Remote Reality- Captive Audience

Kitchi was trapped in the back of the limo and the driver was starting to seem more and more sketchy as time went on.
       Luckily her RemCam was functioning perfectly.
 She watched it hover around the back of the limo filming each angle, and knew; this was the best drama she had ever had on the show.
     Sure she quite possibly was in real danger, but she couldn't have scripted it better if she had a team of writers.
 The limo was spacious enough for the little RemCam to maneuver and get every ounce of fear and petulant anger that she allowed her features to betray for the camera. It was dim mood lighting which would read as dark and disturbing to the audience. The fact that the driver had so far made no move at communication only added to the mystique and made his motives unfathomable.


  Kitchi knew that she could start reading off street names to the RemCam, or call the police and give specific directions to the limo, but that would make it all be over too soon, and the neighborhood really wasn't well marked.
It was a industrial type neighborhood that she didn't recognise, and they had been driving in such a complicated pattern of turns, that she thought was likely going in circles; but the buildings looked so much alike that she couldn't be sure.

  Her BlackBerry ring-tone went off and she immediately answered it, It was Boop who had been waiting for her at the mall.
   Boop and Kitteh were both in a panic, apparently the news was broadcasting footage from her RemCam. The situation was being called the Kitchi Kidnapping Krisis, and apparently they already had panels of experts in kidnapping situations lined up discussing what was to be done, what the status of the situation was and all of the news channels had vowed to run continuous coverage until Kitchi was found.

   Kitchi immediately took out her Palm Pilot and searched the Internet, there was over 10,000 hits on Google news with the search 'Kitchi Kidnapping'. This was going to push her ratings through the roof!
She might even get a network slot out of this.
Now all she had to do was to make it out of it alive, and looking like a battered heroine. She turned to the RemCam and taking her fireside chat stance (knees together, hands clasped gently to the side body slanted slightly away from camera, head tilted to camera, expression soft and slightly frightened).

"I want to thank the network news stations for taking this threat to my life so seriously.
 I know that there are other, more newsworthy topics which are being shoved to the side so my situation can be discussed.
I ask only that everyone who is watching please:
                                                            remain calm.
I assure you so far I have not been harmed in any way; other than being frightened and held captive. My kidnapper has so far made no attempt to communicate with me, and seems to be driving in circles. Maybe he doesn't even know where he is going.
I'm fairly certain that the police will apprehend him shortly, if anyone sees the limo passing them on the street I ask that you call the police, please no one try to be a hero!
 I don't know if he is armed and I don't want anyone to risk angering him. He might just let me go, and I don't want anyone to get hurt on my account!"

   Kitchi smiled, she was pleased with how calm her tone seemed and knew that she would come across as a brave hero to many. All she had to do was sit here in the comfortable limo and wait while her popularity snowballed.
   The limo came to a sudden stop near a warehouse, and the driver must have hit a remote because the loading door opened and he drove inside. It was dark, and Kitchi couldn't make out how big the warehouse was.

The driver got out and when he closed the door all of the limo interior lights went out and Kitchi was completely blind. Luckily her RemCam had night vision and she could see a very feint green glow coming from it when it engaged automatically.

She heard some banging like metal doors being clanged open and then the door to the limo opened and she surged forward trying to escape. Rough hands grabbed her arms and she was spun, lifted, tossed into the back of a shipping container. She heard the buzz whirr of her RemCam following before the door slammed shut behind her.

    She was still in the dark and disoriented, her captor still hadn't said a word. She started to explore the metal floor and walls just as she heard a engine starting and the floor slanted back and she slid back to the wall she thought was opposite the door. She felt nautious as she felt the container being moved, she did not know which direction she was going or how far but finally with a thump she felt the container stop moving and the engine faded slightly as the lift was driven back.

 She had spent the whole time focusing on her posture and facial expressions. She tried hard to keep the panic on her face at the cute level, and not allowing it to turn too pathetic. The last thing she needed was a 'Blair Witch Project' moment with snot running down her face and screaming hysterically.
                     A small portion of her audience would like to see this; it would humanize her, but the majority of her viewers thought of her as a living doll, she had to act out the appropriate responses while seeming kind of distant.
   Another engine started, this one was rumbly loud, it was probably a big rig truck. She was on the back of a flatbed she realized, or inside of a cargo truck.
  She got up, her feet spread wide to try to keep herself from falling when the truck started to roll out. Making her way around the walls she found the door and pushed and explored the doors edges with her fingers.
 The door was locked tight from the outside with no handle or latch inside for her to try to open. She explored the square circumference of the room, her fingers sliding over the cold often jagged pocked metal.

