Sunday, August 31, 2014

Thoughts on the Matter: Horror Stories in Fiction and Film

A great horror writer [H.P. Lovecraft] once said, "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." I agree.

While I might not be afraid of the dark itself. I do fear the things that lurk in the dark. The things that I cannot see. Fear is one the most powerful emotion that exists. We fear loss, death, pain, solitude, etc. 

I myself don't enjoy most horror films. Now when I say 'horror films' I'm referring to the monster movies, and slasher flicks. I am easily startled by sudden movements and loud noises, so jump scares basically give me cardiac arrest. Now the kinds of horror that I do love are the ones that make you think, the ones that take real life and make you think, 'oh my god, that could actually be real.'  The films that are more psychological and cause you to think. 




Cabin in the Woods is a great example of that. While it is technically a spoof of the horror genre, It combines the typical horror story with an element of Cosmic Horror. Also anything Joss Whedon has any role in is pure gold.


Horror in literature is completely different from film, in the idea that it can't rely on timing and terrifying imagery. It relies on the basis that a person's imagination will scare them more than anything else. Mary Shelly and Bram Stoker, while labeled by most people as 'Horror', in my opinion are not in my paradigm of horror as the stories don't scare me. To me they are Gothic Fiction.

Horror books to me are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, and Steven King. Those stories to me are terrifying because they make me think, or they tell the stories that discuss the perversion of the human mind.

 



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Wednesday, August 27, 2014

PSA: Follow me on Facey-Space!!!!

So I decided to make a Facebook Page for myself as a writer! I will post updates and notes concerning my writing. Also things that seem to short to post as a blog post. Also things I do with friends!  I am considering a Twitter account... but, I'm not so fond of Twitter. Stalking me is easy now! But in all honesty... Don't stalk people... thats fucking creepy...

Follow me here! https://www.facebook.com/itmoaw

All It takes are the right words....

"I have the two qualities you require to see absolute truth. I am brilliant, and unloved." ~Miss Evangelista; Doctor Who: s4e9 'Forest of the Dead

Never have I ever broken down from one line in any TV show or movie.... Fuck it stings...That is all....


A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #4

<<Previous

Warning: This post may contain mature content.
     David sat at his desk, a cigarette tucked between his lips. He checked his watch, it was 12:04. He fiddled with his lighter nervously; trying to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do. He scowled. What was Jack thinking? This is going to be so humiliating. He heard someone enter to the adjacent room. He got up and opened the door. Jenn stood in the waiting room. David looked her up and down. Her champagne-colored hair was pulled up into a loose bun. Her skin appeared as smooth as silk, her cheeks were adorned with a light blush. A hint of gold was swept onto her upper eyelid. Her bright blue eyes were outlined in dark eyeliner and her eyelashes seemed thicker and darker. Her red lips had a faint hint of gloss. She wore a burgundy blouse that was unbuttoned slightly to show a hint of cleavage. Her dark grey slacks were neatly pressed. Her stockinged feet slid into a black pair of stiletto pumps. Her coat was flung over her arm.David blinked, speechless. She looked at him.
     “So, what do you think?”
     “You’re beautiful,” gasped David. Jenn’s lips cracked into a shy grin.
     “You ready to go?” she asked.  
     “Uh.. Yeah. Sure,” muttered David, still enraptured by Jenn’s appearance. He grabbed his coat and together they exited the office, David locked the door behind them. They walked towards the elevator in silence. Jenn’s heels echoed in the empty hallway. David pressed the button to call the elevator. As they stood waiting, David couldn’t help but shoot glances over at Jenn. His eyes lingered at her exposed cleavage. Has she always been this beautiful? He mulled this over for a while. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her eyes flash and he tore his eyes away from her chest. He saw her grin; it was his turn to blush. The elevator arrived and they stepped in. Jenn punched the button for the ground floor. She probably thinks I’m a pervert. She clearly caught me staring, he fretted. He shifted back and forth in his shoes. The doors slid open and they stepped onto the street. The humidity from the morning rains caused small bead sof sweat to from on their brows. David stepped forward to hail a cab but Jenn stopped him.
     “I think I’m the one that is supposed to take the lead here,” she stated with a thin grin. David just stared at her blankly as she flung out her arm. A cab pulled up infront of them. David opened the door for her. “Thank you,” she said as she slid gracefully into the back seat. David took his seat and closed the door.
     “Where to?” barked the driver.
     “405 West Wisconsin Street,” ordered Jenn. 
     “Alright,” drawled the cabbie as he pulled out into traffic.

     The cab dropped them off outside of a nondescript brick building. David stepped out and looked around. They where in a fairly upscale part of town. The sidewalks were fairly empty. Jenn’s heels clicked on the sidewalk. She led him to a thick steel door with a intercom. Jenn pressed the call button. The speaker buzzed, and crackled to life.
     “Hello, How may I help you?” came a sultry voice over the intercom. Jenn stepped up to the speaker.
     “Yes, I have an appointment,” said Jenn.
     “Name?” 
     “Jennifer Bianco,” stated Jenn. There was a click and the door swung open. Jenn looked at David.
     “You ready?” she asked. David’s stomach churned. 
     “I guess.” 
     “It’ll be alright,” she cooed.
     “I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” confessed Jack, “I mean, how are you so calm? This whole thing is so bizarre!” Jenn turned to him.
     “I didn’t take an acting class in college,” she declared.
     “Okay,” said David.
     “I worked at a bondage club to get some extra cash,” she confessed.
     “Oh,” David breathed. Jenn looked at her feet. “We should probably head inside,” said David. Jenn nodded and stepped aside to let him in. 

