Human vs. Dinosaurs

RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my, DINOSAURS. Why are there DINOSAURS?

RAWRWARARWRARW...RAWRAWR!!!!!

This is terrible. I am not one to be able to fight DINOSAURS. Maybe I can just run by them.

RRRRAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!

Hm. Maybe I can learn to teleport instead. Nope, didn't work. I know, I can fight the DINOSAURS!

RRRAAAWWrrrrrrr...YOUR TIME IS NIGH HUMAN!
IT IS YOU THAT IS NIGH DINOSAUR!!!
PRERAWRPARE FOR BATTLE HUMAN!


And so began the battle between Human and Dinosaur.

A Grass Hill

'Do you love me?'
'Of course I do James. More than anything.'
James smiles.
'I want to show you something.'
'Another one of your magic tricks I suppose?'
James smiles again.
'Just watch.'

James tells Rachel to close her eyes. As she is doing so, James lifts her hand up as if he were introducing her to the sky.
'Rachel, what time is it and where are we?'
'Why?'
'Just trust me.'
'It's just before sunrise and we are on the grass hill in front of your house, sitting by the tree.'
'Ok, I am going to let go of your hand now, but keep your eyes closed till I tell you to open them.'
Rachel nods.
'Rachel.'
'Yes James?'
'I love you more than any living thing should be able to love. I need you to think about the stars, the rest of this lies in the hand you are holding up.'
Confused Rachel shapes her hand into a closed fist, but she does as James ask.

'Open your eyes.'
'James...oh my lord.'
Where once there was a hill, there is now space. Where there was once a tree, there is now a star. Where there once was two lovers, there is now two heavenly bodies.

The Slaughter

The door in front of me is dark red. My hand reaches out to push the door open. I walk knowingly into the slaughter. Despite what I have been told, I stare into the face of my enemy. I fell victim to the slaughter already, I must not let it happen again.

In the darkness I feel my hands rip away from my body; the act is slow. My eyes are greeted by hot iron rods the push to the back of my skull before sliding out the back, taking what were once my eyes with them.

I should be dead from the amount of blood that I now lay in. The blood that I lay in.

'Not tonight, not tonight'
'If not tonight, then tomorrow'
'I don't want this anymore'
'You say that, but here you are again, falling down in front of me'
'...'

The slaughter will no longer be on my account.

'Come at me, I have the opportunity'
'This is not wise'
'The edges of your fingers will no longer dictate my nights. Come at me'

Sight is restored, hands rejoined, and blood is back in it's proper body.

I am armed with a sword from the heavens.
I will be the one to fight the slaughter.

Quick! The Door!

Everyone dies in this story.
There is no moment of 'almost death'. No (like I said) everyone dies in this story.
A character is not left with two arms less than he began with.
I am not lying when I say that everyone dies in this story.
There is no great hero who battles against a monster. The monster will easily kill him, and the word 'battle' would be overstating what took place.
This isn't Buck Rogers. Everyone dies in this story.
If a plane explodes, no daring parachute escapes will take place. This will be the day the parachutes are being cleaned.
Everyone does indeed die in this story.
However,
there will be a modest lead male who is slightly above average in this story.
He will come to know a nice (although eccentric) young woman whom he will later marry.
They will have a son who will grow up to be a handsome, struggling professional singer.
Later in his life, he will fall in love with an English teacher who resides in Ruidoso, New Mexico.
'Revolutionary' will be the word called to mind when people think of her.
She will befriend a pilot named Ted.

The modest lead male almost drives his car off a cliff, then dies of a heart attack.
The (although) eccentric young women has both of her arms amputated after a earthquake causes her house to fall on top of her; She dies shortly after the operation from blood loss.
The struggling professional singer, while high on LSD, thinks he sees a monster in the lake a mile from his house. On his way out to fight the LSD monster, he trips and breaks his neck on a boulder.
His English teacher wife and his revolutionary daughter, along with her pilot friend Ted, embark on a reflective journey to New Zealand. As the engines give way because of the storm, they all die because of the missing (but clean) parachutes of Ted's plane.

Everyone dies in this story.

When I say Sir Andrew must live through the world ending over and over, I do not simply mean the last hour of life on earth. Sir Andrews fate is far worse than that. He lives through evertything, from the creation of the first single celled organism, through primitive creatures just learning to walk, up to people that remind him of home and even past that to things so advanced the only thing keeping them from vibrating out of space and time is a mental link to a central tower. Each time he lives through the creation and destrution of the world, it is different everytime.

Time has lost all meaning for Sir Andrew. His name has lost all meaning. Darkness and light hold nothing more than trivial eye trickery. Sir Andrews once noble quest to destroy a demon has cursed him with this and many other things.

