The Farm

The Portrait

The Lamb

Christmas At A Gas Station

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go."

"Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front.. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead.

"You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ones ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered that the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.

"None for me," said the officer..

"Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop reached for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to him, "we got 1 too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."

George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man stopped crying, and looked at the cop "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." he said.
 
"Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued.

"Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around & found the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you'd left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.

The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus."

Jogging

It was another typical day and I had just finished dinner, moms old recipe for spaghetti, my favorite. I washed the dishes and went to my room to change into my jogging outfit. 

I was in my car on my way to the high school driving track when I heed a screeching sound. I instantly hit the brakes as a speeding car ran his red light and nearly took out the drivers side of my car. I rolled my eyes and continued on my way to the track.

Once I had my car parked I walked to the track. Apparently I wasn’t alone, and some other people were there, just lazily walking around. I shrugged and started jogging around the track, dodging each person that I passed.

It wasn’t until my third time around the track I noticed something off about the people on the track. I stopped to take a breath and started walking. It felt nice to be lazy for a moment.

That’s when I herd it. There was a quiet voice calling out my name. I looked around but didn’t see anyone looking at me. I looked harder, and that’s when realization hit me. Each of these people, had rotting flesh, and a bloody gash somewhere on their body. Frozen in horror I looked about at all the mangled faces. I stopped at one, it looked so familiar. Another long look and I realized why, “MOM!?” I yelled. No, it couldn’t have been my mother. She died in a drunk driving accident two years ago. But there she stood, a bloody gash in her head. 

I screamed and she looked at me, I couldn’t hear it over my screams, but I could tell she called out my name. I was so scared that I started running. I had to get out of there, so I ran to where I parked my car. But my car wasn’t there, “FUCK!” I yelled, and started running down the street. 

After just a little while of running I felt a terrible pain in my stomach. Probably just some bad ingredients in the spaghetti. I looked down at my stomach in the darkness and noticed that I had a whole bunch of the red sauce on my shirt. That wasn’t my concern though, my priorities were still on running home and calling the police to report my missing car.

I ran a little while longer, taking the same route I took to get to the track, to run home. I saw flashing lights ahead and slowed down. Looking ahead I saw there was a car accident in the same place that speeding car almost hit me. I frowned and walked up trying to get a good look at the accident through the glare of the lights. Another sharp pain hit my stomach and I doubled over, but soon collected myself and trekked forward.

I herd two police officers talking, “Poor girl.” “Coroner says she died on impact.” “Most likely felt the shard of glass go through her stomach before she died though.” I frowned and walked forward, “Hey what happened?” I called out.

The two police officers took one look at me and pulled out their guns. With two guns aimed at me, my hands flew up into the air. Both cops looked terrified to see me, “What the fuck!?” One yelled, “Back the fuck up!!” The other practically screeched. I took a step back, but took a peek in the car. 

I froze in horror at what I saw. There I was. My mangled corpse sitting in the drivers side of my car. A bloody shard of glass in my stomach, and wide empty eyes starring at nothing as blood still seeped onto my jogging suit.

Days of Lovers Past

Winterfell came to me in a bright sunny day
Where innocence ran rampant
And dreams were those that held a child’s mind together
He proclaimed his love and devotion to me
In a way an unadulterated boy would
And I was taken by his sincerity
And promised my heart to him

Longsilver appeared to me not in a blaze of glory
Nor as a knight in shining armour
But as quiet as the calm of the river
Yet as gentle as the summer’s breeze
Aided me when I was lost
In a world so different as mine
Became my guidance and my eyes
Though our journey together was sudden and brief
And lost within the sands of time

Clairvoyance swept past my defenses
When Winterfell’s promise reneged
Childish and innocent, yet full of life
Clung to me like a boy would a sister
Admired me like a child would to a hero
Blossomed within my heart like a flower would to the sun
But our two hearts were not meant to be as one
As the truth struck fear to his innocence
A careless word
And he was nevermore

Treelocks appeared without warning
The years that passed since my loss of Winterfell’s heart
A hearsay among my brethren
Of his wonting heart for my own
My mind awry, my soul astray
I gave in to the hearsay and accepted him
But hearsay was all it was, a hearsay
His mind yearned for me
But his heart did not

Blueblood was a sight to behold
Made my heart a-flutter and my breath quicken
My chest would clench tight at his presence
To the point where a day without seeing him
Felt like an eternity of pain
He did not see me coming
As I professed my love for him
We became the subject of ridicule
And our thoughts were never expressed
And one memoir later
He became the one that got away

Allsouls did not possess
The humor most people have
His solemnness intrigued me
And I made it my mission
To extract even the slightest bit of mirth
From his stoic lips
The day he burst out laughing over my demise
Was the day he set my passion on fire
But it was a day too late
As he belonged to another
Still I bared my soul to him
In hopes that he would trade her for me
But my love was not returned
And my heart was never the same

Matron was an eccentric soul
Who moved to his own beat
And answered to no man
His fiery passion was infectious
And my heart went out to him before
The reigns of my mind could stop me
His flaws were invisible to me
And his downsides were nothing to me
Everything about him was a delight to my eyes
Until the day a maternal advice
Cleared the fog away
The truth hurts even though I knew
It existed all along
He was a child in a man’s body
Who could never be my own
As our bond was severed
So did my heart

