Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Influence of Super Heros
Growing up I was fascinated by super heros. Saturday morning cartoons, comics, merchandise; I loved it all. The funny thing is I can attribute many of my good qualities from things I've learned from my favorite heros. Spiderman and his alter ego Peter Parker taught me to use my mind, and to have responsibility. The Fantastic Four made me value family. Iron Man and Batman taught me that you didn't even need to have special powers to be exceptional. All these fictional characters had a real involvement in my life. I can trace my fascination with women to what I had seen Tony Stark do in Iron Man episodes. My nerdy side which didn't always succeede with the ladies was nurtured by the same nerdy side of Peter Parker. Now that I'm older, and these old cartoons are becoming made into live action movies, I can't help but appreciate the lessons these characters have taught me. Plus it makes me feel like a kid again and I couldn't be more excited for the newest movie (IRON MAN on May 2nd) to be released. Ah, to be a kid again.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
To Milton's Satan
To Milton's Satan
By Andrew Moravick
In sin you ate and with death you dined
Bred in you hate and with malice of mind,
You exploded with actions and words of woe,
Destroying yourself instead of your foe,
And that foe whom you fought be truly a friend,
Though all that you sought truly led to your end,
So then seek you out by some secondary style,
A means and a manner to your opponent defile,
Cowering corrupt a conniving plan you prescribed,
From the spirits of revenge on which you imbibed,
Drunk in delight of dark deed to be done,
Rapidly to righteous retaliation you run,
On blackened wings to air you take to make haste,
TO your victims souls you go to damn and lay waste,
For they are the one weakness for you to make gains
Gainst your foe by bestowing on them the pains
Felt by you when in your pride you boldly blasphemed
And so set you upon them, a terror too great to be dreamed
By the innocent victims of your voracious villainy,
Outcast and cursed by your cruel craft, continually
Carrying on characterized by your terrible temptation,
Passing to posterity the lashes of your lethal lamentation
And so now in sin we hate and on us Death dines
While woefully we wait for salvations sweet signs,
Which will tell of a time when free from you we will be,
And no glimmer of further gain may your monstrous eye see.
By Andrew Moravick
In sin you ate and with death you dined
Bred in you hate and with malice of mind,
You exploded with actions and words of woe,
Destroying yourself instead of your foe,
And that foe whom you fought be truly a friend,
Though all that you sought truly led to your end,
So then seek you out by some secondary style,
A means and a manner to your opponent defile,
Cowering corrupt a conniving plan you prescribed,
From the spirits of revenge on which you imbibed,
Drunk in delight of dark deed to be done,
Rapidly to righteous retaliation you run,
On blackened wings to air you take to make haste,
TO your victims souls you go to damn and lay waste,
For they are the one weakness for you to make gains
Gainst your foe by bestowing on them the pains
Felt by you when in your pride you boldly blasphemed
And so set you upon them, a terror too great to be dreamed
By the innocent victims of your voracious villainy,
Outcast and cursed by your cruel craft, continually
Carrying on characterized by your terrible temptation,
Passing to posterity the lashes of your lethal lamentation
And so now in sin we hate and on us Death dines
While woefully we wait for salvations sweet signs,
Which will tell of a time when free from you we will be,
And no glimmer of further gain may your monstrous eye see.
Forget Not Rhyme
Forget Not Rhyme
By Andrew Moravick
Poetry with no rhyme is like sex with no climax,
Yes it can be done but on your mind it will tax.
Rhyme they say is cheap, fickle, and out dated,
Why though are those poems today contemplated,
While modern terns of verse are just dozens for a dime,
And yet long lasting is literature with that ridiculous rhyme?
Modernism it’s called, poetry progressed past those previously penned,
Yet why not with Donne, Blake, or Byron can modernists contend?
The mind needs challenges, toils, tribulations, and tests,
Without these within the mind mediocrity manifests.
Rhyme with reason paired requires more thought in each line,
Through various vines of vocabulary a poet must pine.
Searching for words of worth, weight, and wonderful sound,
Pleasing the pen wielding poet when words are finally found.
Rhythm valued vastly above rhyme what a reckless reform.
Like wearing shirt without pants while wanting to keep warm.
Yes some unrhymed writings are beautiful and deep,
But can not rhymed wonders we also wish to keep?
Are we so vain to say we are absolutely above,
The poems of old all ages have shared in love?
Why not continue the old with the new?
Why value one way when both are true?
Why abandon rhyme in poetry without second thought,
When rhymes were the first part of poetry we were taught?