     They where in a hallway. Their footsteps echoed as they headed towards the elevator at the end of the passage.
     “So a bondage club, eh?” asked David.
     “Yeah,” said Jenn, rubbing the back of her neck. David looked at her.
     “Didn’t peg you as someone who would be into that sort of stuff.” David pressed the button to call the elevator.
     “I didn’t either, at first,” she began, “It was just a job. But the longer I worked there, the more interested I got. It was exciting. I enjoyed the idea of having control.” She paused, “But that was along time ago. I’ve moved on. I quit the job at the club so I could focus on computers and hacking. I started running for a while after that.” The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. There was only one button on the control panel. David pushed it. The doors slid shut and the elevator began to rise.
     “There’s more to you than I thought,” said David.

     “I guess you could say I had a colorful past,” muttered Jenn. The elevator made a ding and the doors slid open.

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Next>>
Thank you for reading. I finally get to write David and Jenn! It's fun to write how they interact with each other. 

Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

This weeks picture is from cosplayer and model Raychul Moore.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Rubi Rascke: Runner for Hire #7

<<Previous 

     Rubi and Cal drew many strange looks on the metro; two girls wearing dark clothes with bright hair, completely soaked, and smelling of diesel and harbor water is not a common site. They got off the train, leaving a grayish puddle behind them. The walked up out of the metro station and onto the street.
     “So, To the Union?” asked Cal, “Because we missed that stop.” The pair began walking down the sidewalk. Billboards flashed advertisements in several languages.
     “I figured we would dry off and and change before that,” suggested Rubi.
     “So your place then? You still got my clothes?” asked Cal.
     “Yeah,” said Rubi, biting her lip.
     “What?” said Cal, looking at her friend, slightly worried.
     “I might have borrowed your underwear at one point.”
     “What, the white ones, with the bow, and the little grey cat on the hip?” questioned Cal. Rubi cracked a grin, her lip still between her teeth. “I’ve been looking for those!” exclaimed Cal.
     “They’re so cute!” replied Rubi.
     “I KNOW! That’s why I was looking for ‘em!” shouted Cal.
     “I washed em okay!?” 
     “Alright… As long as I get them back!” growled Cal.
     “I always give them back! It’s you who has the bad habit of keeping clothes!” reminded Rubi, “You still have my fishnets.”
     “Yeah yeah. Okay, touche.” 

     Rubi’s apartment was a small studio on the top floor of the building. It had a nice view of the cityscape. The kitchenette sink was full of dirty dishes. The apartment was nearly void of any furniture, except for the dresser and computer desk and chair. Her mattress laid on the floor next to cinderblock and plywood shelving which was crammed full of software cases, and random cords and wires. A stereo system with a record player sat next to the shelves. A pair of stereo headphones laid next to the speakers and a pair of milk crates that sat nearby were full of vinyl records; Rubi enjoyed the vintage sound of the records. A chipped metal door labeled, “WC,” opened into the apartments bathroom.
     The computer desk was the most organized part of the apartment. The whole desk was clear of any sort of trash. The 42” monitor displayed a stylized screensaver depicting what could be interpreted as a electricity running through a circuit board, a headset hung off one side of the monitor. The CPU was black with red highlights that gave off a soft glow. The keyboard was black, with backlit keys, and the mouse was sleek and ergonomic. They dropped their backpacks onto the floor near the door.
     “You wanna take a shower first?” asked Rubi, “I’ll send a secure message to Madame Loxi.” 
     “Sure, Where are my clothes?” asked Cal.
     “Top drawer,” said Rubi, gesturing to the dresser. Cal stepped up to the drawer and pulled out a t-shirt, the pair of panties they had discussed earlier, a pair of socks and some jeans. As Cal headed towards the bathroom Rubi pushed her desk chair aside and stood at the computer desk. She wiggled the mouse and woke up the computer. The screen saver faded to a welcome screen. In the bottom right corner a message read, “FalkeOS v.5.1.6” A message in the middle read, “Welcome Back, RedLady”. Below was a rectangle that read in greyed out letters, “Password???” She selected it and typed in a fifteen character password. The screen flashed “Password Accepted”. It then faded to display her desktop. The background was a green hill with blue skies and white clouds, a seldom site in the world today. It was from an old operating system from 2001. She opened up console. The desktop faded from rolling hills to a black screen with white sans-serif text.

     # app/webmail/startup/config.yml
     // … starting webmail.exe
     #message = new \secure message;
     // … preparing message input
          // transport => smtp
          // encryption => ssl7
          // auth_mode => login
          // host => smtp.dwimordene.int (secure)
     // username?
     # redlady
     // password?
     # b9-uhrxWx-Ba66f8#EHM=TT
     // login secure…
     // new message…
     # message= \swift message::new instance
     #setsubject => Run Complete
     # setFrom => redlady@dwimordene.secure
     # setTo => valar@dwimordene.secure
     # setbody => run complete. Target secured. Bring in tonight.
     # webmail/cmd: send.
     // … message sent