Unfortunately she was wearing a very cute but very revealing futuristic Anime girl outfit today, her thigh high boots covered her knees but her upper thighs were exposed, along with her shoulders, and her back. Every time her skin brushed the bare metal she felt bruised, scraped, and raw.

She tried to find a comfortable position in a corner: with her legs folded underneath her, she sat on her ankles.

   The RemCam zoomed in for a closeup, she could hear its motor and see the soft glow which didn't really illuminate but was the only thing she could see in the darkness.
   She turned her head away for it for a moment, lifting her hand to her face she covertly touched both of her eyes with her dry fingers for a moment.
It was enough, and when she turned back to the camera she had a single tear running down each cheek.

   "If I ever did wrong to anyone, I want to take a moment to apologise. I never meant to hurt you, any of you. I want to thank my assistant Alexi, and my interior decorator Johan for all of his hard work. My stylist Trig and his domestic life partner who does my nails.. hey Toni" She emoted a soft whimsical smile "sorry I wont make my appointment Tuesday. Boop and Kitteh and Cami and Rori and all of my BFF's you know I love you guys!" She tilted her head away again, pretending to wipe the tears and recompose herself but in reality Kitchi poked her eyes harder.

   "Mom, I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter, I tried mom and I'll always love you!" She tilted her head up looking slightly above the RemCam, her eyes pouring she did her angelic expression her eyes opened wide as she could make them Kitchi Smiled serenely as though thinking about her mother (though her mother was what Kitchi considered a trailer park whore- who used excessive amounts of PCP and Meth. Kitchi hadn't spoken with her in years).

She looked strait into the lens "I don't know what the future holds,
                                                                   I hope that Ill still be broadcasting,
but if the feed gets cut and I loose connection I just want you all to know that I love you all and I hope that I meant half as much to you guys as you have all meant to me."

She smiled softly and then curled her body up as though to get privacy for weeping although she was careful to pose herself sideways so her audience could best see her curves and made sure that her hair was cascading down so that the line of her neck would be very visible. She held that pose for the count of 60 seconds (the length of time her publicist had once said was the longest attention span of one of her fans) and then visibly dried her eyes and began to search the compartment again. That's when she realized that she had left her purse in the limo, and in it her Blackberry, and her Palm Pilot. Now she was cut off from news of the outside, and though they could all watch her, she didn't know at all how her performance was being received.

Idea of the day non profit story chain

I had a Idea for a non profit writing project wich I would do with the help of a bunch of random famous people. Im hoping for a snowball effect here with me contacting someone minorly famous getting them to agree to writing a short story and then in turn for them to get someone whom they admire/look up to in the creative field to agree to do one. It would be like a creative chain letter with the final output being something that would be published with all the profits going to charities. I was thinking of making a charity list and deviding the profits among them so that well known charities would help draw people in and some lesser known but important ones would reap the rewards.

All of the stories would have a very basic theme such as freedom. Since they all have to be in the same world we could set some basic world perameters, but I would encourage people to write different types of stories, like different genre, but each person would write with their own voice and style. It would be great to get people who arent really fiction writers to do it too, like George Lucas and Weird Al, Whoopi Goldberg and Maddonna. People who are creative and imaginative but not nessicarily authors.

I would have some rules written up before sending out the invitations to write. Here would be my rules and I will come back and edit this from time to time to update them.

1.Everyone who pledges to write must sign a agreement that their work is to be donated freely and no one gets paid all profits go to the charities, List of charities for them to sign off on etc. Expenses are paid only, hopefully publishers dont charge etc its a non profit item. All copywrites are held for future spin offs etc if we should choose to do a film adaptation for same charities etc.

2. The co-ordinator will choose the first person in the chain, they send them 2 copies of the agreement and information. The first person signs off if they agree, then contacts people that THEY ADMIRE FOR CREATIVITY (not nessicarily friends, or authors, etc. just someone they admire) and when one of them agrees to do it they send agreement to them. They tell us who they are sending agreement to, we get a contact with them and send them more info and another agreement to solicit another author.

3. There is a time limit to keep things flowing in a reasonable manner. From the point when the author gets the manuscript (from me) they can read and write their own story for 2 months. Then it must be sent back to the co-ordinator (me) for review, minor editing, and copying and we send it to the person that the last author set up to write the next story. I will have a month (hopefully I can get it out faster than that) to co-ordinate between authors and I will get assistance of a copy and line editor and be setting up a agent and publishing house etc in my free time.

4. when I get the finished storys back from all of the authors I will work on the finished editing process and publishing process and marketing distribution etc.

