No Music, No Glory, Just Life

The sound of missiles falling through the air can be heard. Growing from a faint whine, to a screaming roar. Growing, louder and louder as they grow closer and closer. Boom. The ground shakes, buildings collapse... but that's one of the calmer things going on. All throughout this ordeal, the sounds of bullet cracks, whacks, thumps, and scratches is heard. Lifeless and robotic the mud slingers advance on their prey. Firing and leaving in their path the dead of their enemy. The sounds of maming flesh, bullets flying, civilian screams, and virgin minds being tainted with war trouden thoughts echoes through the chilled, damp night air. The smells of gun powder and burning human flesh surpass those of anything else on this night of human conflict. Whizzt. Mark Johnson, flails backwards violently, as if stricken with a sledge hammer to the shoulder, and being jerked back via a ripcord at the same time, falling over himself on his way to the ground. He thumps against the ground like cinder block, bouncing on impact, and slowly coming to a rest against a wall. The tan dust and sand blow past him as he winces in pain. Joe Patterson, a squad mate dives out of the line of fire, and down under the wall to help Mark, whom is not only his squad mate, but his best friend. Mark is crying hysterically in pain, his screams are that of pain, sorrow, love, and hate all mixed into one emotional blow so haunting to the ear, even the deaf would have hair raise on their necks. Joe kneels next to Mark, frantically trying to put pressure on Marks wound. Mark was unaware that his shoulder was even still attached, his arm hung lifeless at his side, as Joe tried to apply pressure to his wound, which was only spewing blood out between Joe's fingers just as fast and as well as Joe was applying the pressure. "eougghhh," chokingly Mark whispered the only thing that he could think about to Joe, "ee... Joe listen to me, Listen to me!" Mark flung his other arm onto the back of Joe's head, this arm was tainted in blood which started to drip down the back of Joe's head. "Joe, Tell my wife, I love her, you tell her I love her, I love her... I love her.... I want to go home Joe.... I love her...." A mixed concoction of broken sobs, squeals of pain and emotional outbursts, was a string of sorrowful notes Joe didn't want to accept. He knew now, that his friend of childhood was now going to die. At this thought, Marks hand moved to Joe's arm, he began frantically chanting Joe's name, as if yearning for him to hold on, to give him that one last stretch of life, but his arm went limp. His breathing stopped, and his eye's diolated. The sounds of bullets flying, bomb's bursting and flesh splitting stopped for Joe, the world went silent, as his eyes fixed upon his best friend's lifeless face. No music, nothing to build a mood like a movie, nothing to comment a fallen hero, there were no phonecall's to home, or any long speeche's in a "final breath." The only thing that happened was, the only thing that mattered. Mark thought about... his wife.

Lame I know... I am at a writer's block I just can't seem to pin-point why... well I can... but...

The Truth About Love

It wasn't some starlight night. It was raining. The rhtymic tapping, beating on the window was enough to drive a deaf person insane. The ambeince of thunder rolled in and out of the picture every few beats of his heart. It wasn't some candle lit dinner, or those dates set up without notice, they both knew she would be over. It was silent. No sounds except the sweet sounds of natures bliss, danced around the room, not the crackle of a fire, not even the warm glow from a candle kept them company. Sitting in a room no larger than the average living quarters of a college student, they sat, in the middle of a couch. Hand in hand, heart in heart. The only sound he can distinctly remember is the sound of her heart, the sound that filled his ears, a sound so definitive to him... it was a part of him. There was no group of people watching in the background, no party scene with fourty, fifty people running up and down the stairs. Just him and her, on a couch. No thoughts of sex dancing about, no temptations of the sort either. Just the thought of her sitting next to him was even more tantilizing than any thought of her naked. They sat quite, hand in hand, as she rested her head on his chest, he cleared some hair from her brow, and kissed her, a kiss so gentle, with so much caring, it could turn the devil christian, or siliently chant, I love you. His eyes moved from their hands, to her face. In the darkness he could make out little of her extreme details, lack there of her nose, this he could see, along with her eyes. He looked into her eyes, and she looked into his, his dark face so brawn and drawn out, he looked as if a figure in a dream. Her eyes, were so, hypnotic. Even in the darkest of rooms, they were the brightest thing he could see, in the blackest of areas, they always seemed to radiate light, and wholeness to the area. He sat back agianst the couch, and took a deep breath. This is what love is, love isn't some movie where there is always a fire in the chimney, always a candlelit dinner, always food on the table. Love is sitting in the dark. Alone, except for that other, the significant other. With the only thought running through your mind being... well... them...Hollywood drama... Bite Me.

Candy Colored Shrapnel

It was dark. A day that not many wished to be out on, a day turned to night by one of nature's furies. A nestalgic strom, something so massive and powerful, it was a wonder anyone was out at all. The birds in their nest's, the squierrls in their trees, and Michelle, in her 1990 Ford Taurus. Slowing to a stop in front of a stop sign, she takes a left onto a side road, hoping to beat the mainstream traffic on her way home. A usual thing done by most when traffic is bad. The streets are empty, and the little bit of life one the sides of the road consists of vegitation, and a few house's sprawled here and there. The steady rhythm of the rain is suddenly interrupted with a flourish of life. A dense blanket of rain began to fall. Michelle, in her early twenties, is breathing heavily and fast, causing the windows of her car to fog horribly. Frantically trying to wipe the windshield of the fog, she slips and floors the gas pedal, speeding up to a delicate 55 mph, on the wet tarmac. She rotates the wheel slightly to regain control of the speedin... wow... i really can't write right now... Basically in hollywood, what I was getting at. In Hollywood, no matter when where of why a car accident happens, there is always someone there to see it, and report it, and make some sort of notice of it. In real life, that wouldn't happen. Michelle is one of the few unlucky Americans whom, each year are casualties of faulty pressure checks on her tires, as well as inexperienced driving. Her car will spin out of control after hydroplaneing. Spinning frantically she will try and regain control onto the shift the cars movment onto a path of even more horrible consequences, causing it to flip, several times, and roll down the side of a hill, wrapping itself around a tree. Michelle will be trapped in the car, leg between dashboard and chair, arm between door and chair, wincing in pain, helpless to the situation. She will only live long enough to think about the pain she is in, and to hear the last few beats, of her heart, a casualty of what I like to call, Life.

Just Life.

This Blog is going to be another thing I am dedicating myself to do. I see so many things in movies that wouldn't happen in real life, and this is dedicated to putting the actual, "real life" spin on those things. Nothing Hollywood. Nothing Outrageous. Nothing Staged. Everything as it would happen. The uncut, the cold, the bitter, and the beautiful; Truth. I hate how Hollywood manipulates the human mind into thinking things, and we are all guilty of thinking, "well what if this happens like it did in the movies..."... come on, now your probably thinking about a relationship, you know at one point or another you have thought about something like a car accident, and all this big dramatic stuff that you would only see on Tv. We're all guilty, I for one, who would like to think I'm not, know I am. So this is not going to be something for the faint of heart, and not going to be something where "By chance" something happens.... This is cut, dry, cold, and selfish... but hey, so is life.