were close to depleting, but her stomach didn’t do nearly as much growling in pain as her broken heart, though stopping to vomit along the way told a different story. How could she be sick when she took special care not to contract the same disease that Windham had?

By the time she reached the Xavier Village, Tarja had grown too weak to appreciate the beauty of such a place. She dismounted her horse and nearly lost her equilibrium. Her eyes glazed in and out of focus. She ignored the several domesticated cats that rubbed their fuzzy faces against her ankles. All that mattered to her was the weapon in her hand that tortured many foes and brought five second peace of mind to the one using it.

Tarja couldn’t shake the images of Windham whipping his opponents and getting an emotional high off of it. The female bandit whose back was shredded into little stringy tassels. Rinehart’s spinal column and ribs exposed for all to see. Though she wasn’t there to see Shelly and Torger’s deaths, the imagery of it all sent chills through her limbs. Windham did all of this in the name of personal freedom, yet his biggest form of relief didn’t come until after he ingested those toxic mushrooms.

With her head hung low, Tarja trudged through the dirt path completely ignoring the shocked expressions of Windham’s fellow elves. These people had been picking crisp vegetables and plump fruits from various gardens. They were building grass huts as tall as the eye could see. They petted and fed the various cats strolling around the fields. And now they all stopped what they were doing to gaze upon the weapon that had once belonged to their dearest friend, now in the hands of a sorrowful and mysterious woman.

The tallest grass hut adorned with amber jewelry and wooden artifacts was the one Tarja needed to enter the most. Sitting at her throne drinking herbal tea was a woman who could have been Rinehart’s mirror image (as opposed to anybody else here?). Her blond hair flowed freely down her back, decorated with a singular braid down the middle and a wooden crown upon her forehead. Her regal white dress gave as much of an air of gentleness as her solemn, slender face.

“Come forth, warrior,” the elven queen whispered. Tarja did so, but not without dragging her heavy feet across the carpeted floor, exhausted emotionally and physically. “Young lady,” the queen continued. “Why do you look so sad?” Instead of telling her, Tarja showed her as she placed Windham’s whip in the elf politician’s hand. The queen lifted her head with a single tear falling from her lovely visage. “Is this my brother’s?”

“It is,” answered Tarja, wiping tears from her own face with her trench coat sleeve. “I failed him. He’s gone because of me. And that whip is all that’s left of him.”

The queen smiled, shook her head, and patted the seat next to her. “Please, have a seat. Drink some tea with me and tell me everything I need to know about Windham. I want to hear the whole story from beginning to end.”

Tarja plopped down in the cushy chair almost as if she was ready to fall asleep right there. She would nave never felt this relaxed around Rinehart. Everything about this village from its elves to its cats to its décor made Tarja comfortable enough to actually want to tell Windham’s story. She needed to, but did so in a sorrowful drone, occasionally wiping away more tears with her sleeve. Her eye still burned from the final battle with Rinehart, but puffy red was a better look on her than ashen black.

The story only took a few minutes to tell, but to Tarja it felt like she was reliving it all again. Every time she and Windham made love, every time they fought with each other and against different opponents, every tear they shed, every heart they broke, it all came pouring out of Tarja’s mouth in a trembling mess.

But instead of rape jokes and vitriol, the queen patted Tarja’s hands reassuringly and smiled her brightest smile some more. “If what you say is true, then you have no reason to blame yourself for what happened to Windham. On the contrary, the Xavier Village is forever in your debt.”

Tarja chuckled sadly, “You don’t owe me anything, Your Highness.”

“Please, call me Michelle.”

“Okay, Michelle…you don’t owe me anything. If I didn’t drag Windham back to Paladin Cross in the first place, he wouldn’t have needed Torger’s mushrooms. We all know it’s…”

Michelle Xavier put a fingertip on Tarja’s lips and said, “Enough. The blame doesn’t fall on your shoulders, Miss Rikkinen. I’ve tried to warn Windham of Rinehart’s evil ways. I tried to talk him out of lusting for that awful human’s gold. But he was convinced that our village was in danger. He obsessed over it. He took what he thought was the easiest path to earning our village money. Windham wasn’t reasonable. He wouldn’t listen. But the blame doesn’t fall on his shoulders either. Rinehart took advantage of his youth and naivety much like he does any other recruit. That’s what his business is about.”

One of the village’s puffy gray cats leapt up on Tarja’s lap and rubbed its head against her chest. For once the distraction was welcome as the former Paladin Cross mercenary scratched the critter’s ears and chin, causing a thunderous purr to erupt from its vocal cords. Michelle giggled, “Even the cat agrees that neither you nor Windham deserves the blame.”

Another vomiting spell erupted from Tarja’s mouth and scared away the cat. Instead of being angry with her, Michelle’s face told the story of concern. “Are you alright? Do you need some more tea for your stomach?”

“Nah, that’s fine. I’ve been vomiting ever since I buried Windham in the forest. Whatever it is, another cup of tea probably won’t help.” Michelle’s worried expression turned into wide-grinned happiness as she pressed her fingertips against Tarja’s stomach. The knight’s eyebrows rose as she asked, “Could it be? Is this…Am I really…Oh my god!” The two ladies hugged it out and teared up on each other’s shoulders. “I’m…I’m going to be a mother!” sobbed Tarja with utmost joy.

The embrace broke off and both women stared at each other with tearful, happy expressions. Tarja rubbed her tummy some more, dumbfounded as to what to say next. She didn’t need to say anything: her lit up face said it all. She must have gotten pregnant after the first night she and Windham made love. She hadn’t taken any blows to the stomach this whole time, so she kept up hope that the baby would be born healthy.

Michelle held Tarja’s hands and whispered, “This is wonderful news. But where will you raise such a beautiful child?”