     Rubi ran her fingers through her soaked hair. She rubbed the tips of her fingers feeling the grease that she pulled from her hair. She made a face, shivered and wiped her hand on her pants. She looked around her apartment. She pulled off her jacket and began to unlace her boots. She tossed them to the floor and pulled off her socks. Next came her shirt, she had to peel it off her body. This joined the jacket and boots on the floor. She stood in the middle of the room in her sports bra. A series of lines mimicking the design of a motherboard circuit crisscrossed her right shoulder and a line of Cyrillic characters were placed vertically on her left forearm, translated the message read, “The sin our fathers sinned was that they did not trust liberty wholly.” She pulled open the top drawer and pulled out a can of biofoam. She placed the nozzle on her wound and pushed down. The wound stung and then went numb. She jumped when the bathroom door opened and Cal came into the room, completely dry and holding a crumpled ball of her wet clothes. 
     “Shower’s all your’s” said Cal. 
     “I sent Madame Loxi a message. Can you watch it for me?” asked Rubi. Cal nodded. She walked over to the chair, plopped down and spun around. Rubi walked to the dresser and began pulling clothes out. She headed towards the bathroom. She flipped the faucet of the shower as far as it would go. She looked in the mirror above the sink and ran her hands through her hair. Her hair was a tangled mess.The mirror began to steam up from the shower. She unbuckled her belt, tucking her thumbs in the waist band she slid them down her thin but muscular legs. A swallow was tattooed on her left hip. A spiral of branches dotted with thorns, and toped with roses wrapped around her right leg and up to her hip. She pulled of the sports bra and a gush of water that had been trapped in the spandex ran down her stomach. She stepped in to the shower and closed the frosted glass door behind her. The steaming water flowed over her thin pale body. It was an extreme contrast to the cold lake water. She lathered the shampoo in her hair and then proceeded to wash her body. She had no body hair, due to the hair removal procedure she got herself for her eighteenth birthday. When she was satisfied with her shower she turned off the water and pressed a small red button on the wall with three squiggly lines above it. Jets of warm air hit her body, and caused her hair to slap her in the face. When the air had stopped she was completely dry. She steeped out of the shower and looked in the now clear mirror. The shower had caused her eye make up to run. She squirted a clear fluid into her palm from the dispenser on the wall, and splashed it on her face. She then reached for a towel and wiped her face. The fluid had completely cleared her face of make up. She ran a brush through her hair. Once she had fixed her hair she applied a thin line of eyeliner, nothing too complex. She pulled on her clothes and stepped out of the bathroom.
     “She responded. Gave us the green light,” said Cal.
     “Shiny! You ready to go?” asked Rubi, pulling on some high-top canvas sneakers.

     “Yeah. It’ll be good to be paid,” smiled Cal.
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Picture source: https://imgur.com/gallery/EOWGauJ

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Rubi Rascke: Runner for Hire #6

<<Previous

     They crawled through the venting. They came to a grate and Cal pushed it open. They slipped into a dark room. As they stood up they squinted as the lights flashed on. As they looked around they took in rows of single motor speed boats. 
     “What the fuck? Are there boats on boats now? Fuckin’ rich people,” spouted Cal.
     “Must be boat-ception,” giggled Rubi. Cal glared at her friend.
     “That is such a dated reference,” she scolded.
     “What?” grinned Rubi, “I thought it was funny.” Cal rolled her eyes.
     “Let’s get going. I don’t like how bright this room is,” whispered Cal
     “One sec,” said Rubi, dropping to her knee and slinging her backpack to the floor.
     “What are you doing? This isn’t the time for a picnic!” Cal hissed. Rubi ignored her and began to rummage through her back. “HELLO!? Are you listening to me?” growled Cal. Rubi pulled what looked like a pair of scuba masks out of the bag and tossed on to Cal, who fumbled with it. “What’s this for?” she asked.
     “Going for a swim!” said Rubi, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. They jumped as the door swung open. Three mercenaries burst in.
     “THERE THEY ARE!” shouted one. The room echoed with gunfire as Rubi and Cal ducked behind the boats.
     “What now!? They got us pinned down.” shouted Cal. Rubi’s head spun around. She noticed the yellow and black tape against one wall. That must be access to the lake, thought Rubi. She scanned the room for an activation switch. 
     “Where is it?” she growled.
     “Where is what?” shouted Cal, her voice cracking with stress.
     “The control panel!” replied Rubi.
     “WHAT CONTROL PANEL!?” 
     “The one that opens the ramp!” said Rubi. Her voice unusually calm for their current situation. She poked her head around the boat. She pulled it back just as a hail of bullets sparked against the hull of the boat. She drew her pistol, ejected the magazine and checked the capacity. 
     “Der’mo, I only got to rounds left,” she grumbled.
     “What?! You didn’t think to to bring more!?” said Cal exasperated. 
     “Umm… No,” stated Rubi.
     “Oh you glupaya devchonka!” hissed Cal.
     “Zatknis' ! I’m thinking!” spat Rubi. The shots halted. One of the mercenaries started speaking in a harsh, ancient sounding, yet singsongy language. 
     “Hreyfa í kring. Flank thá,” commanded one of the mercenaries. The sounds of boots on the floor echoed. 
     “I think they are trying to flank us,” whispered Cal.
     “Net der'mo. How many shots do you have?” hissed Rubi. Cal ejected the magazine and tucked it into her pocket. She withdrew another magazine and slapped it in. 
     “Eighteen,” said Cal. Rubi smiled.
     “Cover me.” Rubi popped out of her hiding spot, taking the mercenaries by surprise. Cal jumped out too, pointing her pistol at the closest mercenary. He leveled his rifle, but Cal was quicker. She threw two rounds into his shoulder, knocking him spinning, to the ground. Rubi ran towards the other one. The mercenary got of a couple of shots, one impacted Rubi’s arm. She didn’t notice, the adrenaline was pumping through her blood. She tackled mercenary to the floor, knocking of their helmet. It was a woman with a shaved head and slightly pointed ears. Her eyes were two fires. She swung a punch, hitting Rubi in the mouth. Rubi tasted iron. Her jaw was throbbing. Black spots appeared in her vision. She shook her head and swung the butt of her pistol down, impacting the woman’s temple. The woman’s eyes fluttered shut and her body relaxed. Rubi heard two more shots as she struggled to her feet. Someone ran over to her. Cal grabbed her and held her up. Her blue eyes were glistening with worry. 
     “You okay?” she croaked.
     “Y-yeah… J-j-just gimme a sec,” stammered Rubi, “H-h-hit duh b-b-button.” Rubi pointed to the console on the far wall. Cal sat her friend down on the floor and ran over to the console and pressed the green button. Orange caution lights began to flash as the door began to open. Rubi sat there, her head spinning. She closed here eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths. Her head stopped spinning and she stood slowly.  The smell of the the marina flooded the room. Cal ran back over to Rubi, a look of worry on her face.
     “What?” asked Rubi.
     “You’re bleeding,” said Cal, pointing to Rubi’s arm.
     “It’s just a graze, I’ll be fine. It’s not like there’s sharks in the lake,” said Rubi with her signature sideways grin. Cal smiled, glad that her friend was making jokes. Rubi pulled on her rebreather.
     “You ready?” asked Rubi. Cal nodded and pulled the mask over her face. They stepped towards the hatch and towards the bay. Just as they had reached the edge of the ramp seven more mercenaries burst into the room.
     “Der’mo! Go!shouted Rubi. They dived into the lake. The water was colder than they expected. The heads-up display of the rebreathers showed the water tempature as 73º.The sound of bullets whizzing through the water was surreal. They dove deeper into the lake, lights on the sides of the masks flickered on. The water muffled the sounds around them. Rubi’s arm began to sting as they swam through the murky and polluted water.They finally surfaced just outside of the marina, about fifty meters from a beach. They pulled of their masks and collapsed, breathing heavily on the littered sand. Rubi crawled to her friend, and pushed her cardinal locks behind her ear.
     “Told you we would be find,” smiled Rubi.
     “Yeah… Yeah you did,” grinned Cal, “But I’m not using the zip-line again, poymite?