By Andrew Moravick
Poetry with no rhyme is like sex with no climax,
Yes it can be done but on your mind it will tax.
Rhyme they say is cheap, fickle, and out dated,
Why though are those poems today contemplated,
While modern terns of verse are just dozens for a dime,
And yet long lasting is literature with that ridiculous rhyme?
Modernism it’s called, poetry progressed past those previously penned,
Yet why not with Donne, Blake, or Byron can modernists contend?
The mind needs challenges, toils, tribulations, and tests,
Without these within the mind mediocrity manifests.
Rhyme with reason paired requires more thought in each line,
Through various vines of vocabulary a poet must pine.
Searching for words of worth, weight, and wonderful sound,
Pleasing the pen wielding poet when words are finally found.
Rhythm valued vastly above rhyme what a reckless reform.
Like wearing shirt without pants while wanting to keep warm.
Yes some unrhymed writings are beautiful and deep,
But can not rhymed wonders we also wish to keep?
Are we so vain to say we are absolutely above,
The poems of old all ages have shared in love?
Why not continue the old with the new?
Why value one way when both are true?
Why abandon rhyme in poetry without second thought,
When rhymes were the first part of poetry we were taught?
Friday, February 15, 2008
RANT TIME!
So lately I've been posting a lot of my pieces, and gotten some decent comments, and a nice flow of readers. In this period I've been quite content, and being content I haven't felt the need to rant. However I feel a good rant every now and again spices things up, gets people talking, and gets a load off my chest.
So what to rant about..... hmmmmmmmmm..... what deserves an angry tirade courtesy of yours truly? You know what, I'm pissed off that there's nothing to piss me off about right now! The election is shaping up actually nicely so that we may have one or two decent candidates vying for the white house. I haven't heard any outlandish claims from televangalists saying that global warming is the gays fault or anything ridiculous like that. Britney Spears has killed her career enough already so me lambasting her won't do anything. Bush's term is coming ever closer to its end. The writer's strike is over. WHAT CAN I BE ANGRY ABOUT!?
I know! God! God is really pissing me off right now. He just can't seem to make up his mind can he? I mean he gives us clear signals that the world is coming to an end but then changes his mind, deciding to put it off for another day. If he's going to end the world he should do it already! I'm looking forward to heaven, or even hell. The way Gods been acting Satan may be a more interesting eternal companion, minus the eternity of pain and suffering and all. Then again this world is pretty much Satan's right now and it isn't all that great.
Another thing, could God clear things up again? Every time he sends a profit new religions branch out because the old ones can't accept a changed message. The new religions worshiping the same god start hating each other for no real reason. Way to go Big Guy. I'm sure its a tough job but isn't that why God is supposed to be God? I mean seriously what's his most recent miracle, the Giant's beating the Patriots in the superbowl? Who'd that help besides those people betting on the long shot Giants? God, don't make me come up there!
I'm kind of dissapointed now. That was the best thing I could think of to rant about. I suppose I'm just in a happy mood at the moment.
So what to rant about..... hmmmmmmmmm..... what deserves an angry tirade courtesy of yours truly? You know what, I'm pissed off that there's nothing to piss me off about right now! The election is shaping up actually nicely so that we may have one or two decent candidates vying for the white house. I haven't heard any outlandish claims from televangalists saying that global warming is the gays fault or anything ridiculous like that. Britney Spears has killed her career enough already so me lambasting her won't do anything. Bush's term is coming ever closer to its end. The writer's strike is over. WHAT CAN I BE ANGRY ABOUT!?
I know! God! God is really pissing me off right now. He just can't seem to make up his mind can he? I mean he gives us clear signals that the world is coming to an end but then changes his mind, deciding to put it off for another day. If he's going to end the world he should do it already! I'm looking forward to heaven, or even hell. The way Gods been acting Satan may be a more interesting eternal companion, minus the eternity of pain and suffering and all. Then again this world is pretty much Satan's right now and it isn't all that great.
Another thing, could God clear things up again? Every time he sends a profit new religions branch out because the old ones can't accept a changed message. The new religions worshiping the same god start hating each other for no real reason. Way to go Big Guy. I'm sure its a tough job but isn't that why God is supposed to be God? I mean seriously what's his most recent miracle, the Giant's beating the Patriots in the superbowl? Who'd that help besides those people betting on the long shot Giants? God, don't make me come up there!