Tarja sighed and tucked her head to think about it for a minute. “You know…I’m probably not welcome back at the Paladin Cross dorms. My old town is all but dead to me. But…I don’t want to impose on anybody. If I do find a place to call my own, I want to earn my keep. I will work harder than I ever have in my life.”

“You’re more than welcome to have the child here in our village,” said Michelle with a lovely smile. Tarja made a flat tire noise in an attempt at protesting, but the queen placed a fingertip on her lips yet again. “It’s like I said before….for the joy you’ve given Windham during his final days…the Xavier family is forever in your debt. You’ve more than earned your keep, Miss Rikkinen. Come…join us.”

Despite Michelle Xavier absolving her of blame and responsibility, Tarja insisted on giving back to the village that took her in. She picked vegetables and fruit. She helped plant even more of them. She snuggled with and fed the many cats that curled up beside her feet. She counseled the other elves as they grieved over Windham’s death. Throughout the next nine months, Tarja Rikkinen felt like she finally belonged somewhere. Not one dick joke was made. Not one act of violence was committed. Not one dangerous drug was taken. Everybody kept each other happy, just like all extended families should do.

The nine months had drawn to a close and Tarja’s belly had grown significantly. She could no longer wear her metal armor as it was too restricting. Instead all she needed was a white dress not unlike the one Michelle wore quite frequently. A splash of water dropped to the bottom of her dress and the pains in her stomach amplified tenfold. The elves rushed her over to the medical hut and laid her down on one of the feathery beds. Tarja screamed and breathed heavily while the elves gathered around her, Michelle included.

The torturous pain surged through the mother’s body, causing even more thunderous screams to erupt from her throat. Just a few more pushes. Just a few more deep breaths. Just a few more minutes of agony. After what seemed like forever, the distinct cries of a little baby had filled the medical bay. Tarja’s eyes dampened as she held the little bundle of joy against her chest, allowing her to suckle on the mother’s breast. The entire village shared her tears and smiles. Some of the cats sneaking around the forest hopped up on the bed and licked both the mother and daughter with sandpaper tongues and lawnmower purrs.

Nobody entertained the thought of Paladin Cross potentially filling its power vacuum after spending all of Rinehart’s money. Nobody dwelled on the misgivings of Shelly Atwood, Torger Manson, or Orpheus Rinehart. Today wasn’t about the death of a nasty three-headed dragon. It was about one person and one person only: Naomi Susanna Rikkinen, a young lady who would no doubt grow up to be as beautiful and golden-hearted as her mother. Windham would have loved to see this, to be the father of his daughter. Maybe in the next life, Windham. Maybe in the next life.


THE END

Beautiful Monster, Chapter 20

The Paladin Cross soldiers stared at each other like monkeys doing a physics problem. “Free?” a young warrior named Jarrod replied. “Free? Free to do what? Rip out your other eyeball?” This got a cheer from the crowd. “Free to gangbang the shit out of you until your vagina is bleeding barrels?” Another wild cheer. “Free to yank your spinal column out of your asshole? Oh wait, that’s impossible because your asshole is too tight and you don’t have a fucking spinal column!” Yet another wild cheer, this time with whistling and wolf calls.

“No, you fucking imbecile!” retorted Tarja. “You’re free from Rinehart’s iron tight grip around your ball sack. The fact that you made all of those disgusting threats to me, Jarrod, suggests just how poisonous of a human being Orpheus Jackson Rinehart really was. Hell, me making that joke about your balls shows he’s rubbing off on me too. He successfully brainwashed each and every one of you into believing that vulgarity is a social norm. It’s not. And if you ever need proof of that, think of how your own wives and daughters must feel when they’re around you.”

Only a handful of soldiers lowered their weapons and backed away slowly at that statement, all of those particular ones with wedding rings around their fingers. “Hold on a second!” belted Jarrod. “You’re not actually buying into what this slut says, are you? Rinehart spoke the truth and we should all thank him for that! Seriously, why are we talking about this shit? Let’s just jump her right now!”

“We’re talking about this because that’s what logical people do, you fucking moron,” said Tarja. “Think about this for a second: you’re actually singing the praises of someone who’s no longer alive and no longer capable of telling you what to do or what to believe. The only reason he was able to get away with it for so long was because he paid you all handsomely. We all became overnight aristocrats under his hire. Well, who’s going to pay you for all your hard work now?”

Another microcosmic minority of soldiers lowered their weapons and stood down, but the circle around Tarja was still thick with iron masculinity. Jarrod scoffed, “So in other words, we’re all unemployed because of you? Bitch, you just put an even bigger target on that back of yours.” That got a cheer from the remaining soldiers.

Tarja’s forehead dripped with sweat, some of it getting in her bad eye and stinging it to high hell. Despite the excruciating pain thumping in her head, she refused to look weak in front of a crowd of men who could swarm in and kill her at a moment’s notice. She knelt down and picked a ring of keys off of Rinehart’s belt before dangling them in front of everyone like a cat toy.

“So it’s money you want, huh?” she asked rhetorically. “Well, it’s probably not a big fucking secret to everybody here that Rinehart was born with a silver spoon in his sloppy-jowled mouth. His parents were high ranking politicians, so he naturally had well over enough money to start his own mercenary organization. Well, aren’t you at all curious as to where he keeps all of that precious coin? I’m sure most of you have been in the basement of the cathedral at least a hundred times to collect your pay. These keys unlock the vault in which all of his precious belongings are stored. All of them.”

Jarrod burst with sarcastic laughter, doubled over, and clapped several times before straightening himself. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Once again, you’re trying to weasel your way out of a beat down, this time over a ring of fucking keys!”

“You don’t believe me? That’s okay, you don’t have to. You can live in poverty all you want, I don’t care. But if you’re going to live in poverty, you might want to consider what you’re going to do for the few gold pieces you do earn. Sure, you could freelance your way to success, but who’s going to hire a bunch of angry men who can’t even figure out who the new leader of Paladin Cross is going to be?”