     “No promises," smirked Rubi.
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Once again, Sorry about the god awful translations! I figure that the languages would change around and evolve so they wouldn't be completly accurate. I would love to have accurate translations but I don't have the contacts yet. Maybe when these stories get published! *fingers crossed*

Picture Source: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/226/7/a/incognito_shadowrun_6_by_pressf7-d6i4r35.jpg

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Sunday, August 24, 2014

The Dream


The tapping of the raindrops on glass gave away to the pulsing roar of the surf. I looked around. I was on a beach. I was barefoot, the sand was still warm from spending the day basking in the sunlight. The sky was darkened by storm clouds. The sea was grey as the waves crashed on the sand. Wind thrashed across my face. As I looked down the beach, I saw a shape wash up. Curiously I began to step towards the form. As I approached the scent of rotting fish filled my nostrils. I had to cover my mouth to keep from expelling the contents of my stomach onto the sand. I was close enough now to see that the shape was human woman. Seaweed was wrapped around her limbs, minute crustaceans skittered over her body. Her skin was pale and wrinkled; she had obviously been in the water for some time. The body was turned away from him. I stooped down and rolled the body so I could see the face. I recoiled as the head lolled to face me. Instead of the human face that I expected, a great maw was before me. A trapezoidal cavity, with two thin fangs extending from the bottom jaw towards the nose. Rows of tiny pointed teeth surrounded these two fangs. The eyes were like a pair of obsidian orbs, staring blindly upwards. Flaps of skin, which could only be described as gills were positioned on her neck. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Suddenly I was underwater, something was pulling me down to the abyss. I could see the light fading. I opened my mouth to gasp for breath, but water rushed into my lungs. My vision began to fade and I knew no more.

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Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Something I Realized While Being With Friends

Alright. Here I am once again. Home from a night of socialization. I feel annoyed, confused, disappointed, and a couple of other feelings that I can't name at the moment. Ever since being diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, I have become increasingly aware of what I do, say and think. Unfortunately this has caused my thoughts to race, and to give me a lot of stress.

Am I talking to much? 
Should I ask about them? 
What should I ask? 
What if it is a touchy subject? 
Maybe I should shut up now. 
But I want to tell someone about this idea/story/world I came up with.

This is the truth of my life. A constant whirl of questions and thoughts. I often come to the same idea or sequence of events, "When can I go home? How to I dismiss myself. I just want to be alone." It's terrible because I want to be with these people... but I don't understand them, and they don't understand me.

Realization? I am an outsider among outsiders.

My friend's are the folks that are typically branded as geeks, nerds, eccentric, bookworms, weirdos, etc. But even though we share so much in common, They cannot begin to imagine what is happening in my head and I can't comprehend what is going on in theirs. Thus my realization...

My mind works on a whole different level of insane, which out comes the stories that I publish here and those that I don't share. A level where I see a problem and I see a solution or method that no one else sees. A level where I see details that no one else noticed. I tend to only consider my own ideas, never taking into account what someone says. How could they match up to my perfectly calculated plan? I see the world so differently to everyone else, how could I consider what someone else says? They are obviously to dumb to see the truth that is right in front of their nose. IT'S SO CLEAR! SHUT UP AND LISTEN AND LOOK! CAN'T YOU HEAR IT!? CAN'T YOU SEE!?

No. No you can't because you cant even begin to think like I do; to see as I do. But I wish you could. I wish for one day, you could look at the world from my eyes. If only... Only then you could understand... Only then you could realize why I do what I do. It's not something I can turn on and off. Though I wish I could.