I'm kind of dissapointed now. That was the best thing I could think of to rant about. I suppose I'm just in a happy mood at the moment.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Drowning In Mediocrity
Drowning In Mediocrity
By Andrew Moravick
Long enough have I tread this torrent,
Long enough have I fought this current,
Foolishly pined to float above convention,
Through feats, words, or some sort of invention.
Yet what am I in all and all,
Never to rise but bound to fall.
My arms grow tired and breath grows short,
Every effort I make the sea will thwart.
Should I exhale for one last time,
And descend into the suffocating brine?
Should I accept my future and take my place,
Settle for a walk when longing to race?
Long dead are the days of valued verse.
Long gone are lines of pith and terse.
Poets past what would you say,
If you saw the effects of ignorance today?
Imagination replaced by a screen,
Unheard are those who dream.
The wonders of each day have become so trivial,
Mysteries, majesties, mysticisms, none left to reveal.
Shakespeare today where would you be,
Silent, unheard, undistinguished by the SAT?
Blake, what visions would you put down on page,
That no one has seen in this cheap visionless age?
Emerson how could you possibly transcend,
When there are too many voices for the message you send?
Frost how now could you walk the path less taken,
With all roads explored, yet all left vacant?
How can I stand with all you my friends,
You who are gods made by nothing but pens?
Your words cemented on page as in stone,
Mine written on water never to be known.
Give me your voices o gods of the page,
Give me your powers to be heard in this age.
For my voice is lost, drown by my time,
Let the people hear yours if unmoved my mine.
Deeper down I continue to sink,
Starving for air, unable to think.
My mind now shrieks from insufferable pain,
Assaulted by a sea of thoughts so common and plain.
My body still lives while my soul nears death,
Thoughts of my friends my one lasting breath.
In your words my last comfort I see,
Yet if all you could triumph than why not me?
With this pen I can save myself from this mediocrity.
The waters drop back and high do I rise,
No longer a gill-less fish am I,
But a mighty eagle, lord of the skies.
Yet in eternal debt to you gods who bid me fly.
I cry out in joy with my pen,
The voice of the bard to be heard once again.
By Andrew Moravick
Long enough have I tread this torrent,
Long enough have I fought this current,
Foolishly pined to float above convention,
Through feats, words, or some sort of invention.
Yet what am I in all and all,
Never to rise but bound to fall.
My arms grow tired and breath grows short,
Every effort I make the sea will thwart.
Should I exhale for one last time,
And descend into the suffocating brine?
Should I accept my future and take my place,
Settle for a walk when longing to race?
Long dead are the days of valued verse.
Long gone are lines of pith and terse.
Poets past what would you say,
If you saw the effects of ignorance today?
Imagination replaced by a screen,
Unheard are those who dream.
The wonders of each day have become so trivial,
Mysteries, majesties, mysticisms, none left to reveal.
Shakespeare today where would you be,
Silent, unheard, undistinguished by the SAT?
Blake, what visions would you put down on page,
That no one has seen in this cheap visionless age?
Emerson how could you possibly transcend,
When there are too many voices for the message you send?
Frost how now could you walk the path less taken,
With all roads explored, yet all left vacant?
How can I stand with all you my friends,
You who are gods made by nothing but pens?
Your words cemented on page as in stone,
Mine written on water never to be known.
Give me your voices o gods of the page,
Give me your powers to be heard in this age.
For my voice is lost, drown by my time,
Let the people hear yours if unmoved my mine.
Deeper down I continue to sink,
Starving for air, unable to think.
My mind now shrieks from insufferable pain,
Assaulted by a sea of thoughts so common and plain.
My body still lives while my soul nears death,
Thoughts of my friends my one lasting breath.
In your words my last comfort I see,
Yet if all you could triumph than why not me?
With this pen I can save myself from this mediocrity.
The waters drop back and high do I rise,
No longer a gill-less fish am I,
But a mighty eagle, lord of the skies.
Yet in eternal debt to you gods who bid me fly.
I cry out in joy with my pen,
The voice of the bard to be heard once again.
Monday, February 11, 2008
What A Woman Wants?
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, however it was based on some of my personal dealings with women. I have no intention of degrading, insulting, or doing any other type of harm to women in writing this. My intention was to highlight the sad, but habitual tendencies of women to not see that what they're looking for is right in front of them. I attempted to take a woman's perspective in this to also try and understand why such tendencies are common. Hopefully a little humor can be found in this piece as well. Also, ladies, I would like your input on this because I want to know if you can relate to this female character.
This has got to stop. What’s wrong with guys today? Is there even one decent guy around here?
“Hey Brittany.”