Two or three more soldiers lowered their weapons and backed away, yet the crowd remained large. “Goddamn it, you guys!” shouted Jarrod while pounding his sides like a small child. “You’re doing exactly what she wants you to do! She’s just a murderous bitch who’s trying to get out of what’s coming to her! Did you all forget what she did to Christian Savage? He was just like us! One of the guys! And she just tossed him through a fucking window and killed him! You’re telling me you’re going to let that slide?”

“And what exactly does it take to be one of the guys, Jarrod? Huh?” asked Tarja with a razor sharp tone. “I’ve heard the stories from Windham right before he drooled himself to death. He wasn’t on a reconnaissance mission and neither were any of you! Rinehart sent you there to be tortured and raped because he thought it would make men out of you! Well, it doesn’t look like any of you are tougher for the experience! You’re just putting on this front so that Rinehart won’t call you a faggot or a pussy! Well, Rinehart can’t call you those things anymore because he’s fucking dead!”

A few more soldiers stepped away, one of them with a tear rolling down his cheek. The crowd looked relatively smaller than usual, but Jarrod wasn’t having any of it. He threw a profanity-laced hissyfit while pounding the ground with his fists. A taller soldier with a Mohawk named Daniel patted his shoulder and said, “Come one, let’s just take the keys and get out of here.”

Jarrod grabbed hold of Daniel’s trench coat and shouted, “No! No! No! Nobody is going anywhere! Nobody is taking a stupid ring of keys! Nobody is leaving Tarja to skip away Scot free! For god’s sake, look at her! She’s all on her own! She doesn’t have her boy toy to back her up anymore! She set traps for all of us hoping we would die! You’re going to reward her for that?!”

“If someone freed you from psychological slavery, wouldn’t you reward that guy too?!” blasted Tarja. “I’m sure a lot of you who went up to the North Country would have loved it if someone rescued you from that nightmare. I know Windham would have loved it. But he didn’t have anybody like that, so he had to rescue himself as well as anybody else who would have gone up there to be raped and tortured. Instead of chastising him, you all should be thanking Windham for what he’s done for all of you. Paladin Cross was a shitty work environment and even the toughest of the toughest will tell you that!”

Jarrod threw another temper tantrum and pounded the ground some more. “I can’t fucking believe you people are falling for this shit! This is the oldest trick in the book!”

“Fuck you, Jarrod, I want some gold!” belted Daniel before smacking his “comrade” in the back of the head, putting an end to the child-like tantrum. “Tarja, hand me the keys and we’ll be on our way. I could use a permanent vacation.” Tarja tossed the keys and Daniel caught them perfectly. Several remaining soldiers tried to yank them out of his hands, but he held them sky high and yelled, “Come on, everyone! Drinks are on me tonight!” The soldiers cheered like wild animals as one-by-one they filed out of the forest, leaving Jarrod there to throw another fit.

“If it’s any consolation to you, Jarrod, you can loot Rinehart’s body to see if he’s holding back anything else from you. You look like you could use a smoke.” Pointing at her bum eye, Tarja said, “Well, I happen to know he’s got plenty of cigars and matches in his belt.”

“Shut up, you fucking con artist!” snapped Jarrod as he leapt to his feet and grabbed Windham’s whip, lashing it several times on the ground for intimidation purposes. “Rinehart was a leader! A genius! He had everything figured out and you fucked it up for everyone, all because your dead boyfriend was too much of a snowflake to keep it all on the inside!”

“We’ll see who the snowflake is!” said Tarja as she and Jarrod engaged in a brief battle for supremacy. Jarrod flung the whip around like he didn’t know how to use the damn thing. He was no Windham in any sense of the word. He ripped chunks out of trees and the dirt road, but was way off target as Tarja’s footwork was too much for him. She then cracked Jarrod across the groin with her staff and sent him into crying fits. She then smiled at him and said, “Get a job, punk!” before knocking him unconscious with a solid blow to the skull. He might have been more than unconscious judging from the blood pooling in the back of his skull.

Tarja pulled the whip out of the limp Jarrod’s hand and surveyed the landscape. Not one soldier came back to help their fallen “friend”. They were all mercenaries until the end, caring more about coin than comrade. The truth never made anybody free. It was only doubt that brought those men psychological emancipation. Without Rinehart there to suppress their doubts, the freedom came easily. Tarja looked down at the fat man’s corpse and muttered, “Rest in peace.”

Her moments of strength had dwindled upon seeing Windham’s lifeless, foam and blood-covered body lying on the ground. She knelt beside him and cradled his head in her arms while tearfully repeating the words, “I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry! It should have never come to this.” Her final words to him were punctuated with a small amount of vomit covering her boyfriend’s chest. She wiped the acidic taste out of her mouth with her sleeve and wiped it off Windham’s chest as well.

Tarja gazed down at the remains of her lover and couldn’t stop the tears from flooding her eyeballs (or what was left of her right one). He looked nothing like the pillar of strength she once knew. Those moments of crying didn’t make him weaker; they made him stronger and more believable. He refused to conform to toxic masculinity and he paid the price for it.

It wouldn’t have been right for Tarja to leave his body lying there, so she went to work in digging a hole with her hands. The blood and foam from both corpses had softened the dirt a little bit, so digging wasn’t much of a chore, though it did take longer than anticipated. Tarja cradled Windham’s body in her arms and set him gently down in his new resting place. She kissed his forehead one last time and said, “Goodbye, my love” before closing his widened, bloody eyes with her gentle fingertips. She hurried in covering Windham with dirt until he was completely buried beneath the earth. Tarja dropped to her knees and wept some more for her fallen lover.

During her moment of sorrow, she threw up a little bit over the grave yet again. She justified her sickness when she looked over at Rinehart’s corpse with vicious eyes. Such a contrast the two dead bodies were. Rinehart looked pitiful in death, probably because he believed his own hype about heaven and hell and went to the wrong place in the afterlife.