Heres the rough list for charities to recieve donations from project:
Free the slaves
Project prevention
Amnesty International
Laptop per Child
Kiva

Remote Reality-Good Television

   Kitchi checked her face paint on the reflective panel beside the lens of her RemCam. She had only had the thing for a few weeks, but already she couldn't imagine turning it off.  After all- her fans needed to know what was going on. If she wasn't available for view 24/7 they might forget about her and start watching someone else.

She put on a bit more lip gloss, fixed that little piece of hair in the front that kept sliding slightly askew, and winked her eyes coquettishly (her stylist said that her eyes were her best feature and that the fans had been blogging about how much they liked to see her wink into the Cam like she was acknowledging them on a personal level), then she turned and stepped out the door strait into the paparazzi flashbulb assault.

                 No time today, she walked right through them.

Her RemCam gained altitude once it was through the doorway so that it could get a overhead shot of all of the commotion.

  "Kitchi! Kitchi! Over here!" screamed one pimpled fanboi over his shoulder who clutched his archaic video camera over his head- to try to get a vid of her with himself in the foreground. She paused a split second and did her anime girl pose: dainty left hand wiggle wave, shoulders up head cocked at slight angle with chin down, eyes slightly squinted as though giggling, right hand to lips which are pursed in a air kiss.

   This pose suited her current hair style: two pony buns on either side of her head, bangs, and a long multicolored hair weave plaited down the back. She was taking a lot of style tips from Anime lately though she never actually watched any.
     She didn't really watch anything anymore, she just didn't have the time.
 What with all the interviews and dates and parties to go to. Plus she had to keep the RemCam stream interesting: who would pay to watch her sitting still for hours watching a movie? Or worse... reading a book?? Her fans were interested in seeing her out and about with her fabulous friends and watching her scandalous (though mostly PG13) affairs.

   Her RemCam was very specifically programmed to show lots of skin- but no genitalia to offend the audience. That was half the fun anyway: viewers would watch her every move hoping to get a glimpse of a nipple or a pubic hair on accident.
   The web was crawling with screenshots of supposed 'naughty bits'; though she had a team of lawyers working around the clock to suppress the badly made forgeries or even the occasional unflattering real shots (which were made with distance lenses, miniature up the skirt hidden camera's or through glass floors etc.)

   There was also a lot of fan art. Often these were hand drawn, images that were sexy and fit into her image, and she allowed them to remain on the net: even though publicly she complained that it was wrong to take her image without permission. Having amature shots of her out there: was like free publicity and it only made her more popular with the masses even though she wasn't making a profit on the images themselves.

   Kitchi got into her limo. The driver held the door while her RemCam buzzed in after her- then closed the door with a gentle click. Kitchi opened her Palm Pilot and started to look through her long list of personal messages.

   She was careful to keep the screen faced away from the RemCam for security purposes. She began her morning ritual of ruthlessly deleting email. If she couldn't remember who the person was: she deleted it. If she didn't like them anymore: she deleted it. If she just didn't want to deal with it right away: she put it in the ignore box which was almost the same as deleting it (only she could always search through her ignore box later... though she never did).
     She didn't actually read any of the messages, she just deleted and ignored the ones she didn't want, reading wasn't really her style. She typed in a quick note to her assistant to read the rest, she knew her assistant could reply to them without anyone knowing the difference and if there were any invitations her assistant would make note of when and where to be if she wanted to go.

   She had a calendar in her BlackBerry that her assistant kept updated. Whenever she didn't have anything to do, she would look at it and pick which of the many listings for that time and day that she wanted to go to. Today however: she was supposed to meet her friends Boop and Kitteh at the Mall. After sorting her messages: (which was exhausting and took 15 minutes), she closed her Palm Pilot and put it away.

It wouldn't do to spend too much time doing any one thing. People had short attention spans, and she wouldn't want her viewers to get bored and change the channel. She checked her makeup, and then went to look out the window, but was disappointed in that this wasn't her usual limo.

Her regular limo had a control panel beside the back seat for the windows. She didn't like to ride with the windows set to Reflective; this way no one on the street could see who was inside. It was bad PR to go anywhere when you couldn't be seen. She shouldn't ever have a anonymous moment.

   Kitchi looked for the intercom button, or even, the control for the partition between her and the driver. But she couldn't find any controls. Now she was beginning to get irritated. This limo must be the old fashioned kind that didn't have any controls. It didn't even have a video screen for her to watch TV. There was only a mini-fridge, and it was stocked with plastic bottles of water- not even sparkling water! She took one out and threw it at the partition.

   She knew that there was a angry pout on her face, and that it wasn't a very becoming expression on her- but this was ridiculous. She had never had such lousy service from this limo company before and she had been using them for years. She wondered why they didn't send her regular driver? He had been cute... for a driver anyway. This driver was totally new: at least she hadn't seen him before, (and after the complaint call she was going to have her assistant make) she hopped she would never see him again.