“Oh, hey Andrew.”
Seriously, guys have no class. All they want is to have their fun and leave me. I don’t think there’s single one of them who actually knows how to treat a girl. None of them ever care how I feel.
“How’re you today?”
“I’m fine thanks.”
Guys only seem to care about one thing. They just never think. They’re all just so stupid.
“So Britney, might you need any help with your homework?”
“No thanks Andrew. I’m fine.”
It’s like we’re just objects to them. They don’t even try to understand how girls work. If they even tried a little they could figure out what makes us happy. I can’t believe that none of them can figure me out.
“You ok Britney? It seems like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just tired thanks.”
All I really want is a nice, funny guy who can make me smile. Is that too much to ask? Why can’t guys stop thinking about sex long enough to give me a laugh every once and a while.
“So this is a little random, but how many shrinks does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
"I dunno.”
“Just one, but he has to lay it down on a couch and ask it how it feels first.”
“That’s a good one Andrew.”
Guys are just so lazy too. I work hard to keep my body in shape while they just sit around playing their video games. What ever happened to guys being athletic?
“Oh by the way, I have a track meet this Saturday. You should come.”
“That’s nice Andrew, maybe I will.”
They’re always so creepy too. Every time I try to have a good time with my girl friends they’re always hitting on me. Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I want to have sex. Why don’t they just talk to me when I’m sober and get to know me?
“So have you been doing all right with your classes and working at the same time? I imagine its pretty hard?”
“It’s nothing really.”
What ever happened to romance anyway? Why do guys only buy girls flowers after they’ve cheated on them? Why don’t they write poetry or do all those sweet things that now only happen in movies?
“I know you’ve been busy, but did you get a chance to read the poem I wrote? I think it’s ok, but I could use an outside opinion.”
“Sorry Andrew, I didn’t get a chance.”
Even when I think they care they always end up hurting me. It’s like they enjoy it. When I was with Jonathan I don’t know what I did, but for some reason he just seemed to get off on hitting me and making me cry. No matter how nice I was to him, or however many times I apologized he just wouldn’t stop. Then after all I had done for him he got bored with me and left. Its like guys don’t have a single considerate bone in their body. I can’t remember the last time a guy has done anything remotely nice for me.
“Oh Britney, I almost forgot, I took a look at your paper and fixed a couple things and made a few recommendations. I thought you could use a little help if that’s ok.”
“Yeah, sure, thanks.”
They never make any time for me either. I have all the time in the world available for them, but they’d always rather spend time drinking with their buddies or doing something else. Why can’t guys ever make time for me?
“If you want, I have some time after dinner to go over the paper more. I don’t mind, plus I really don’t have much else to do tonight.”
“That’s ok. I think I’ll be all right with it.”
God, I wish Andrew would leave me alone. Yeah, he’s nice, and kinda funny, but he just seems to care too much. It’s just weird. Doesn’t he realize that he’s crowding me? I need my space. It’s like he doesn’t even know he’s bothering me.
“I hope I’m not annoying you. If I am, I’ll stop.”
“No Andrew, you’re fine.”
Why’d I sit next to him in the first place? Sure he looked cute that first day, and he’s pretty helpful in class, but he’s just so strange. Maybe he thinks I like him or something. I don’t know why he would think that.
“You know, if I am bugging you I can move next class. I don’t mind, and you can sit with some of your other friends.”
“No, no, it’s all right. I like sitting by you.”
I don’t even want to think about this anymore. Guys are all dogs. There isn’t one good one, and I shouldn’t even give them the satisfaction of being thought about.
-My God, my hair is all frizzy! This weather is brutal. I can’t believe I actually left my room looking like this. I’m hideous. I’m completely repulsive.
“If it’s not weird for me to say Britney, you look very nice today.”
“That’s nice Andrew.”
This has got to stop. What’s wrong with guys today? Is there even one decent guy around here?
“Hey Brittany.”
“Oh, hey Andrew.”
Seriously, guys have no class. All they want is to have their fun and leave me. I don’t think there’s single one of them who actually knows how to treat a girl. None of them ever care how I feel.
“How’re you today?”
“I’m fine thanks.”
Guys only seem to care about one thing. They just never think. They’re all just so stupid.
“So Britney, might you need any help with your homework?”
“No thanks Andrew. I’m fine.”
It’s like we’re just objects to them. They don’t even try to understand how girls work. If they even tried a little they could figure out what makes us happy. I can’t believe that none of them can figure me out.
“You ok Britney? It seems like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just tired thanks.”