Tarja wiped the tears from her eyes and lifted him up like the man baby he was. She then dropped him down a steep hill and watched his chubby ass roll and bounce off rocks and trees. His body was already broken beforehand, but now bones were disconnecting from his body and scattering all over the hillside.

Tarja gave him one last sneer before grabbing Windham’s whip and walking away. Just one last order of business for her. Somebody needed to know about Windham’s journey and hopefully telling his tale to that somebody wouldn’t be nearly as taxing as telling it to an uncaring Rinehart.

Beautiful Monster, Chapter 19

When the bonfire died out and the morning sunlight beamed through the cave entrance, Tarja couldn’t tell if Windham was dead or simply just sleeping. She knew he wouldn’t be around for this battle to come due to his horse injuries. It was one woman versus an entire company of Paladin Cross soldiers, who no doubt wanted her blood smeared across their armor. They may have had her grossly outnumbered, but two things they didn’t teach at Paladin Cross very well were ingenuity and creativity. Those attributes required independent thinking, which Rinehart was never a big fan of.

Tarja whispered, “I love you” to Windham before planting a kiss on his unconscious forehead. Maybe he would wake up, maybe he wouldn’t. But this wasn’t the time to breakdown and give up. She grabbed her satchel full of massage oils and “went to work” on the forest around her. Paladin Cross knew about her past as a massage therapist (hence all the happy ending jokes that made her shudder). They would most likely use tortured pit bulls to try and sniff out her scent, which was why she went around the forest and lathered peppermint and jasmine oil over various traps she set. She secretly hoped none of the traps would endanger the animals, but was cautious enough not to let those hopes get too high. Poor things.

This elaborate plan took a half hour to complete and Tarja didn’t know exactly how many Paladin Cross knuckleheads would fall for the traps. Did she set enough? Would it buy her enough time to get Windham and herself out of there in one piece? These thoughts raced through her mind over and over again as she crouched underneath a bush near the cave where she left Windham. Referring to Rinehart, she said under her breath, “Come on, you frog-eyed, leather-faced motherfucker, show yourself!”

She didn’t have to wait long to listen to the sounds of metal boots clomping across the ground and dogs sniffing the air around them. Tarja poked her head slightly over the bush to see the forest swarming with Paladin Cross warriors, all of them with dogs leading the way. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer to whoever was up there that the soldiers didn’t find her location. The sounds of dogs snarling and men barking orders at each other grated her ears. Her heart thundered in her ears while sweat poured off of her one trickle at a time. This was what it was like to try and outrun the past. Goddamn it, where were those mushrooms?

“I found her!” one of the soldiers shouted. Tarja gasped deeply, but only to find that the soldier and his dog were snared in a leather net. The soldier panicked while his dog went ape shit and chewed through his skin like a rare steak. “Get off of me! Goddamn it, dog!” he whined in vain only to have his throat torn out by the traumatized dog.

Soldier after soldier fell victim to their dogs’ confused searches. One soldier had wooden spikes jammed in his face, causing the dog to flee in terror. Another soldier had his chest caved in by a swinging ram. Another fell into a deep hole covered with leaves. Yet another had his ankle snared in a rope that hung him upside down. The dogs finally figured out that the jig was up and barked relentlessly while blazing around the forest. The screams of trapped soldiers only worsened their anxiety, along with the remaining soldiers. There still looked to be quite a few of them.

“Fuck the stupid dogs!” shouted a familiar authoritarian voice. “Spread out and find those two bitches! They’ve been playing us all along!” With a sense of urgency, the soldiers drew their weapons and scattered across the forest blindly searching for their targets, the scents of massage oil most likely giving them bigger headaches than Rinehart’s voice.

“Bingo!” whispered Tarja as she spotted Rinehart standing back while his underlings did all the work. The obnoxious leader thought this would be a good time to roll a cigar and start puffing away. “Typical,” Tarja said to herself while shaking her head. She wanted nothing more than to bash his brains in with her staff, which in her mind wouldn’t create too big of a mess. But patience was the key. She laid low and allowed the soldiers to dart around all over creation while trying to avoid the wrath of scared dogs and any other trap she might have set.

After a while of men screaming like warriors while others screamed bloody murder, Rinehart found himself all alone in the forest enjoying his cigar. “Keep it down, you low-grade morons!” he shouted. “I’m trying to have a smoke here! If I have to burn down this whole fucking forest to shut you faggots up, I will!”

He loved that F-word a little too much, Tarja thought to herself. While Rinehart’s men were trying to outrun their own fates, Miss Rikkinen tiptoed from tree to tree with her wooden staff primed and ready. The fat man looked so oblivious, lost in the enjoyment of tobacco blackening his lungs. All the more reason for Tarja to get closer. Another tree. Another. And another. She could feel her heart thumping yet again, but this time for the excitement of finally cracking her former boss across the skull with one stiff shot. That’s all would take. But then in trying to steady her nerves with a shallow breath, she took in too much smoke and gave her position away with a cough.

“Why you little bitch!” grunted Rinehart as he threw a bladed punch towards Tarja’s face, only to have her dodge out of the way. The Paladin Cross leader ripped the punching dagger out of the tree and started throwing more wild haymakers. Tarja blocked every punch by whacking the boss’s fingers with her staff. The fat man didn’t care if his knuckles were red; he kept swinging anyways.

It was Tarja’s turn to attack as she swept low and whacked Rinehart in the thigh, doing minimal damage and earning little more than a sadistic grin. The bladed punches came faster and more frequently and Tarja’s blocks and dodges came slowly enough to earn her a gash across her other cheek, to match the one given to her by Christian Savage. The drops of blood sent wild heat through Tarja’s veins as she gave several staff shots to Rinehart’s ribs and back, also to no avail.