   In fact she hopped he would be fired! Or even maybe she should stop using this company. There were plenty of Limo companies and she was sure that one of them would be ecstatic to have her as a new client. Maybe they would give her the service for free if she casually mentioned their names from time to time out loud for her RemCam to stream. She could even slam the old company to some of her friends for the RemCam.
That would show them not to give her inferior service!

   The damn limo driver still hadn't lowered the partition or even acknowledged her throwing the water bottle at it. She could see the back of his head and Kitchi moved to the front seat and banged on the glass wall between them. "Damn it your not even headed the right way! I'm going to the Mall! Lower this partition so you can hear me!" She suddenly felt nauseous, he was not responding, he might not understand her but she was certain that he could hear her screaming and banging.
                                                                He was ignoring her.

  They weren't going that fast, they were in some industrial type area she was unfamiliar with and Kitchi thought maybe she should jump out of the car when they stopped at a stop sign, but she couldn't get the door open and there was no knob for the lock.
                The door would have to be opened from the outside.
 She looked around but didn't see anyone on the street, and even if she had they wouldn't be able to see her.

   She held down the control for lowering a window but it didn't work, and the moon roof's hatch appeared to be sealed with very strong glue... Kitchi even laid down on her back against the seat cushon and kicked her booted heel against the glass. She was completely trapped.

   She had to get a message out. she opened her BlackBerry and looked through her friends list for someone who could help, finally she decided to just send to all a message telling them what was happening. While she typed she sent a impassioned plea to her RemCam, it was still broadcasting to all of her adoring fans. She licked her lips subtlely hoping that her face paint wasn't smudged by her little on air tantrum (she knew her fans would love the drama of her momentary loss of control), she looked directly into her RemCam's lens.

She made her eyes soft and though she allowed some of her fear through: she kept her voice gentle and calm.

  "If your watching this out there, I am being kidnapped. I beg you to alert the authorities. Call the police, call my agent, someone please call my Internet provider! Surely they can trace the RemCam feed and pinpoint where I am. The limo was black, its a older model, gaah I don't know cars!" She tilted her head from side to side and shrugged in the signature comical way she knew her fans liked.

  She glanced out the window and back to the RemCam which had not left her face, she could see that the Iris was zoomed into a closeup. "Were driving through some industrial area: I don't even see road signs."

  Kichi hit send on her message. She then called her assistant Alexi and started to explain to her what was happening. Her assistant was hysterical and crying, she already knew.

  She of course had the live stream playing in the background. Kichi thought Alexi was being a bit of a drama queen, (She knew that Alexi was trying to get enough of a audience to start a spin off show) Kichi played it off like she was touched by Alexi's concern, but that she needed her to pull it together: to rally the fans and get their support. Glancing at the camera she said in her most moving voice:

"I hope my fans will stick by me in this time of crisis.
                          I just know they will be there for me when I need them.
No matter what suffering I'm going through, I just want my fans to know that I don't regret them.
                                           Even if this guy kidnapping me turns out to be you know a crazed stalker...
Like a maniac who has this totally unhealthy obsession with me..
                               I will keep the show going , no matter how personal and frightening this may get.
 As long as I can: I promise to keep streaming exactly what I'm going through- as it happens.
                                        I wont keep you all in the dark, I just hope that my captor doesn't shut me down!"

  She made a deliberate gulping motion, swiveled her head, brought her left hand out of screen up under the RemCam and turned it so that it panned over to capture the back of the drivers head, his eyes which were looking into the rear view mirror staring into her own.

                                                                            This was good television!

AUTHORS NOTE:
The image is actually a remote device created by NASA for space exploration. The AERCam is volleyball sized satelite and can be researched here http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2005/06/050619191628.htm
the girls picture is from http://larcho.wordpress.com/2009/03/29/tetsuwan-birdy-cosplay/birdy-the-mighty-kiguchi-aya-cosplay-028/ dont know where picture originated. (I edited two images to put them together if anyone takes offense of their use let me know and ill take it down) Story idea inspired by Tia Teqilla and other reality TV babes. Maybe Ill do a second part someday with her captor torturing her and it all being streamed live.

Lady of the Flies

 

I was reminicing today about my childhood. Remembering the wild times when I spent almost all of my days outside in the forest running amok. Specifically I thought about the battle of the gultch.

  Behind my house there was a green space and then the redwood forest began with a few wayward trees and then there was a sloped path with a deep gultch on one side wich declined sharply descending about 25 feet before hitting a fern lined creek bed. The path winded and switchbacked down to the creek and then one branch followed its course back behind all of the houses on my street.