All I really want is a nice, funny guy who can make me smile. Is that too much to ask? Why can’t guys stop thinking about sex long enough to give me a laugh every once and a while.
“So this is a little random, but how many shrinks does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
"I dunno.”
“Just one, but he has to lay it down on a couch and ask it how it feels first.”
“That’s a good one Andrew.”
Guys are just so lazy too. I work hard to keep my body in shape while they just sit around playing their video games. What ever happened to guys being athletic?
“Oh by the way, I have a track meet this Saturday. You should come.”
“That’s nice Andrew, maybe I will.”
They’re always so creepy too. Every time I try to have a good time with my girl friends they’re always hitting on me. Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I want to have sex. Why don’t they just talk to me when I’m sober and get to know me?
“So have you been doing all right with your classes and working at the same time? I imagine its pretty hard?”
“It’s nothing really.”
What ever happened to romance anyway? Why do guys only buy girls flowers after they’ve cheated on them? Why don’t they write poetry or do all those sweet things that now only happen in movies?
“I know you’ve been busy, but did you get a chance to read the poem I wrote? I think it’s ok, but I could use an outside opinion.”
“Sorry Andrew, I didn’t get a chance.”
Even when I think they care they always end up hurting me. It’s like they enjoy it. When I was with Jonathan I don’t know what I did, but for some reason he just seemed to get off on hitting me and making me cry. No matter how nice I was to him, or however many times I apologized he just wouldn’t stop. Then after all I had done for him he got bored with me and left. Its like guys don’t have a single considerate bone in their body. I can’t remember the last time a guy has done anything remotely nice for me.
“Oh Britney, I almost forgot, I took a look at your paper and fixed a couple things and made a few recommendations. I thought you could use a little help if that’s ok.”
“Yeah, sure, thanks.”
They never make any time for me either. I have all the time in the world available for them, but they’d always rather spend time drinking with their buddies or doing something else. Why can’t guys ever make time for me?
“If you want, I have some time after dinner to go over the paper more. I don’t mind, plus I really don’t have much else to do tonight.”
“That’s ok. I think I’ll be all right with it.”
God, I wish Andrew would leave me alone. Yeah, he’s nice, and kinda funny, but he just seems to care too much. It’s just weird. Doesn’t he realize that he’s crowding me? I need my space. It’s like he doesn’t even know he’s bothering me.
“I hope I’m not annoying you. If I am, I’ll stop.”
“No Andrew, you’re fine.”
Why’d I sit next to him in the first place? Sure he looked cute that first day, and he’s pretty helpful in class, but he’s just so strange. Maybe he thinks I like him or something. I don’t know why he would think that.
“You know, if I am bugging you I can move next class. I don’t mind, and you can sit with some of your other friends.”
“No, no, it’s all right. I like sitting by you.”
I don’t even want to think about this anymore. Guys are all dogs. There isn’t one good one, and I shouldn’t even give them the satisfaction of being thought about.
-My God, my hair is all frizzy! This weather is brutal. I can’t believe I actually left my room looking like this. I’m hideous. I’m completely repulsive.
“If it’s not weird for me to say Britney, you look very nice today.”
“That’s nice Andrew.”
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Drinking The Darkness
Drinking The Darkness
By Andrew Moravick
He drank in the darkness. The spirits he imbibed filled him well. Those same spirits soon after began to consume him. He welcomed their effect. They moved him to join with others drinking in that same darkness. Their location was different, but the darkness was the same. With others around there were more spirits to be welcomed, and more darkness to be enjoyed. The more control the spirits held over him, the more liberated he felt.
His mind was asleep, tranquilized by the foreign solution he had allowed inside him. His soul was uninhibited. Every desire it had was forced out in his actions. The same was felt by the others in that same darkness. The door would occasionally open as others joined. Though a glow from the outside hall seeped in, no one could feel the light.
He moved only under the influence of the spirits. They drew him toward an alluring silhouette, noticeable in the dark only because of its greater darkness. Such a seductive shape could only belong to a female, and such an alluring female should only belong to him. He stumbled his way to her, feeling the first few ill effects of the darkness. He offered her some of the spirit he had, which she delightfully accepted, taking a little more than he intended to give. Their desires mingled, unrestricted by their minds. His hand was lifted to bring her into him so that his lips could have access to her ear. A few of his spirits left his body in his words and inserted themselves into her. She took his hand and in their darkness they walked through the dimly lit hall to her room.
“Wha- what was-shur name again?” he asked as she closed the door behind them.