She went for a kill strike to the dome only to have her weapon hooked. Rinehart pulled her closer and stamped out his fiery cigar in her right eye, causing blistering screams to erupt from her vocal chords. She dropped her weapon and rolled around on the ground holding her wound, tears of pain sending heat waves through her head. She secretly wished for a visit from the angel of death, the pain was so agonizing.

“You should have stuck to giving hand jobs on massage tables, sweetheart!” growled Rinehart as he leaned down with his fist raised to the sky. “I got to be honest with you, pumpkin: hell doesn’t smell like lavender and peppermint. It smells like shit. It smells like blood. It smells like dude nectar. If you thought Windham had it rough in Shelly’s castle, oh-ho-ho-ho, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Goodbye, you dirty slut!” Out of her one good eye, all Tarja could see was a sharp fist crashing down upon her.

In between ashes and dead memories, out of her bad eye she saw a leather whip flying by and lashing Rinehart in his own eyes. His face nearly exploded with bloody pain. Screams resulted in splashes of crimson color all over Tarja’s already fucked up face. Breathing intensely in between moans of pain, Tarja rolled over and saw Windham standing there in little more than leather pants and bare feet.

This was an entirely different Windham than she was accustomed to seeing. This was a frightening, insane Windham with foam oozing from his mouth in shades of white, beige, and red. This was a demon on earth with red streaks pouring down his eyeballs and nose. This was a beautiful monster who seethed and growled like a grizzly bear waiting for its next meal. Tarja wanted to close her eyes and shut this version of her boyfriend out, but the cigar stain hurt too fucking badly.

Instead she watched Windham finish the job on Rinehart, whipping the fat man’s now exposed back with vitriol in his every word. “You sold me out!” TWHACK! “You wanted me to fail!” TWHACK! “You hate everything about me!” THWACK! “I martyred myself for you!” THWACK! “I built my life around Paladin Cross!”

The whiplashes came more frequently and in more violent volumes until all that was left of Rinehart’s back was a volcano of blood and shattered bones. Needless to say, he was dead from excessive blood loss. Some of that blood puddle oozed towards Tarja’s mouth and she felt like puking at that moment.

She lifted her head up and saw out of her good eye Windham dropping to his knees and shaking badly. The foam in his mouth poured like a Zen fountain. The blood in his eyes pooled up to where his face almost mirrored his victim’s corpse. When his chest finally hit the ground, he shook even harder, prompting Tarja to fight through her eye pain and sit beside him. She rolled her boyfriend over and tried to steady him.

“Windham! Windham, don’t die on me!” she begged and pleaded. “You have to fight, damn it! You have to fight for us! Don’t let a couple of fucking mushrooms do this to you! Please!” The elf’s back bounced against the ground the more Tarja tried to stabilize him. “Fight for me, Windham! Fight! Don’t you fucking die! Wake up! Wake up, you fucking idiot!” Except he didn’t wake up. The convulsing eventually stopped and the rest of Windham’s foam flowed out along with the blood in his eyes. He was motionless on the ground without a single parting word for his girlfriend. He finally got what he wanted: permanent peace from the hell in his mind, but at the expense of his life.

“No…No…NO!” shouted Tarja as she pounded Windham’s chest in her own emotional version of CPR. His heart wouldn’t restart. His loving thoughts wouldn’t come back. His body stiffened while his soul departed this world forever. All Tarja could do was lay her head across Windham’s battered chest and unleash her tears despite the ashes that invaded her vision. The black tears had become more disgusting to her than Windham’s red ones.

“Any last words, honey-bunny?” said one of the many soldiers that now surrounded the sorrowful Tarja Rikkinen. All of them had blades drawn. All of them had sadistic stares on their faces. All of them could pounce on her at a moment’s notice and shred her to pieces.

Tarja stood up and faced these warriors not with fear, defeat, or sorrow, but with conviction. She furrowed her eyebrows at them with no attention paid to the burning sensation in her right eye. The pain of losing what she loved was more agonizing than a cigar to the face. As far as she was concerned, the angel of death was her new romantic love. “As a matter of fact, I do have last words.” She kicked Rinehart’s dead body over to face his now sullen soldiers. “You’re all free.”

Goodbye Maggie

***GOODBYE MAGGIE***

Tomorrow afternoon, Dale and I are going to the vet to put our dog Maggie to sleep. She has lived to be sixteen years old, much older than normally expected for her breed. During the final moments of those sixteen years, she’s had a litany of health problems that justify euthanasia. She was blind, deaf, weak, incontinent, physically unstable, and an all around sick dog. She’s constantly in pain and there’s only so much we can do for her before having to make this ultimate decision.

Maggie came into my life in 2005 when her owner, Dale, married my mom in his original home state of Wyoming. She was accompanied by another Springer Spaniel dog named Molly. The two of them would bounce, play, and wrestle happily together all the time. Maggie’s favorite toy was a blue ball that she would fetch while Molly’s was a leather Frisbee. I’ll always remember Maggie and Molly getting in a tug-of-war over the Frisbee and Molly would get an unfair advantage by shaking her head.

Three years ago on Father’s Day, Molly passed away due to lung cancer and it was a death that hit all of us hard, especially Dale. Three years later, here we are again in the month of June having to watch Molly’s adopted sister Maggie be put to sleep. Sixteen years. Sixteen fucking years and it’s all over. Given her declining health, it was a foregone conclusion, but that doesn’t soften the blow that our family will no doubt feel.

There isn’t a whole lot left to say except for goodbye to our elderly ray of puppy sunshine. Rest in peace, Saggy-Maggie. You will be missed dearly.


***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“If they say who cares if one more light goes out? In a sky of a million stars, it flickers, flickers. Who cares when someone’s time runs out? If a moment is all we are, we’re quicker, quicker. Who cares if one more light goes out? Well, I do.”