  There was a girl on my street who was my arch nemisis. Heather and I hated each other, the cause of the anger does not matter and indeed I can not remember when it all began, in fact I think we had once been on the path to friendship when we descided instead to be mortal enemies. Her house backed onto a similar path down to the gultch and one day before school while we were waiting for the bus she informed me that her and her teenaged sister were going to come over that evening and 'kick my ass'.

  All day during classes she taunted me, telling me how much her and her sister hated me and how they were going to beat the crap out of me. I was scilent to her, I could not ignore but I diddnt give any outward sign of my reaction. Inside I was plotting my own strategy for conquest.

  I was accomplished at that tender age in the arts of warfare. I was a excellent archer, I could hit the center of my target over what was for my size a great distance. I had been in the habit of making my own whip switches with supple branches of cherry wood and a waxed cord wich I could use either to flick cans off of a fence line or to grab and pull things towards me. I dreamed I was Indiana Jones, and though my switch whips looked nothing like his ellegant bullwhip it was versitile and suited my size. I was also in the habit of brewing poisons, I had a miniature labratory wich was in reality a series of old tins, a copper kettle, and some victorian bottles (the gultch was littered with artifacts from the victorian era, including many medicine bottles) I used a fire pit to boil water to make my decoctions and infusions of toxic plants, mushrooms and perloined liquids. These toxins were in fact deadly as I knew far too much about plants at this age.  I had acess to foxglove (digitalis) for instance wich would cause heart attack in even a minute dose. I would sit for hours chopping, grinding, boiling and steeping these highly deadly plants.

  However with all of these deadly arts at my command I descided that seeing as I did not want to actually commit murder (not that I thought the world would miss Heather but that I would not like to have to explain to the authorities or even to my parents why I had assasinated two girls from my street). What I needed was not a way to kill them, but a way to scare them. Scare them to the point that they would never again plot to overtake me.

  I thought over many possibilities I needed a weapon that was perhapse not useful in its efficiency to effect damage but one that would be imposing and strike fear into my opponants. I needed to seem unstable to them, to be one who would be likely to use such weapon even though it would get me into trouble so that they would indeed believe that I was a threat.

  So I got a Knife. It was a big knife, one of those hunting knives like crocodille Dundee had, wicked sharp with a curved back tip and a serrated back near the haft. It had a sheith that could be strapped to ones leg (if one had a leg large enough wich unfortunately I did not at the time) and the handle was polished wood or bone, I cannot remember now at the time wich it was.

  This knife was formidible looking though it was not well ballanced and was cumbersome and akward.  Hopefully though I would not have to use it.

 After school I whent to my hiding spot I was croutched behind the giant redwood stump that had my tree house. A thick clump of bamboo curtained me from the other side and shielded me from view of the house. I waited for a long time, it was fully dark by the time I heard their voices coming up the path from the creek. I could see their shadows moving towards the house. I needed the lights from the house to reflect off of the knife otherwise they would never see that I was so armed and I ran the risk of them rushing me and I would actually have to use it.

    I waited until they were almost to the porch and came up behind them, I had cut off their escape and knew that once I had frightened them I would have to allow them to circle behind me to flee while still appearing to be the scary agressor and not giving ground. They were whispering and though I was close behind them I could not hear their plotting over my parents stereo. My parents were having a party or something I cant remember the occassion but I do remember that they had friends with kids there whom I was supposed to be entertaining in my room. The back door led to our mudroom wich led to the kitchen wich most likely contained my parents and or their friends so I would need to make sure that the nemisis and her sister would not feel the need to retreat screaming through the house.

  I stepped into the ring of the back porch light, and made some pithy comment. I do not now recall what it was I said, Though I made it the habit even of a early age to be insulting in such a intellegent riddling way that it would be confusing to most of what I deemed to be inferior intellects but were in fact my peers. I probably would have said something allong the lines of "You step into my web like a moth into a flame, trapped and helpless you both are ready to stick my sting in." Though I actually dont recall what I said and it might have been something entirely more mundane.

  Heathers sister got in front of her, that I remember. She was almost protective towards her sister in that moment; though she was constantly mean to her at the bus stop, in fact they always squabbled verbally in public. I was the outsider threat and blood protected blood.

  The girl was spitting out trite nasty remarks full of pale and unimpressive language that some would consider shocking in one so young. Swear words coming from her lips did not shock me then, though seeing them come out of my daughters mouth now I find them either comical or repugnant. Then though I found it rediculous and pityable.  She used swear words because she did not have the vocabulary to voice her anger appropriately or strongly enough to suit her. Yet another reason for me to use my intellect to goad her and manipulate her in the direction I wanted her to go.