I do not focus on the negative side of it. Which appears to be how it comes off as. I only wish to explain. Explain how I feel. I love who I am. I can do things that you can't imagine. I just wish to share. But what's the point of sharing if you can't understand.

You should definitely go check out this article: 10 Things You Should Know About "Aspies" It might provide some idea how I work.


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #3

<<Previous

Warning: This post may contain mature content.

    “How do you expect to get in?” asked David, “Assuming they are like every other escort service, they will be extremely secretive of their client list, and dealings with said clients.” Jack flicked the ashes off his cigarette.
    “You’re right. Hmmm…” he muttered thoughtfully.
    “You could use the badge, like you did at Grove Towers,” mentioned Jenn.
    “That wouldn’t work. They would demand to see a warrant,” mentioned David. Jenn pouted, and turned back to the computer. They sat in a thoughtful silence.
    “We could pose as someone looking to visit the dungeon,” suggested Jenn. The two investigators shared a look before turning to their blonde secretary.
    “That could work,” replied Jack. He looked at the computer screen,     “It looks like they cater to both sexes. David, How about you and Jenn visit Mistress Joy, posing as a couple.”
    “Alright,” agreed David. Jenn blushed.
    “Since it appears that this is a business is run by women… Jenn, why don’t you make the call. Do you think that you could pull of the dominant character?” asked Jack. Jenn’s cheeks were as red as a cardinal as she nodded.
    “What? You have got to be kidding!” protested David, “What are you going to do then?” 
    “I’m going to take the flash drive to Cordell. See if she can determine the location of the computer these pictures are from,” replied Jack.
    “Is that possible?” asked David, still annoyed with what Jack was saying.
    “Yes, each computer has a unique IP address. It’s kind of like a human fingerprint, assuming that the computer wasn’t a corporation computer, the address should be imbedded into the files,” spouted Jenn. They both looked at her, amazed.
    “It’s decided then!” said Jack, “You and Jenn will go to the dungeon? Is that what it’s called?” he asked, looking at Jenn. She nodded and Jack continued, “And I’ll pay Cordell a visit. Jenn, Give them a call, alright?” Jenn nodded and David scowled at the decision. “Don’t be such a baby,” said Jack as he pulled out his mobile phone and headed toward the office. He closed the door, and stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray. He typed in Cordell’s CommAddress. The phone began to beep steadily. There was a click as the call connected.
    “Good Morning darling,” came Cordell’s voice.
    “Morning,” grunted Jack, “Are you free tonight?” 
    “Yeah, I have Thursday’s off,” replied Cordell.
    “Do you mind if I stop by?” 
    “No, Of course! What time?” 
    “Let’s say five? Does that work?” 
    “That would be perfect!” quipped Cordell.
    “Alright, See you then,” drawled Jack.
    “I look forward to it!” exclaimed Cordell. Jack hung up.


*****
    Jenn picked up the phone on her desk and typed in the CommAddress listed on the website. David looked at her from across the desk. Her cheeks were burning. I hope that he hasn’t noticed, she thought.She took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ears. She pressed the call button on the phone and the phone began to ring. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She jumped when the phone connected.
    “Hello, Thank you for calling Mistress Joy’s House of Pain. How may I help you?” came a sultry voice. Jenn cleared her throat.
    “Yes, I was wondering if you had an opening today. My very naughty boyfriend and I would like visit. We are new to the scene and would like discuss a possible future arrangements,” said Jenn with a smooth and commanding tone. David was taken aback by the sudden switch of voice. 
    “Let me check,” said the woman on the other end, “We have an opening from one to four. Would that work for you?”
    “Yes. Of course!” replied Jenn.
    “What is your name so I can mark you on the schedule,” asked the woman.
    “Jennifer Bianco,” stated Jenn.
    “Alright. We look forward to meeting you!” said the woman. 
    “As do I,” said Jenn. She ended the call and set the the phone on the desk. A she cracked a thin smile. 
    “Where did that come from?” said David, his mouth agape. This brought Jenn crashing back to reality, blood rushed to her cheeks.
    “Oh… Uhh…” She scrambled for words, “I took an acting class in college!” she spouted quickly.
    “Okay,” replied David, “So what time are we going?” His voice was full of dread.
    “We are scheduled to meet at one,” informed Jenn. She spun around in her chair, stood and grabbed her coat off the peg.
    “Where are you going?” asked David.
    “To get ready,” she stated. David looked at his watch.
    “It’s barely nine!” exclaimed David, “You need five hours to get ready?!”
    “I have to get into character,” explained Jenn with a grin as she pulled on her coat.
    “Alright. If you say so,” said David nervously.
    “I do say so,” she said as she stepped out of the door.

----------
Next>>
So, Due to life getting in the way, I might have to miss a few weeks for this story arc. I will try to post each new issue every Wednesday. I apologize in advance!

Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source: http://acertaincinema.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Veronica-Lake-apple-41.jpg