-Linkin Park singing “One More Light”-

Beautiful Monster, Chapter 18

Windham’s vacation into the psychocosm was short lived. He slowly opened his eyes only to wince them shut again as the pain in his spine and ribs echoed throughout his body. Bonfire aside, warmth and weakness dragged his body down like he was sinking in quicksand with an anchor around his legs. The simple act of breathing felt as though he had taken a battering ram to the gut. It took him a while to get a sense of where he was at, but he eventually made out the shapes of a rock ceiling and moss-covered walls, all of which was dimly lit by the bonfire he laid next to.

“You’re awake. Excellent,” said a calming feminine voice. Windham couldn’t turn his head to see without sending more pain throughout his diseased body, yet he could already tell that beautiful voice belonged to Tarja. He felt a cool, silky hand touching his forehead followed by, “You’re definitely burning up. I’d say it’s mushroom withdrawal. Either that or they were no good to begin with. If that’s the case, then you don’t have much time.”

Windham’s rapidly beating heart sank beneath him like a cannonball. “You mean I’m going to die?”

“I’m not sure what it means. It could be that you’ll sleep this off and be fine in the morning. It could also mean that yes, indeed your time is limited. That’s why you and I need to talk right now and make the most of this opportunity.” Tarja laid Windham’s head in her lap and stroked his blond locks, relaxing him even further without putting him to sleep.

She said, “The truth is, Windham, what you did in that hotel room was despicable. I’ll never condone it. Awkward behavior aside, you put your life and your sanity in jeopardy by eating those mushrooms. Having said that, even t though I don’t agree with it…I know why you did it. I’m not sure I would have done the same thing if I was in your position, but I understand it. Then again, I’m not in your position. You took those mushrooms because you were hurting and they took away the pain.”

She ran a cold wet rag across his face and bare chest while talking to him some more. “If it’s any consolation to you, Windham, I’ve been doing some thinking and…I can’t help but think at least some of this is my fault. I was too interested in keeping a job I have no love for, so I threw you to the wolves, as you rightfully put it. Had we just continued to journey south and bypass Commander Rinehart altogether, maybe the results would have been different. Maybe your recovery would have been much faster. But we’ll never know.”

Tarja tossed the rag aside and ran her fingers through Windham’s hair once again. She said, “I don’t know how many real relationships you’ve been in, but I’ve been in quite a few, with both men and women. Every person is different, but the one thing all relationships have in common is that the fairytale eventually ends and the problems begin. Sometimes the problems could be solved. Sometimes it was better just to end it all. What’s your opinion on all of this?”

“What’s yours?”

“Well, I’m of the belief that even though we’ve only known each other for a short time, what we have together is definitely worth fighting for. I threw another human being through a window. You’ve lashed the shit out of a bandit. I think I saw Kody Savage lying in a pile of horseshit on our way out of the stables. We’ve proven a lot to each other in just a short amount of time. It would be insane to give up on it now. However...I am going to ask you one question and if you answer dishonestly, I won’t think twice about ending our relationship. Where did you get those mushrooms in the first place?”

“They were Torger’s.”

“Is that why his brain is always fried?”

“Must be. After I smashed his ribs in with the table, I lifted the mushrooms from his belt. I purposefully omitted that part of the story when I told it to Rinehart. Like you, I also was too concerned with keeping a job I never liked. It’s actually kind of peculiar that using drugs is a more serious offense than burning down somebody’s castle.”

Tarja smiled at the irony and said, “I agree completely. Besides, it’s not as if Rinehart hasn’t dealt with drugs at least once in his life. Have you seen the size of the cigars he smokes? Sometimes I can’t tell if the cathedral is on fire or if he’s huffing and puffing away.”

Windham gave a flat tire laugh at the joke.

“See?” said Tarja. “We’re making progress already. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but a little bit goes a long way. But that’s just one side of the coin. It’s one thing to be able to laugh at corny jokes with minimal effort. It’s another thing to tap into your emotions completely. I need to know if you can still do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…if the night we were robbed was any indication to you, you know what I’m about to ask you for. I need to know those mushrooms haven’t totally rotted your brain out. Sure, you’re coming down from the high, but given the fact that you’re ill…and that you were foaming at the mount and crying blood prior to me rescuing you…I need to know just this one time.”

“You…you want me to cry for you? You want me to give you my tears again?” The thought of it sent an anxious tremor throughout his body.

Cupping Windham’s face in her hands and gazing into his eyes with sympathy etched on her face, Tarja said, “You’ve done it before, Windham. You’ve given me much more than just tears. You gave me your body when it clearly didn’t belong to me. You gave me your smile when you were still hurting. Now I need your tears again. You trust me with your feelings, right? You should. It’s okay for you to go to pieces.”

Windham tried to laugh off the request and said, “Give me a break, Tarja. I’m not sad right now. I can’t be when I’ve got my head in your lap and…”

Tarja shushed him and started kissing his burning forehead…and his cheeks…and his ears…and the tip of his nose. She even sang to him in that lovely voice of hers. “When I see you smile, I can face the world. Oh-oh, you know I can do anything. When I see you smile, I see the ray of light. Oh-oh, I see it shining through the rain. When I see you smile at me. Baby, when I see you…smile.”

Windham fought the urge like he was trying to survive against an army. His eyes burned as hotly as the rest of his body. The blood vessels in his pupils thumped and reddened. He even closed his eyelids in a vain attempt to block whatever was coming. But this was one war he would always lose. The sound of Tarja’s voice, the gentle kisses on his face, the fondling of his hair…he couldn’t take it anymore. The tears came naturally and quickly slid down his cheeks, providing a temporary cooling sensation.

The elf pounded the ground with his fists and screamed like the warrior he was as he cried. “This sucks!” he shouted. “This fucking sucks! I hate my emotions! I fucking hate them!”