“Britney, yuh, you’re Bry, Brian right?”
“Yeah. You- you still wanna do this?”
“Yuh- yeah,” she said as she freed herself from her shirt. Brian removed his shirt as well. She moved closer, locking her arms round his back. Brian kissed her. She unbuttoned his pants. He slid off her skirt. Their actions were fueled by the spirits within them. They stood naked, clothed in the darkness. They awkwardly embraced each other, stumbling through the unlit room, finally falling onto her bed. The world around them had disappeared. The dark walls which afforded them their privacy were invisible. The room was boundless. Brian could not even see the woman that lay beneath him. Her breaths and moans were drowned out by his. If not for the pleasure he felt resulting from his movements he would not have known she was there.
Exhaustion began to infect his body. The many dark nights he had enjoyed before were collecting their payment for his pleasure. The spirits which had afforded him such frivolities claimed Brian’s fitness as their compensation. His energy left him. The spirits’ hold became weaker, having less to feed upon within him. A stream of light slithered into the room through the window as a car passed by the building on the street below. Brian was finished. He rolled out of bed, feeling for his clothes on the floor.
“Whuh- where are you guh-going?” Britney asked.
“I have to go. I have class in the morning,” Brian replied.
He left her room. His eyes squeezed to a squint adjusting to the light in the hall. He made his way back to the dark room he had been in before. He thirsted for the return of the spirits within him. The others in the room gladly welcomed him back to their darkness, sharing their own spirits with him.
Brian was free once more. In the dark he couldn’t look down and see his growing belly. The athletic abs he had been so proud of in the past had left him. In the dark, their absence was not missed. He couldn’t see his widening legs which had grown not out of training, but because of the greater weight they had to bear. The legs that had bought his way into college stealing bases had become slow, but their former speed was not longed for in the dark. All of his worries, all of his imperfections, all the misery of life could not be seen in his darkness.
The people around him stood silent, but the spirits within them filled the room with their voices. Incoherent stories inspired strange fits of laughter. The sounds were familiar to Brian. He did not know whether those noises were from friends or people he had never met before. He didn’t care. They were the sounds of darkness, the voices of spirits which he knew on a most intimate level. They were not firm and commanding like the people he encountered during the day. These pleasant voices demanded nothing of him. They expected nothing of him.
The door opened. The same seductive silhouette Brian had seen before strode into the room. He didn’t care if she saw him. He had his fun. The door closed, but her dark outline stayed in his view. She staggered her way over to another silhouette; this one more robust, but equally dark. Brian watched as Brittney sipped some of the stranger’s spirits. Her hand fell flirtatiously on the stranger’s arm. Brian’s hand tightened into a fist. The spirits within him ignited rage in his veins. His diminished muscles inflated with adrenaline, surpassing even their previous potential. Brian stood up. The spirits which had hindered his coordination abandoned their inebriating effect to fuel Brian’s fury. Brian made his way toward the stranger. Each step fell as if the very floor was the offender he was walking toward. Brian’s hand wrenched down on the stranger’s shoulder.
“Woah! Oh hey Brian. You scared me, Man,” the stranger responded.
“Brian, I th- th- thought yuh- you-ad class in the morning. Whuh- why’d you”- Britney interrupted until Brian broke in.
“I do, but whuh what’re you doing talking to this guy?” Brian’s hand was tightening on the strangers shoulder.
“Dude, it’s me. It’s Jayson… From the team.”
“I unno you, and if I did, d’ya think I’d let you talk to her like that!” Brian’s other hand, clenched still in a fist, rose, rocketing into the stranger’s face.
“Why’d you do that Brian? Luh- leave him alone! I was only”-
“Shut up, whore! Ya plan on takin’ him back ta your room too?” Brian’s words fell as hard on Britney as his blows did on the dark figure lying on the floor.
Hands came out of the darkness around him, pulling Brian away. He struggled to return to his belligerent work, unsatisfied with the damage he had already done. In the dark, Brian could not see the bloody end result of the abuse he inflicted. The hands dragged him away as he watched others tend to the stranger. His eyes slammed closed, assailed by the light as he was thrown into the hall. Brian staggered his way out of the building. His eyes relaxed as he escaped the light. The night air was crisp, but unpalatable to Brian. He only took joy in his return to darkness.
The spirits were once again leaving him, burnt up in the fires of his anger. They urged him to hurry back to his room where he had more to take in. His frantic movement caused him to fall, scraping his skin across the paved path to his dorm. He didn’t feel the full extent of the pain. The spirits took care of that. The only real discomfort he felt was from the light that met him as he entered his building. He stumbled his way to his room. Inside he closed the door, sealing out the abhorred light. He felt his way to his fridge, finding a few remaining spirits waiting for him.