Monday, August 18, 2014

Hardboiled Writing Exercise

     It was a dark night. The rain was coming down like all the angels in heaven decided to take a piss at the same time. I sat in my office, cigarette in one hand, a glass of scotch in the other. There was a knock on the door.
     "It's open!" I call. The door swung open. There she was. She had gams that any dame would kill for. Her lips were red like blood. Her clothes where modest, with a hit of sin. the top few buttons of her blouse were undone, but not enough to see anything. She looked like a working class gal. Someone who had grown up on the streets.  She walked in, her hips swaying like pendulum.
     "Are you Dexter Mutt, the detective?" she asks. Her voice was silk. It takes me a minute to respond; I was imagining what she looked like underneath her clothes.
     "Yeah, thats me, and who are you?" I say, leaning forward.
     "I'm Lilith Vixen, I write for the pulps."
     "What can I do for you Miss Vixen?" I ask, intrigued.
     "I'd like to ask about killing," she said plainly. I raised my eyebrow.
     "Why don't you have a seat," I say, gesturing to the chair in front of my desk. She nodded and sat daintily in the chair, smoothing her skirts. I pulled out the bottle of scotch and a glass. I pour her a glass and give myself a refill. She clutched the glass in her thin fingers.
     "Thank you," she grinned.
     "So what do you want to know about killing?" I ask, taking a swig from my glass.
     "What's a good place to bump someone off?" she asked, setting the glass on my desk and pulling a notebook and a pencil from her purse.
     "Any where dark, A back alley, a warehouse. Preferably somewhere where where no one will see." I puff on my cigarette. "Or you could do it quick. Speed by in a car and fog him with your typewriter." She jotted what I was saying down in her notebook. Something about her writing got me excited; probably because as she leaned forward I could see down her shirt.
     "Alright... So why would someone kill?" she said, looking up at me. I adverted my eyes, so she didn't catch me staring.
     "Well all sorts of reasons. Greed, revenge, lust, struggle for power; just to name a few." I answered. She scribbled that down too.
     "Well thank you Mr. Mutt. I think I have everything I need." she said, tucking the notebook back into her purse.
     "No problem." I grinned as she stood. I was eager to check out her backside as she left, "Might I ask. Who's your dead man?" She grinned and pulled a sub-nosed revolver from her bag and pointed it at me.
     "Why you, of course," she said. Damn. Should have seen that coming. Dames always bring trouble...

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Frozen's "Let It Go"- Why It Resonated With Me

I recently watched Disney's Frozen for the first time. The movie struck home for me. Something about Elsa's story just grabbed me. I saw elements of myself in her. We all know the song "Let It Go". There have been dozens of parodies and fan versions. But when I heard it, the lyrics had a deep resonance. So I thought I would go through the lyrics and highlight the parts that for me in particular hit so hard, and explain why. Now it's really hard to put into words, the exact emotion that the song gave me. I don't have words for it. This is the best I can do.

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like I'm the queen.


As someone with Aspergers, I definitely have the feeling that I live in a world of isolation. A world where I see things so different than other people, that they can't even begin to understand what is going through my head.

The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried!

So, I often have the feeling that there is a mass of frustration constantly pulsating inside me. I try to keep it under wraps, keeping it hidden. But sometimes I can't control it anymore, and it bursts forth like a river breaking a dam.

I don't care
What they're going to say

Sometimes I think I care too much. I wish I could just not care about what people say about me. Though, I really don't care what people think of my writing. My writing is something that for me is a powerful expression of how I feel or how I view things.

It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all!

I often tend to run away to a special place when I become stressed. There I am safe from everything, the monsters in the dark, the creeping fear of not knowing what is coming next. 

It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me I'm free!

When I put my mind to something, or I get an idea in my head, this is exactly how I think. There is nothing to stop me. Also when I write I have no rules for what I can and can't say. It's just me, the blank page and my mind. I am free; free from social constraints, free to do what I want. 