Even in Sir Andrew's madness and contempt for what he is, he notices that this time the world isn't dying to plague, fire, water, or man made destruction. There is a small black bubble rising from the ground in the central city whoms name Sir Andrew doesn't care to know. What Sir Andrew does care about is the fact that the people of the city are calling the bubble Erinyes, for whoever touches it is plauged with the distruction of everything that person has known.

dont ever look so inviting
dont ever look so inviting
dont ever look so inviting
my piano cant make music anymore
the room over is loud

away boy, hit the seventh chord!
subtract three and lets go ride horses

why do you always look so inviting
dont you know to never look so inviting
run run run i swear it will be ok
its beating faster isnt it?
i swear it will be ok
the pace picks up the pace quickens
hear the drums my child hear the drums!
pick up your feet its coming and i dont know why
my sweet its starting again
slowly it gains. with pace it moves.
there isnt time to see what it is behind you

the room over has grown still and nothing in this universe has ever looked so inviting

-----------------------------------

peace be with you now in this time of despair
listen to the air, for it might be all you have
even though you can not hear, even though you can not speak
do not let that stop you from taking in what is yours
it will hurt at first i bet
but it will come later if not now
stonger you have to be. so strong.
time will wait for you
time will wait for you

keep believing
this isnt empty space
it might be despair but listen to the air i beg of you

you can hear it now
no no no
dont look at your limbs, they are of more use than that
stare up. it doesnt matter, up is whatever way keeps you from looking at yourself
this is all yours
just make the first move. against death. against life
can you see it now?
its golden its crimsion its everything
touch it, it feels like snow

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i believe there are white lights on the ocean floor
below is a place man has yet to go
what is waiting for me
creatures. devils. gods.
will there be a violin
a drummer?
what else is near the white light at the bottom of the ocean floor
is it in this one moment of brillance that i can reach the ocean floor

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what if people only exsited in that moment of time that your eyes laid fixed upon them
being born without eyes would be a blessing

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it hits me awake
it keeps hitting me to be sure i am awake
i am awake! i scream it!
its not enough
i know its not enough
space feels like flesh ripping all around me

-----------------------------------------------------

to hear something this beautiful
it is enchanting
in these final minutes of eternity, it means something
i want so bad to hear the last of this song
of course in doing so i doom myself to be there for the ending
i am pulled. i am pulled right of the ground
i want the ending, i want the final moments
here in the middle if i cant even keep myself to stay on the ground
i must know, i must
what the final ending will sound like
where my body is now isnt enough
hieght above anything isnt enough
i want to be torn a part and put back together
i still have so long to go
another sound joins the fray
it really is gaining now i promise you that
why does everything feel so urgent
earth is already eons away
I AM STILL GOING
how much more of this can i take
how much
but then, but then it slows down

only to start again

joy is overflowing in me
its not so much that i was there in the begining or that i will be there in the end
my its everything that is in between

there it is!

i have made it, its everything and nothing all at once

there is nothing so wonderful

there is nothing so wonderful

nothing so wonderful

---------------------------------

tonight i will sleep with the cross in my hand
my reminder of the begining, the middle, and the end

as painos take me to sleep
as angels watch over me
we will travel together in my dreams

this is everything i ever wanted and nothing i wished for
this is my masterpiece beyond words
nothing is mine is mine, make it
force my hands to unpry and take what you need
never mind always yours

keep me here with you. i like the feeling of floating

A Marvel of Time and Space. Here, there is no Marvel. EXPLOSION EXPLoSION

First he takes the knife as he would his lover. Behind the off white mask he hides behind, I can tell he would rather be anywhere in the world. For that, I can forgive him. He wipes the knife for a third time across his apron. A finger goes up , slowly, to push back the glasses he wears. The game has begun and there is no one left but him.
He starts by pushing the loving blade down against the top of the forehead; In the exact spot he outlined 10 minutes earlier with a black marker. The edge cuts around the whole perimeter of the face before finally stopping where it began. A hand comes up to brush away the sweat on his coarse brow. He draws his lover in close, then wipes if a second time on his apron. The job is yet to be done, there are still black marker around the eyes, more, and mouth. Again he grasp his lover and moves it across the marks as if committing adultery.
Minutes later he reluctantly places the love of his life on a cold steel tray. He swear under his breath, his mask, about cleaning it off. Seconds pass that seem like years before his two hands lower toward the now seemingly mangled face.
A lite drumming motion emits from his hands on to the face. With each tap, tap , tap of his fingers, whom he teats like bastard children, the face ripples to the open seems. He makes his way up toward the cut in the forehead like he move a hand up a womens dress. He arches his back and grabs at the loose skin as hard as the world will him. He can feel his index finger with his thumb through the skin that separates them.
My vision blurs as he rolls my skin past my eyes. He takes notice of my squinting and pulls the mirror above my head in a bit closer. I fell victim to a man and his lover. I fell victim to a man and his love.