the train was late today,and it was always early. this was the first part of my day that left me questioning why my usual routine was being obstructed. little did i know that at that moment the word ''obstructed '' would not do any justice in describing how much this day was just ...diffrent. yeah that will work, just extrordinaraly diffrent. The day was an anomaly or the true definition of an unparrallel pattern. my name is marshall palmer. i am a that guy that walks into a room says nothing ,and nobody notices but that is my comfort zone. When people are forced to step outside that comfort zone there instincs take over...we become primal beasts trying to survive.


sleep deprivation was not a good way to start that steaming july morning. something was preventing marshall from sleepning. a restless night that included relentless tossing and turning. the product of insomnia maybe. the period of adrenaline soaked in his vains was impisoning him, there was nothing he could do about it except go for a walk. that decsion would be the one that would change his life forever. one small insignificant choice to stay from his culvisac to a blood drenched misteak. marshall was never a guy who was drawn to trouble but what any body whould call a pretty decent guy. ''this is just god damn bullshit he cusses at his sleep disorder grabs his pajama bottoms and slips them on over his boxer shorts.and walks out his one bedroom apartment.

the sun has not set yet but there is still a humid feel to the air outside. marshall desends into the darkness and mutters more profanities and goes on his way. walking a long the wet morning grass along the river bank, a movement captures marshalls eye turning to a large dark object floatng on the river bank. he is drawn to it by curiosity when he reaches it, he figures it to be a log or rock, but he reaces out to touch it and it was soft.... peeling off the first layer he realizes it is a blanket or sheet when it is completly removed he discovers the floating object is not an object at all... it is a person and they are dead.

in a complete stunned state marshall falls to his back and stares at the corpes and looks at it then he realizes the dead body is familiar though mutilated, those facilal features are all too rcognizeable he is a man but who is he? marshall studies the clothes the lifeless body is wearing a plain white shirt and pajama bottoms... then looks down at his own clothes they are bloody too the man he is looking at is ...is himself? but how ?marshall begins to run he run as fast as he can from the dead body go back home and sees that his apartment is taped with the words cation what ? he stumbles backward seeing a poster of him on his door saying, missing. iam not missing he yells to himeself iam dead!

starter

the people with wings glistened across the gleaming sunset, sung there enchanting melody .
this is the last phrase i ever heard before the accident. while both peaceful and smooth it is also haunting my inner child. a man robbed of his boy hood beacuse of mere accident, but in life there are not suppose to be any accidents.every thing has a purpose.... but what is mine ?

horror.

horror screen plays since first originated in the early nineteen twenties ,the horror industry has amassed billions of dollars titillating the senses of its viewers. the feeling of fright has always appealed to the human demographic and will continue to do so, but what is it that keeps people coming back for more? think about it only weird people dint love horror movies, the adrenaline that you get when the movie goes quiet and you know when somebody' s about to get slashed . Its pure and absolute pulse pounding excitement
while the years go by i have understood movies as fantasy worlds and can jump you into a new kind of reality and that is truly amazing but horror epics are dark, dreary and most of the time repulsive and offensive, but that is what appeals to this generation. we are an era that feeds off of havoc and gore. hopefully we wont advance to more brutality in Hollywood but that is what is happening while i think its very amusing it is also interesting. you remember the days when a blood spot would splatter across the wall? such as psycho it left it to your imagination ha ha not much now a days ,does that any more .....
so where does this fancy for brutality come from ? the deepest recesses of our minds ? our inner child hood? deep dark fantasies? or ooh better our primal urges in full throttle? well i am afraid that it is not that complicated or fun ,its simply marketing genius. blood sells and people are emotionally perturbed and can relate to dysfunction. in such a world were ''cool'' can be defined as Paris Hilton getting her head pulverized by a sharp pole shrapnal, is utterly amazing not that iam complaining by the way.

''ocean tide''

A lone girl is sitting on the mosit sand gazing into the ocean with a single tear rolling down her cheek comes into view ...with hair as red as the distant glow of the setting sun ,and a pale almost silk skin complextion. her mouth heart shaped, and a lush pink. you see this is jenifer. a girl most teen age boys fall in love with at first site . the sun is now in almost full site expelling the rims of light on her gental face obviously full of hurt.

Jenifer;
Deep ocean breezes tend to lift my spirits but not today..





a man with a large surf board comes running across the cold sand in a frantic manner . jenifer snaps her attention to the disrurption to her thoughts as he ru ns pasther he accidently kicks sand near her face
Jenifer ;
Hey watch it asshole !

The man tall and slender with dirty blond and brown hair just over his eyes. he stops almost automaticly seeing Jenifer

guy
wow i am really sorry about that. i didnt see you there oh my um iam sorry about that i didn't mean to bumb into umm....any one this beatiful

automaticlly changing her tone noticing his face... its familar

jenifer
um excuse me ...do i know you from somewhere?

guy
hey names allen hardwick

they shake hands

jenifer
jenifer lewis you look really familiar iam pretty sure i have ...

poetry try 3. holiday

ringing bells upon the night so sweet
oh a delux feeling such a treat
frosty mist in the air
singing beacons a familiar stare
winter seasons rejoiecing in our lives
families round about giving love
power of joy all the days
overcome with happines and passion
is the holidays.

''science fiction try 2

as the blurry picture sets to a visible view.... i saw the futer in its eyes .this child holds the key to the salvation of our planet. the androids will be coming soon and my sacrifice will not be made in vain, the i have fought in the revolution for sixteen years now and they will surely kill me once the have found what i accomplished. my mission is completed as i put the childs vessel in the space time accelerater. ''hehe'' i wealky chuckle to myself as the child is now perfectly safe and a new hope for the human race is born .....goodby shawn. screeching androids come blazing acrosss the town gunning at me with there plasma heated pistols, the burning flames peiceing my flesh tearing my insides from my back ''where is the child ''! the androids sream in there dead robotic voices. facing there wepons at the back of my head . talk human or i will terminate you, on of the ten or so androids says to me. realizing they will kill me anyway, i turn around and say what child? then burst into laughing and detonate my kamakazee bomb under my belt. the revolution has begun.

''stranger '' draft 2

as jason seeths in his own vomit he sees her face .... '' holy hell'' he says to himself not again. three years ago i was involved in the most horrific day in my young adolesent life. right before my eyes my own mother was murderd and brutally raped in cold blood. well as you can tell i am obviously not your avarage teenage kid....fueled by anger ,despair and hormones a new personality was born through a schizophrenia state deep in in the root of my mind. Thusly a new sick evil and twisted charcter that reflects my inward most feelings about my past comes raging out reeping absolute terror upon the unsuspecting world..no...no... NO!!!!! as jason slowly attempts to fight the sickness but it is no good. it is strong... stronger than it has ever been, his head is throbbing and pulsating his fists and jaw are clenched. it has begun. darkness. while in my mind i see the true essence of who i am is apperant but these wrethced feelings of hate and dispair i tend to thrive on, live in and kind of sickly i...i love them.

''stranger '' draft 1

as the dim sunlight gently settlles in the poorly lit one bedroom apartment jason windborn calls home, a wave of nausea in the pit of his stomach over comes him . as jason turns away from his matress onto the floor he vomits violently.'' aw man another glorious day'' he mutters to himself. its been like this for the past couple of months, a pang of sickness comes to him from his horrible nightmares of that day as he kneels with his head to the floor facing his own vomit he cant help but paint the picture in his head one more time.......