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #2

<<Previous
Warning: This post may contain mature content.
     The early morning light streamed through the windows of O’Callahan and Lang Investigations. Jenn let herself into the office and hung her coat on the coat rack. She noticed that the door to to the office was ajar. Curiously she stepped toward it and pushed it open. Jack was laying on his desk, snoring. She stepped closer and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
     “Mr. O’Callahan? Jack?” she cooed. Jack jerked awake and looked around sleepily.
     “Whuts goin’ on?” he mumbled. 
     “Late night?” asked Jenn. 
     “Hmm?” Jack rubbed his eyes, “Uhh yeah. Got a new case.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He began to pat himself down, searching for his lighter. He heard a click and looked up. Jenn held up his lighter. He leaned forward and held the cigarette to the flame. 
     “Thanks” he muttered. 
     “So, What’s the case?” she asked, leaning on the desk. Jack picked up the flash drive. 
     “Alderman Malone has hired us to find out who is blackmailing him,” said Jack. Jenn picked up the letter from the desk and looked at it. Her nose wrinkled. Jack looked at her. “What?”
     “It’s that smell.” 
     “What smell?” questioned Jack.
     “The perfume on this letter,” replied Jenn.
     “Huh?” Jack took the letter for Jenn and held it up to his nose. Sure enough the faint smell of cherries and peaches were present. Jack looked up at his secretary. “Well that narrows down our suspect list. Could you get David on the phone?”
     “Sure!” quipped Jenn smiling. She walked out of the office. Jack to a drag off his cigarette, picked up the flash drive, and looked at it intently. He stood and walked into the waiting room. Jenn hung up the phone as he entered.
     “David will be here in a bit,” she reported.
     “Good.” Jack held out the flash drive, “Can you plug this in? I need to see what’s on it.” 
     “Sure.” Jenn took the flash drive and plugged it into the computer. She opened the file and a list of image files displayed on the screen. Jenn looked up at Jack. 
“Let’s just start at the first one,” said Jack. Jenn double-clicked on the file. A picture of the alderman naked, locked in a chastity device and bound to x-frame with leather cuffs. The frame was leaned against a wall, a mirror was against one wall and what looked like a four poster bed of dark stained wood could be seen; presumably against the wall opposite of the x-frame.
     “Oh!” exclaimed Jenn as her cheeks flushed to a deep crimson. Jack blinked.
     “Well that wasn’t what I expected,” mumbled Jack taking a draw from his cigarette. Jenn rubbed her neck nervously and shifted in her chair. Jack leaned forward, surveying the image. They both jumped as the door opened. David stepped in.
     “Morning! So what’s the big case?” David moved behind the desk to hang up his coat and hat. When he turned around he spotted the image on the screen. “What’s this? Caught Jenn looking at pornographic content?” asked David smiling, “Didn’t figure you were into that kind of thing.” David nodded at the screen. Jenn’s face flushed to an even deeper red, and she stared at the floor.
     “This is part of the case. Alderman Malone has hired us to find out who is blackmailing him,” explained Jack. David leaned against the desk.
     “Oh. So do we have any leads?” 
     “Well, we know that its a woman,” replied Jack.
     “How do you know?” asked David.
     “Smell of perfume on the letter,” stated Jack. 
     “So what’s this?” asked David.
     “These are the pictures that the alderman is begin blackmailed with. I’m hoping we might be able to discern some details from the pictures,” explained Jack. Jack turned back to the computer, “Alright Jenn.” Jenn reluctantly advanced to the next picture. A woman appeared in the picture. She had black hair tied back into a tight braid. She was perched atop five-inch stiletto pumps. Fishnet stockings were held up by a black garter belt. Her waistline was accentuated by a tightly laced corset. A tattoo was visible on her left shoulder blade. Jack leaned close to the screen. 
     “What’s that tattoo? Jenn can you zoom in on that?” Jenn nodded and zoomed in on the woman’s shoulder blade. The tattoo was of a pair of Chinese characters. Jenn crossed her legs and began to chew on her thumbnail. Jack squinted at the characters, he didn’t recognize the characters.
     “David, do you know what these characters are?” he asked. David moved to look at the image.
     “Yeah, they are in traditional hanzi. It says, ‘submit’,” informed David. He pulled a cigarette out of his jacket breast pocket.
     “Do you think this is a service or a private agreement?” asked Jack, standing up. He held out his lighter for his friend. David puffed on his cigarette to light it.
     “Jenn, could you zoom out?” asked David. She complied and David leaned in next to her.  “It looks like a professional dungeon.” 
     “Jenn could you pull up a search on InfoNet, for ‘dominatrix with a Chinese tattoo on her left shoulder blade.” Jenn closed the image viewer and opened up an InfoNet search window. She typed in the query and hit the search button. The first entry in the search was a website for “Mistress Joy’s House of Pain”. 
    “Click that,” said Jack. Jenn clicked the link. The site opened and the page that opened was a mature content warning page. Jenn clicked the continue link. The front page had the woman from the pictures stretched across the screen, wearing nothing but a garter belt, stockings, and stiletto heels. Jenn began to twirl a strand of her hair around her finger. 
     “Let’s see, is there and address?” asked Jack. Jenn scrolled down the page.
     “Not that I can see,” said Jenn, “But there is a CommNet Address.” She pointed to it on the page. Jack looked to David with a sideways smile.
     “You up for a date with a dominatrix?” he asked grinning. Jenn buried her face in her palms.


----------
Next>>
So, Due to life getting in the way, I might have to miss a few weeks for this story arc. I will try to post each new issue every Wednesday. I apologize in advance!

Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source: http://www.sportramble.com/images/monica-belluccitcfb-femme-fatale31.jpg

Friday, August 8, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #1

Warning: This post may contain mature content.


     The rain came down in sheets over the city of Chicago. Jack sat leaned back in his desk chair. He could hear his secretary, Jenn moving around outside the office door. She poked her blonde head inside. 
     “Mr. O’Callahan? I’m going to be heading home soon,” she stated. 
     “Alright, see you tomorrow,” nodded Jack.  She withdrew her head and closed the door. He heard her gathering her things, opening the door and leaving. He stood and walked to the window that looked out across the city. It had been a month since that call from the mysterious person. The voice was still trapped in his ears. Who was she? How did she know that I was investigating the death of Mr. Grove?  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He tucked it between his lips and flicked open his lighter. He puffed on the cigarette thoughtfully. There was a knock at the door.
     “Come in!” called Jack. He turned around expecting to see Jenn. But instead of his blonde secretary he saw a middle-aged man with slicked back salt and pepper hair. He had a square jaw, a hooked nose, and thin lips. He was wearing a fine, tailored suit and in his right hand was a black leather briefcase “Umm, Hello. Can I help you?”
     “Yes, you are Jack O’Callahan, the detective right?” said the man.
     “I’m Jack O’Callahan, Private Investigator, and who might you be?” questioned the detective.
     “I’m Dixon Malone. I’m on the city council,” explained the man. Jack blinked, taken aback for a moment.
     “So, Mister Malone, what can I do for you?” asked Jack. The man shifted back and forth nervously. Jack held out a cigarette. The man looked at it for a moment and took it in trembling fingers.
     “Thanks.” He placed it between his lips. Jack flicked open his lighter and held it out for the man. The man puffed on it and coughed as he inhaled. Jack smiled. 
     “Please have a seat Mister Malone,” said Jack motioning to the chair in front of his desk. The man sat in the chair sputtering. Jack moved to sit in his chair. He looked at the man.
     “So, what can I do for you?” he asked. Mr. Malone looked down at his shoes.
     “I n-need you to find someone,” he muttered.
     “Is someone missing?” questioned Jack.
     “N-no,” stammered Mr. Malone.
     “Then why are you looking for someone?”
     “I’m being blackmailed,” revealed the man. Jack leaned forward.
     “Let me guess. You want me to find out who is doing the blackmail.” 
     “Yes,” relented Mr Malone. Jack leaned back in his chair.
     “How are you being blackmailed? Pictures? Information?” 
     “Uhh… p-pictures,” murmured the man. He fidgeted in his seat.
     “What kind of pictures?” questioned Jack. The man lifted the briefcase and flipped open the latches, he paused.
     “Mr. O’Callahan, Before I show you these, You have to swear that this information will not see the light of day.” Jack raised his eyebrows, intrigued.
     “Alderman Malone, Even though it is in my job description it states that I uncover information, I swear on my license that what ever you have in that briefcase it will not leave this office,” assured the detective. His words seemed to calm the alderman. Mr. Malone reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small chrome flash drive. He set it on the desk. Jack picked it up and looked at it. 
     “The pictures are on here?” he asked. The man simply nodded. Jack took a drag on his cigarette. “Do you have any idea who might be blackmailing you?”
     “No.” 
     “When did this first start?” The man took a drag off of his cigarette. He choked on the smoke. Jack cracked a slim smile.
     “Sorry,” he choked, “I’m not used to the real thing.”
     “They aren’t for everyone,” said Jack, “So when did these letters start arriving?”
     “About a year back.” 
     “What where the demands? Did they ask for money?” asked the detective.
     “Uh, no.” Jack looked at the alderman, brow furrowed.
     “Then what did they demand?”
     “As long as I followed their instructions and pushed for whatever they told me to, those pictures would not be leaked.” 
     “Do you have any of the letters?” asked Jack. The alderman nodded, reached into the briefcase and handed Jack an envelope. The paper was smooth in his hands. Ah, people just don’t send letters anymore, thought the detective. He slipped his finger inside and opened the flap. He pulled out the enclosed paper and unfolded it. It was typed in a font reminiscent of a 20th Century Typewriter.