Tarja shushed him yet again and said, “Blasphemy, Windham. Any form of pain is an indicator that you’re still alive, even emotional pain. Being able to feel the way you do is much better than being numbed out to it all. You never needed psychedelic mushrooms. You just needed to open your heart. You will get over this one day, Windham. I know you will.”

Even though his arms were screaming with soreness, Windham managed to wrap them around Tarja’s neck and head in a romantic, sobbing embrace. She hugged him back and allowed the tears to stain her. She turned her head and pointed downward before saying, “Um, Windham, you’ve got a little bit of a…problem…”

The agony in his neck be damned, Windham titled his head up and screamed in horror when he saw the bulge forming in his leather pants. He tried to scoot away, but his body was too tired and too broken to move even an inch. He did the next best thing and covered his hard-on with his hands, despite the fact that Tarja already knew it was there.

She smiled at him and shook his head before gently removing Windham’s hands from his pants. “You don’t need to be ashamed of it,” she said. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked already. If you weren’t sick right now, I probably wouldn’t mind one last night of fun.”

“This is so fucking embarrassing.”

“I know it is, sweetheart. I know it is….Actually, now that I think about it, there is a way we can pull this off.”

Windham’s face reddened as Tarja slipped off her boots and socks while rifling through her bag for a bottle of oil. Trembling in fear, he asked, “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

“I figured you should get to experience it at least once on your life. Besides, you told me earlier that this was one of your favorite things to fantasize about. Now, close your eyes and let’s make it happen.”

As Tarja slipped Windham’s pants and underwear around his feet, the elf’s face grew even brighter, sickness aside. With closed eyes per his girlfriend’s request, he could feel the oil being squirted over his genitals haphazardly. Once a liberal amount was applied, what might have been his final night on earth ended with the world’s most amazing foot job. If he was going to die, he might as well die with happy tears instead of depressed ones.

Cracking Under Pressure

VERSE 1
You dragged me out of my comfort zone
And left me there to breakdown alone
You wanted it to go wrong from the start
All I’ve got now is a broken fucking heart
It’s never about creating strong citizens
It was always just an over-hyped idiom
You won’t lose a second of sleep over this
While my dreams are full of vinegar and piss

VERSE 2
I cracked like a shell underneath the pressure
All for your ego and sadistic little pleasure
I’m not the diamond you’ve always wanted
I’m the ghost that leaves the world haunted
Next time when you throw me in the deep end
Give me some oxygen on which I can depend
Don’t tie a cinder block around my ankle
And send me to live with the fucking angels

VERSE 3
Is that what you call opportunity right there?
This is what I call too much to fucking bear
A nervous wreck with a noose on my neck
You put it there to keep my ass in check
I can’t calm down with you hovering over me
Singling me out like I’m the weakest link
I’m sending you my two weeks notice today
Maybe I’ll choose right now to fuck away

FINAL VERSE
You can call it coasting while proudly boasting
That I’m the only one you’re fucking roasting
Thanks for the life experience, you jackass
Not like you’ll experience any of the backlash

Beautiful Monster, Chapter 17

“You stupid motherfucking goddamn son of a fucking bitch ass motherfucking faggot piece of shit…” The curse words poured from Windham’s mouth like hot lava as he mounted Kody’s chest and slammed him against the ground over and over. The eldest Savage brother could do nothing in return but howl and cry like a Disney cartoon character.

“Hey! Keep it down in there! Some of us are trying to take a shit!” belted Rinehart from beyond the door.

Windham temporarily ended his assault and gazed down upon his stupefied victim with wide, bloodshot eyes and gnashed teeth. His mouth was still covered in foam and now the tears pouring down his cheeks were hot red, painting a masterpiece picture of psychopathy across his face. “You heard him, Kuddles. Keep it down so that he doesn’t have to come in here and shut your silly ass up!”

“My name is Ko…”

“I know what your name is!” shouted Windham. “Don’t worry, Kuddles, it’s still fresh in my mind. I have it memorized for the day I carve it on your fucking tombstone! But until then, buddy boy, you’re going to do me a big favor. You’re going to be my path to freedom from this retched hellhole. But first…first! We’re going to give that pretty little face of yours a little bit of color!”

“C…color?”

Kody didn’t even have time to formulate his next thought as Windham rained down stiff, sharp elbows upon his forehead, blistering his face and opening a monstrous gash that dribbled and drooled delicious fluids. They were so delicious that Windham gave Kody’s face an animalistic lick before smacking his lips and declaring, “Tastes like chicken shit!”

“You’re…y-y-y…you’re crazy!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment! But now’s not the time to kiss my ass, no, no, no. If you don’t want to lay six feet deep beside your dear old brother, you’re going to have to cooperate with me and get me out of here. And I know just how we’re going to do it. Get up, Kuddles! Get the fuck up!”

Even after Windham stood up and pulled Kody to his feet, the massive blood loss raining down his skull caused the Savage brother to stumble and slur his words. The elf didn’t know if the slurring was a combination of a concussion or Kody choking on his own pouring blood, but either way, he smiled at his handiwork with pearly whites stained only by another man’s life juices.

Windham spun Kody around and would have knocked him over if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around the bastard’s neck and put him in a neck-snapping chokehold. “Come on, you Kuddly-Klown! Let’s go for a walkie-walkie!” The two of them trudged through the darkened interrogation room while Windham threw open the door and had the mercenaries on their feet with weapons drawn and stunned faces.

“Stay back! I said stay the fuck back!” roared Windham. “You let me out of this motherfucker or I swear to god I’ll snap this dude’s neck! The stables are somewhere around here, right? I want a horse and I want to get the fuck out of here before I have to spend another minute listening to dick jokes and sex poetry!”

“You heard him, boys. Stay back! We don’t want any trouble! Stand down, now!” ordered Rinehart as he extended his arms like they were actually going to barricade his own troops. Nonetheless, they lowered their various weapons and backed up slowly, giving Windham a clear path towards the back exit. But not before Rinehart vainly said, “You’re making a big mistake, Windham!”