Months went by
Bringing in the years
My heart fleeted from time to time
From Devonshire, who is like a brother to me
To infatuations beyond my reach
Like Baelfire, Gamesport, Overture and Illusion
From Seashell, a man who belonged to another
To pretty faces like Yorker, Rushmore and Kellenstone
Some came to me of their own fleeting
Like Evenlight, an eccentric soul like Matron
And Applejack, an outcast with a gentle soul
And a close call of a brother named Jingleton
Almost blossomed in my own volition
But in the end, all were not the right fit
Of the puzzle which is my heart and soul

Until one day
After many hardships and pain
Of my love being devoured by loneliness
And my life in a home and a parent
I call hell
Jesselton fell from the family tree of Jingleton
Onto my wonting lap
He filled the void in my life
And fitted the puzzle of my heart
He showered me with kindness and love
And fought my demons with a burning passion
He broke the walls of my prison
And pulled my soul out of the treacherous muck
He sacrificed his everything
To make me his own
And freed me from the thorns of darkness
To bring me into the wings of light

3 years have passed
With a precious diamond we created
Between us
And I will remain in this blissful warmth
For eternity and a day

The Experiment

In the summer of 2003, a pharmaceutical company created a new product in their line of sleep aid; it was an altered form of Melatonin, a natural hormone found in animals and plants that helps regulate circadian rhythms and promotes sleep. The scientists chemically altered this compound to produce faster, more efficient results, the first phase of testing of this product was done with fourteen volunteers, the first seven were given normal Melatonin, and the other seven patents were given the experimental altered version. They were to report the results every day after waking up. During the first week of results showed that the patients using the experimental Melatonin fell asleep 45% faster then the other patients, but their state of sleep was slightly different, they were entering REM sleep much faster and experiencing it much longer, and had much more vivid dreams then the other patents.

During the next week of testing two patents using the experimental drug experienced sleep walking, one reported awakening in their outside shed on a chair, disoriented but unharmed, and the other reported waking up on their couch after walking down a flight of stairs in their sleep. The next few nights, three more patients experienced sleepwalking, and the next night all patients reported sleepwalking.

The next week similar results continued, the patients with the experimental drug were sleeping longer, and much deeper; two of the patients lost their bottle and requested a new one. The next week all seven including the two from last week reported losing their bottles, they also appeared quite anguished; two large bags sunk under the patients eyes. Fearing the drug might cause memory loss or even addiction, the researchers asked the patients to set up video cameras in their houses if they wanted to continue with the testing process. Strangely, all patients agreed immediately then proceeded asking for more of the drug.

The next week the patents lost seven bottles again of the experimental melatonin. Fearing for the worst the researchers asked to view the videos. All declined except one who was absent from the group, the seventh patient was also absent from reporting the details of the drug over the last few days, any and all contact was cut off as the patents phone line was dead. An investigator was assigned to find out what happened.

When he got to the house the door was ajar, he peered in and yelled hello into the home, no reply. He took a step in and heard his shoe hit liquid. A closer examination showed it to be blood, he looked down, and a severed hand was next to an envelope. Inside was a tape. The tape contained the following message:

“No one expected me to fly, is this a lucid dream or reality? I just don’t know anymore. Such fragile times when you look into the face, when you go up to a baby and rip off its head in front of its mother just to see what happens, just to see the look on her face, and the look on my face, when I pinch myself, and pinch my hand, pinch again and again, the screaming only getting louder, the pain feeling more tangible, why wont I wake up? I can’t rip off a babies head in real life, I’m not allowed to pick up a baby, holding it so it faces down, I can’t feel the soft neck in between my hands as I twist it like a corkscrew, a cry of pain followed by swallows, followed by the gag reflex, then the crunching of the babies neck, the babies eyes look at me without expression as they fill with blood, then as I twist more the sounds of ripping and blood emanate from the babies mouth and neck, eventually the spinal chord breaks away and the baby becomes two entities, then I look up at her face, I run run run, back to my house, and wake up in my bed, was it all a dream? It was so real..”

The tape stops.

The investigator looked down again, more blood, a different trail this time, it lead to the kitchen where a severed leg and arm, or what remained of an arm, lay on top of a stool. More blood trails, leading into the bedroom, a smashed video camera on a tripod, another severed leg, and a two empty bottles, each with of a months worth of medication, were near the entrance.

The bed was in a veil of darkness, and the investigator took out a flashlight and shined it on the bed, looked a moment, and vomited. What the investigator saw haunted him for the rest of his life, no one can explain what happened or how it happened – there was the last severed arm on the ground, in it clenched tight with rigor mortis and super glue was a large sharp butchers knife. On the bed, backed up against the wall, was a body with all limbs missing, a large smile forced onto his face with needles and safety pins, eye lids forcefully opened with super glue, and around his neck through an ice pick, string wrapping around, was a babies head.

The pills were recalled and the testing stopped. The patients, after months of rehab, managed to recover from the drug.

Though in the tape, he detailed the screams of a woman after murdering her baby, no such woman ever reported her baby murdered. After DNA testing, the babies head had no matches on record.