Exhausted by all the action, and the toll the spirits had taken on him, Brian collapsed onto his bed. Sleep replaced the dominant role over his consciousness held by the spirits. The gashes made on his journey bled into the sheets, staining them as he slept. Darkness was hanging over him.
The next morning light invaded the room The intruding rays burned Brian’s eyes beneath their lids. His head was spinning from the unwelcome awakening. He inspected the blinds. They were down as best they could be. He rolled himself off the sheets he had passed out on the night before, not noticing the blood stains he had left. Once off, he folded back his comforter. Then he slid himself back onto his bed. He pulled the sheets over his head blocking out any more of the invasive light. He took comfort in the darkness. Though he had been acquainted with light many times, darkness was a much dearer friend. His eyes closed, returning him to his ignorantly blissful sleep.
Hours later, an alarm clock attacked his slumber as the light had done before. He had set it to wake him in time for class. One lone outstretched hand snaked its way out from underneath the covers to shut off the bothersome sound. He had no need for class. At the moment, he was content to stay in darkness, but for the rest of his life, the darkness would never again allow him to be so content. He had no recollection of the night before. Such was the reward of his darkness. Had he known what he had done the night before, he might have been able to fix things before they got out of his control. Such was the curse of his darkness. Brian closed his eyes and returned to the tranquil darkness of sleep. He didn’t notice the ominous light flashing angrily from the answering machine on his desk.
By Andrew Moravick
He drank in the darkness. The spirits he imbibed filled him well. Those same spirits soon after began to consume him. He welcomed their effect. They moved him to join with others drinking in that same darkness. Their location was different, but the darkness was the same. With others around there were more spirits to be welcomed, and more darkness to be enjoyed. The more control the spirits held over him, the more liberated he felt.
His mind was asleep, tranquilized by the foreign solution he had allowed inside him. His soul was uninhibited. Every desire it had was forced out in his actions. The same was felt by the others in that same darkness. The door would occasionally open as others joined. Though a glow from the outside hall seeped in, no one could feel the light.
He moved only under the influence of the spirits. They drew him toward an alluring silhouette, noticeable in the dark only because of its greater darkness. Such a seductive shape could only belong to a female, and such an alluring female should only belong to him. He stumbled his way to her, feeling the first few ill effects of the darkness. He offered her some of the spirit he had, which she delightfully accepted, taking a little more than he intended to give. Their desires mingled, unrestricted by their minds. His hand was lifted to bring her into him so that his lips could have access to her ear. A few of his spirits left his body in his words and inserted themselves into her. She took his hand and in their darkness they walked through the dimly lit hall to her room.
“Wha- what was-shur name again?” he asked as she closed the door behind them.
“Britney, yuh, you’re Bry, Brian right?”
“Yeah. You- you still wanna do this?”
“Yuh- yeah,” she said as she freed herself from her shirt. Brian removed his shirt as well. She moved closer, locking her arms round his back. Brian kissed her. She unbuttoned his pants. He slid off her skirt. Their actions were fueled by the spirits within them. They stood naked, clothed in the darkness. They awkwardly embraced each other, stumbling through the unlit room, finally falling onto her bed. The world around them had disappeared. The dark walls which afforded them their privacy were invisible. The room was boundless. Brian could not even see the woman that lay beneath him. Her breaths and moans were drowned out by his. If not for the pleasure he felt resulting from his movements he would not have known she was there.
Exhaustion began to infect his body. The many dark nights he had enjoyed before were collecting their payment for his pleasure. The spirits which had afforded him such frivolities claimed Brian’s fitness as their compensation. His energy left him. The spirits’ hold became weaker, having less to feed upon within him. A stream of light slithered into the room through the window as a car passed by the building on the street below. Brian was finished. He rolled out of bed, feeling for his clothes on the floor.
“Whuh- where are you guh-going?” Britney asked.
“I have to go. I have class in the morning,” Brian replied.
He left her room. His eyes squeezed to a squint adjusting to the light in the hall. He made his way back to the dark room he had been in before. He thirsted for the return of the spirits within him. The others in the room gladly welcomed him back to their darkness, sharing their own spirits with him.