Dear Alderman Malone,
I have another request for you to follow. You will be receiving a trade proposal from DG International within the next couple of days. I expect you to sign off on it without question. Should you fail to comply I assure you that the information that we hold will be spread all across InfoNet. Then your wife will leave you; your children will look at you like a freak. But above all else, everything you have worked so hard to gain in your life will lost.
Sincerely,
H.W.

     As Jack read the letter, he heard the icy voice from the mysterious phone call. He looked at the close, and the letters that took the place, “H.W.” Could this be the same person, he thought. He set the letter down on the table. 
     “It is an interesting story you have hear Mr. Malone,” said Jack.
     “Will you take my case?” asked the man.
     “Yeah, I’ll take it, But it’s going to cost you,” stated Jack.
     “Would ten-thousand be enough?” asked Mr. Malone. It was Jack turn to cough on the smoke.
     “That would be more than enough,” sputtered Jack. Mr. Malone pulled a check book out of the briefcase, scratched down the amount and handed it to Jack. The man stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray before standing. Jack stood with him.
     “Thank you so much. I cannot express my thanks,” said the alderman.
     “Yeah no problem. If you get anymore of those letters, give me a call.” Jack pulled a piece of scrap paper from his desk and scratched down his CommNet address. The man took it. 

     “I’ll be sure too,” said the man. He nodded and left. Jack sat back down in his chair. He picked up the letter. He could not shake the feeling that the initials “H.W.,” were some how linked to that mysterious phone call. Time began to fly as his thoughts began to surround him. 

----------
So, Due to life getting in the way, I might have to miss a few weeks for this story arc. I will try to post each new issue every Wednesday. I apologize in advance

Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source: https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8506/8392325540_7e958cd9c2_z.jpg

Thoughts on the Matter: Deadpool Test Footage

Recently leaked was the Deadpool Test footage. I can not begin to explain how excited I am to see this. Now there have been several articles already written about the test video, so I'm not going to look at it bit by bit, and talk about the whole deal with Fox (still mad at them for canceling Firefly). Now when the footage was leaked it was low quality and fairly short, I didn't get to see this due to Fox pulling down all the videos. Now I have only seen the HD upload which is fucking amazing.

Now I was introduced to Deadpool by a friend maybe two years ago. I have never been really big into comic books, though I have enjoyed reading the Dark Horse Star Wars comics; the Aliens, Predator, and ultimately the Aliens Vs. Predator comics published by the same company. I downloaded the Deadpool comics from the 90's. I instantly fell in love with the character. The "Merc With the Mouth" was a character that I never really saw in my narrow expanse of comic book knowledge
First off, he was bat-shit crazy. With essentially three minds in his head, he was an amazing strategist. He was a smart-ass and would often psych out his foes.
Secondly, he wasn't afraid to kill someone. He used guns, bombs, swords, and basically whatever he felt like it.

Now I know that there are probably other Comic book characters that do the same thing. But like I said, I'm not a big comic book nerd/geek/fan.

Back to the Video:
As I watched it, I noticed a few things that made me squeal like a schoolgirl.

  1. Deadpool is voiced and mo-capped by Ryan Reynolds 
  2. Deadpool is writing/drawing/coloring with crayons.
  3. He breaks the 4th Wall in the first fifteen seconds of the video.
  4. The continuous stream of smart-ass comments.
  5. The language is in line with what I know of Deadpool.
  6. The violence!
Now there is a huge conversation on the internet about how the Deadpool movie should be rated-R. I completely agree, on the premise Deadpool wouldn't be Deadpool if the film was rated PG-13. From what I've read, Ryan Reynolds and Tim Miller (Director) are pushing for an R rating. But it seems like the studio is hesitant to make an R rated 'superhero' movie since the 'Dredd' flopped in the box office.

Now here are my thoughts on the matter, Deadpool is not Judge Dredd. Deadpool appears to have a bigger fan base. So I think that the film would score a large profit.


*****
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