“No, you fucking moron! You made the mistake of selling my dick to that slutty vampire whore and her brain-dead step-spouse!”

“Think about this for a minute, Windham!” said Rinehart. “You have no chance of freedom out there. Once you think you’ve gotten far enough away from us, we’ll hunt you down like a pack of wolves. We’re mercenaries and bounty hunters, not necessarily in that order. We do this kind of thing all the time. Do you really think you’re going to gain anything here?!”

“Silly bastard! You’re asking the wrong question! The question isn’t whether or not I have anything to gain…It’s whether or not I have anything to lose. And the way I see it, you took it all from me, Rinehart. My mind, my soul, and my livelihood. To the best of my knowledge, you’re also responsible for Tarja’s disappearance. You drove her away, Rinehart! You’re the one who caused her to throw Christian Coalition through a fucking window!”

Slurring through his bloody face, Kody absentmindedly said, “His name is Christian Sav…”

“Shut up, fuck stick!” snapped Windham before punching his victim in the kidney, causing him to scream like a cartoon character once more. The two of them edged towards the back door some more, but stopped immediately once Rinehart formed the slightest smile on his pudgy face.

Windham reacted by throwing a back kick into Jamoke #1’s nut sack. The obese soldier dropped his ether and rag before tumbling to the ground himself. “You ain’t going to pull that shit on me twice!” proclaimed the elf. “Hey, Kuddle Muffin! How does that saying go? You’re the one who knows this stuff!”

Stumbling and coughing through his words, Kody said, “Fool me once…shame on…shame on you…you’re fooled and you can’t get fooled again?”

“Close enough. Come on, let’s go!”

Windham dragged Kody through the back door with Rinehart and company following close by, yet keeping a respectable distance. The horse stables weren’t too far away, but the stable attendants preferred to be even more distant as they hightailed it out of there, arms flailing and fear echoing out of their lips.

Taking a few seconds to browse the stalls, Windham found the horse he usually liked to ride and said, “Bingo!” He kicked open the gate and got a few wooden splinters on his heel, but he didn’t mind. Getting rid of his dead weight, he tossed Kody into a pile of horse shit and allowed him to bleed out (he wouldn’t have lasted long anyways with the amount of blood flowing down his face). Not even bothering to throw a saddle on the horse’s back (Windham was in a big fucking hurry), Windham jumped on the animal’s back and rode out of the stables yelling, “Yah!”

Before Windham could taste the sweet air of freedom, Rinehart blocked his path and threw cherry bombs at the steed’s feet. The loud crackling startled the beast to where he bucked up and down and neighed in a thunderous voice. Windham held onto the horse’s neck for dear life, but the animal tossed him sky high and flipped him over. The elf landed back first onto the cobblestone ground and heard a few bones crack louder than the cherry bombs. Windham screamed in total agony, unable to squirm around without pain ripping through his every muscle.

The uncaring Rinehart knelt beside him and unsheathed a punching dagger, his weapon of choice. Raising his bladed fist into the sky, Rinehart’s parting words to his fallen victim were more of the same traumatizing BS Windham already got sick of. “When you wake up at hell’s gate, you can tell Shelly I said hi and that I miss her. Fuck, you could probably tell that to Tarja, for all I know! Goodbye, queer!”

Rinehart raised his fist a little bit higher and attempted to bring the blade down upon Windham’s throat. But there was no connection, only a booted kick to the side of the corpulent boss man’s face. The crazed and terrified horse had already been shoed away, but a brand new horse would take its place.

Windham’s eyes had grown blurry from the bloody crying and psychotic expressions, both of which were exacerbated by the pain that flared throughout his spine and ribs. By the time he squeezed his eyelids open and closed to get the juices out, he was already being jerked up by the arm on the back of the horse. A familiar feminine voice told him, “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here! Yah!”

The elf didn’t have time to process everything as even more voices were boiling up with shouting rage behind him and the rider. The remaining soldiers brought their steel blades and their incendiary attitudes, but the horse’s legs were much more powerful as the animal carried Windham and the rider to safer grounds.

Despite Windham slipping in and out of consciousness, he still maintained a death grip around the rider’s waist while the rider herself held his arms with utmost tightness. The horse’s defiant speed bounced them up and down a few times with a few threats of falling off again. But those threats were nullified as soon as the soldiers’ voices grew quieter and more distant. Before he could pass into the dream world, Windham found it in himself to say…

“I missed you, Tarja.”

Define Me

VERSE 1
Out of the darkness and into the light
Got a brand new lease on my own life
No longer will you define my happiness
With over the top dramatic campy shit
If you choose to walk past and ignore
I choose not to agonize about it anymore
I’m the only one who defines who I am
My high self-esteem is my business brand

CHORUS
Never again will I defend
Bringing my sanity to an end
Never again will you define
What goes on in my damn mind

VERSE 2
Sex is a battle and love is a war
Fighting’s all that shit is good for
Don’t need your seal of approval
Mark that shit for its removal
Sick of trying to impress you
Of you berating the things I do
I got my own soul, go get yours
Then walk on right out of the door

EXTENDED CHORUS
Never again will I defend
Bringing my sanity to an end
Never again will you define
What goes on in my damn mind
Never again, never again X2

VERSE 3
I don’t mean to be bitter or stone cold
I’m just not a hostage for you to hold
I’m not a prisoner of your expectations
I’m the leader of my own destinations
Don’t need to be thin, don’t need to smile
Don’t need to chat bullshit for a while
Don’t need to spend money on shiny rocks
Won’t be defined by the needs of my cock

EXTENDED CHORUS
Never again will I defend
Bringing my sanity to an end
Never again will you define
What goes on in my damn mind
Never again, never again X4