Brian was free once more. In the dark he couldn’t look down and see his growing belly. The athletic abs he had been so proud of in the past had left him. In the dark, their absence was not missed. He couldn’t see his widening legs which had grown not out of training, but because of the greater weight they had to bear. The legs that had bought his way into college stealing bases had become slow, but their former speed was not longed for in the dark. All of his worries, all of his imperfections, all the misery of life could not be seen in his darkness.
The people around him stood silent, but the spirits within them filled the room with their voices. Incoherent stories inspired strange fits of laughter. The sounds were familiar to Brian. He did not know whether those noises were from friends or people he had never met before. He didn’t care. They were the sounds of darkness, the voices of spirits which he knew on a most intimate level. They were not firm and commanding like the people he encountered during the day. These pleasant voices demanded nothing of him. They expected nothing of him.
The door opened. The same seductive silhouette Brian had seen before strode into the room. He didn’t care if she saw him. He had his fun. The door closed, but her dark outline stayed in his view. She staggered her way over to another silhouette; this one more robust, but equally dark. Brian watched as Brittney sipped some of the stranger’s spirits. Her hand fell flirtatiously on the stranger’s arm. Brian’s hand tightened into a fist. The spirits within him ignited rage in his veins. His diminished muscles inflated with adrenaline, surpassing even their previous potential. Brian stood up. The spirits which had hindered his coordination abandoned their inebriating effect to fuel Brian’s fury. Brian made his way toward the stranger. Each step fell as if the very floor was the offender he was walking toward. Brian’s hand wrenched down on the stranger’s shoulder.
“Woah! Oh hey Brian. You scared me, Man,” the stranger responded.
“Brian, I th- th- thought yuh- you-ad class in the morning. Whuh- why’d you”- Britney interrupted until Brian broke in.
“I do, but whuh what’re you doing talking to this guy?” Brian’s hand was tightening on the strangers shoulder.
“Dude, it’s me. It’s Jayson… From the team.”
“I unno you, and if I did, d’ya think I’d let you talk to her like that!” Brian’s other hand, clenched still in a fist, rose, rocketing into the stranger’s face.
“Why’d you do that Brian? Luh- leave him alone! I was only”-
“Shut up, whore! Ya plan on takin’ him back ta your room too?” Brian’s words fell as hard on Britney as his blows did on the dark figure lying on the floor.
Hands came out of the darkness around him, pulling Brian away. He struggled to return to his belligerent work, unsatisfied with the damage he had already done. In the dark, Brian could not see the bloody end result of the abuse he inflicted. The hands dragged him away as he watched others tend to the stranger. His eyes slammed closed, assailed by the light as he was thrown into the hall. Brian staggered his way out of the building. His eyes relaxed as he escaped the light. The night air was crisp, but unpalatable to Brian. He only took joy in his return to darkness.
The spirits were once again leaving him, burnt up in the fires of his anger. They urged him to hurry back to his room where he had more to take in. His frantic movement caused him to fall, scraping his skin across the paved path to his dorm. He didn’t feel the full extent of the pain. The spirits took care of that. The only real discomfort he felt was from the light that met him as he entered his building. He stumbled his way to his room. Inside he closed the door, sealing out the abhorred light. He felt his way to his fridge, finding a few remaining spirits waiting for him.
Exhausted by all the action, and the toll the spirits had taken on him, Brian collapsed onto his bed. Sleep replaced the dominant role over his consciousness held by the spirits. The gashes made on his journey bled into the sheets, staining them as he slept. Darkness was hanging over him.
The next morning light invaded the room The intruding rays burned Brian’s eyes beneath their lids. His head was spinning from the unwelcome awakening. He inspected the blinds. They were down as best they could be. He rolled himself off the sheets he had passed out on the night before, not noticing the blood stains he had left. Once off, he folded back his comforter. Then he slid himself back onto his bed. He pulled the sheets over his head blocking out any more of the invasive light. He took comfort in the darkness. Though he had been acquainted with light many times, darkness was a much dearer friend. His eyes closed, returning him to his ignorantly blissful sleep.
Hours later, an alarm clock attacked his slumber as the light had done before. He had set it to wake him in time for class. One lone outstretched hand snaked its way out from underneath the covers to shut off the bothersome sound. He had no need for class. At the moment, he was content to stay in darkness, but for the rest of his life, the darkness would never again allow him to be so content. He had no recollection of the night before. Such was the reward of his darkness. Had he known what he had done the night before, he might have been able to fix things before they got out of his control. Such was the curse of his darkness. Brian closed his eyes and returned to the tranquil darkness of sleep. He didn’t notice the ominous light flashing angrily from the answering machine on his desk.
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