   Fortunately, though her sister was large enough to concern me physically- she was not intellegent enough to joust with me verbally so I felt very superior and secure in my prowess. Unfortunately the ability to insult your opponant in interesting obscure ways never stopped anyone from getting their nose bloodied.

  The girls sister began to walk down the porch stairs and though I was making a impressive showing of the knife flashing between my hands she advanced, I retreated. They split up and flanked me; this basic strategy of attack had elluded me for wich I am now profoundly embarrassed. I had never been in a battle against unknown assailants though I had read many accounts of them in books. I was prepaired for a head on attack like infantry, they were giving me a wolfish attack from the sides.

   Im racking my brain now to remember what was said and all of the snappy comebacks as I beat my retreat as they advanced... but it all elludes me. Eventually I recall that we were positioned where I had my back at the gultch and they were between it and my house. I jumped on the log that was allong the gultches rim when first one surged forward a foot or two then the other and it made me do this weird side to side motion with my body rotating as I faced one, then the other of my two attackers even though they were still a few feet from me. I overballanced and fell backwards. My body flipped end over end, I wish I could describe the motion with my hands, I fell backwards, flipping head over heels and then grabbed some ferns and started to roll and slide the rest of the way down the gultch. I was hidden in the tall ferns (keep in mind that these are northern California redwood forests. The ferns are primeval in size, you can hide easily under one clump of ferns. The knife was gone, lost in the mud somewhere; and clearly it was of little use anyway.

  I laid under my ferns scilently untill the two girls came past me the elder was in the lead and I lept at the younger and like a wild thing scratched clawed bit and pummeled her. The older one pulled me off and at that point their plans of beating me up were over, she was more worried about getting her sister home. They were superficial scratches scrapes and bruises but I think that my wild behavior shocked them both, and they diddnt know how to deal with such ferocity. She just helped her sister up and they hurried home.

  Clearly the girl could have kicked and beaten me to a pulp, she was much bigger than I, and stronger, and probably faster. I however was the veteran of many skirmishes with my sisters. They were far bigger than either of my opponants, and had no compunctions against giving me regular and violent beatings. So pain was not a factor in my strategy. I was more than willing to be beaten, if it stopped future beatings.

These girls did not have the same level of violence in their homes, and so were shocked when it finally came down to the grim reality of warfare. The battle was over, and the next day at school I had gained a reputation for being crazy and cruel. The girl showed off her bruises and scrapes and told everyone a version of the story that painted me as the agressor in a unprevoked attack upon her. Her sisters part was never mentioned. I allowed this story to be spread without arguement because it was to my advantage. After this I was never again attacked or threatened all the way up to high school I enjoyed a reputation of violence and unpredictability.

 Authors note: If your interested in lord of the flies check this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NW4KalGfcDY its a utube clip of a deleted scene from the first B&W movie.

hungry eyes

He was my world, my life, my caretaker and my diciplinarian. Every thing I learned he taught me, everything I did was with the purpose of pleasing him or getting more attention from him. The food treats were only a reward because they came from his hands, he was my mate and every time he groomed me I felt it was a act of love.

It was from him that I learned to speak, to understand his signs and to preform the repeditive learning exercises that took up so much of our time together. I had a large vocabulary once grown, of course I did not know that it was expansive for my kind as I thought I was of the same kind he was. My large black hands with thick leathery skin were different from his, I used to hold his hands in mine patting and stroking his soft skin wishing that I was as pretty as he was, or that he was as coarse and hairy as I. I felt so grateful for his affection and wished that there was less of a disparity between us.

    It was just the two of us for the most part for many years. Occasionally he would have a visitor or two over, but they did not interest me and once he saw that I was avoiding them, and not making eye contact he would kennel me in the bedroom when they came over so I would not have to deal with them. Then when I was in my 15th year and fully a mature adult I percieved a threat to my happy home life.

  He came home late for several nights in sucession with a strange odor about him. It was a flowery scent that burned my nostrils. It smelled of chemicals and was concentrated around his neck and wrists. I did not like the scent, but I had to explore it, to try to find out what he had gotten himself into. He laughed and thought it was hysterical that I was so concerned.

  Later that week I smelled other smells on him- fishy, rank and fetid. Worse yet the smell was concentrated in his most intimate areas... areas that I was not allowed acess to. This was a female scent! There was another female there underneath his coverings and against his secret skin. I felt enraged and betrayed, some other female had invaded what was mine! He was upset by my agitation he made me kennel up and he gave me some of the medication he sometimes gave me when we went to the vets. It made me sleepy and made everything seem distant to me, even my own fears.

 He got on the tellephone and talked to someone at length, I could hear her voice from across the room it was high pitched and sounded like it came through a long tube. She was the one I was sure of it. The one who was stealing my mate right out from under me.

He brought her home with him the next night. I heard her in the hallway giggle when he came into the door. He talked to me soothingly and called me over to the coutch where he stroked me and groomed me for a while before he called to her to come in. She entered hesitantly. She was small, and she had a strong odor of flowers around her chemical flowers not the natural kind. I supressed my rage until it was just a slight vibration of my frame. My skin quivvered under his hand and my nostrils flared but I made myself emit a soft whoot of gentle welcome and nervousness rather than the screetch of anger that I truely felt.

  He restrained me while she approached, I held very still so as to not allarm them both. I would end this affair of theirs, once and for all.

  She spoke in her high squeeky voice I think she ment it to be soothing but I found it grating on every nerve.  My mate was signing the word friend over and over again. I returned the sign and held my hand out to the female she edged closer and allowed her hand to slip into mine, I was patient, waiting untill she was within reach before I pulled her hand and lept out of his arms and lept onto her face my teeth sinking into her flesh my hands ripping and pounding away at her body. I felt his hands on me, wrenching me pulling me away from my enemy. He eventually suceeded in lifting me, and carrying me into the bedroom where he slammed me into the  kennel and latched the door. He ran out, I heard screaming, banging and the front door slammed, his car drove away and the house grew scilent. I licked the blood off of my fur while the light dimmed out the window. I spent the night worrying that he would not return to me, that now that he escaped with her he would keep running and I would never see him again.

 The next morning some strangers entered through the front door, they took pictures in the living room, I could see the flash of the camera. They came back into the bedroom and took more pictures of me in my cage. I held my hand out to them through the bars, I was scared of them but at least they could set me free so I could find him. I would follow and get him to come back. To leave the weak woman behind and stay with me. The way he was ment to.

   They diddnt let me out however, they brought in a dolly and lifted the whole cage, I screamed in fear as it tilted, one of them was loading a dart pole, this was a object I was unfamiliar with, I soon learned that its pointed tip brought a uneasy painful sleep that I could not pull myself out of.

I woke up in some strange facility that smelled like cleaning chemicals, there were sounds of strange animals, unfamiliar noises like howls and screetches. There were people here too, strange people who looked in on me with cold angry eyes. I was there for days,  before he came. I was so gratefull so overjoyed to see him. But the look on his face crushed me. He was angry, I had never seen him so angry. I Signed I love you, he shook his head and turned away. A man in a white coat came then, I saw another dart pole, the man talked to him before he left. His voice was toneless, dead to me. He walked out leaving me in the cage, in the room with the man in the white coat with the dart pole. I had been sentenced to death.

 I was born in the jungles, taken as infant by men who sold me into slavery to be shipped to the man who raised me... the man I loved... the man who left me to die. If he did not love me back, why did he not allow me to stay with my mother (who had been killed so that they could capture me)?


  If he had not raised me to be in love with him, I would not have become jelous of his other female. He raised me in seclusion, to love only him. What chance had I of ever being a normal ape when I had no representative of my kind, and he did not want to treat me as a woman, a equal. There was nothing left for me but the dart and death.

new year new content

This year I made a resolution that Im going to combine my media and do more of a online comprehensive diary blog wich will contain my short stories as well as a regular post of my thoughts ideas etc. There isnt a spell check and as Im going to be writing these posts daily (hopefully) or near to it I wont be bothered to go through and edit either my spelling grammar or sentence structure whatsoever. So if you are fortunate enough to have this link read them in order by the year, you may start with this post or start with last years posts, and get a sample of my writing before you get to know me personally.
  I do not know if I will ever get a target audience. If I am writing this purely for the therapy that writing provides me, or if someday I will give this link to a friend; perhapse discreetely to my husband, or maybe I will distribute this link freely. Maybe I will turn into a internet celebrity. Then thousands of people would read these intimate ramblings of my poor wasted brain. Whatever Im gonna write it, and I dont really care if anyone reads it. Im gonna just say the shit thats in my head and hope that no one gets offended if this crap ever really gets out.
   Shit- sure my husband is a private man. Yeah he gets the heebie jeebies when I kiss him in public. Talking about our grande love affair to friends (or in front of strangers even ) makes him cringe uncomfortably. This blog is probably a violation of his trust.
 He watches Kevin Smith and Rollins on stage- describe their most intimate foibles and gross habits. They bare their very souls and show the most embarrassing secrets of their loved ones to a live stage of hundreds, to be re-released in the form of audio, video and even the tell-all novel and (what might be worse ) online blogs wich can be downloaded for free without paying a thing by anyone. ANYONE could be reading this.
  This is posted on the internet wich is available worldwide. His mother could be reading this blog. Yes some day someone could tip her off.. to casually mention to her, "By, the way Marie-did you know your sons wife keeps a online blog? Did you know she mentioned you? I took a look... and well I hate to say it but the blog is well.. rather unusual. Maybe you dont want to see it even. Some of those... well stories are, err. strange to be sure. Some of the diary parts.. are, how do I put this... A little on the racy side you know? Now... Marie, I dont want to allarm you or anything, but well if it was me, I would want that taken down you know? Would want her to remove it all because its kind of well embarassing. For you I mean. I am embarrassed for you Marie. I really hate to be the one to tell you. But you should call her right away. Call your daughter in law and ask... no Demand that she remove that tripe at once. Cause Marie the internet doesnt bellong to her you know. Its all of ours. My kids go on that internet Marie- and I dont want my kids reading that crap!"

 I guess it would go something like that.
  And then two days later there would be the inevitable phone call. Not to me, I wouldent be getting it. My beloved would. He would take out his cell phone, wrinkle his nose, go to his room, and answer his phone. He would stay in his room for the better part of a hour. There would be pacing. There would be the sound of doors opening, a snatch of conversation that I hear fade in and out as other doors close. I would hear my name, voice raised is that anger, or irritation. What have I done now? Is he really complaining about me to his mother or is he bragging to her about me? I dont get it how am I supposed to act when he comes out, smug or appologetic? Am I supposed to appologise for whatever latest shinanigan Ive gotten up to or to hang my head in shame for the "bad girl bad bad girl!" the whack of the rolled up newspaper on my smarting nose. The body posture of submission overtaking me and me sulking off to the corner to pout untill he should remember me, to call me over and to accept my humble appologies before rolling me over to rub my belly and to show that all is forgiven, you really do still love me after all... you will let me sleep on the foot of the bed after all and I can come up in your lap now for a little attention before we retire.

In fact its more likely that he will print this, he will then go over it for mishpellings and. for . its poor. sentence structure/. He will then mark on it with red pen using litterary short hand wich I dont understand because frankly I dont have a useless English degree that tells me how to write so proper. To perfectly use the sentence structure laws and how it is widely known that one should never end a parragraph in this fashon.
  What if my mom reads this. She will write me a email 4 years after I have given her the link, she will read like 4 of the posts beginnings, though she cant concentrate long enough to finish them. She will email me a letter wich tells me how fantastic and avant guard my blog is. She will remind me how I wrote a story once that was about a harpy giving birth. How very moving it was and how fantastic a imagination I had even then when I was like 10 years old. She will go on ad infinitem about how amazing I am, and then turn the conversation back to herself where she will go on and on about how well she is doing, How amazing are her friends and contacts, do I know whats happening with some friends of hers who she was friends with when I was a child but whoom I couldent give two shits about now, they werent my friends I dont know the people, understand who they are, what their goals, ambitions, desires or what makes them interesting. You might as well go into a extensive story about someone whos name you found randomly in the phonebook, how you researched their life through the internet, how they resemble you in outlook or ideals,  and how fond of them you are. I DONT KNOW THESE PEOPLE!
Then she will talk... no brag about herself for like what seems like 3 hours, telling me in no uncertain terms that her life is the best life, she is so interesting, everything is grand and perfect, meanwhile she is heading into her golden years and has litterally nothing to show for her life but grown children whom she treats like strangers untill they are completely isolated from her and from each other (or am I the only one?) and I no longer know how to relate to you. I dont know that we continue to have a relationship to tell you the truth.

  Honestly I dont know if its me, I mean I think I understand my father pretty well, I dont relate to him on a emotional level much, but then my mother was always the more emotional of the two. He is lets face it a vulcan, or a cyborg. I admire him for his consistance, and his intellect, I am fond of him and he has pretty much always done right by me, assisted me when asked, and been there to answer questions, teach etc.

But I digress and this blog is starting to sound like the kind of letter you start writing to someone, chicken out, ball up and discard so that you dont harm them or yourself with your bizzare ramblings and vent your own pain at the expense of anothers mental wellbeing.

blah, blah, blah, blah, yea 2010 hope your a better year than that last peice of crap! naw just kidding I loved 2009 really, yeah I did. Love you too hunny! And mum... you dont need to write me a angry email. frankly Im astounded if you truely made it this whole way and diddnt like read the first paragraph and the last sentence like this one before sending me the nasty email im sure to get now that Ive really gone and posted this blasted blog post online... For everyone to see... on the World wide web-what was I thinking???