When I was very young my father gave me a stuffed animal that was his when he was a child. It was not the soft squeeze-able kind of stuff animal that we have nowadays. Instead, it was quite hard, with wooden chips packed inside. Also, it was quite ugly and was borderline scary. Its fur was all matted and clumps had fallen out, so there were bare patches. Its glass eyes seemed to stare and looked as if they were ready to fall out. One of its ears was ripped and was being held on by only a couple threads. My father said his name was Toby as he lovingly give me the stuffed animal. Toby had been packed for a long time in a box and smelled musty when I held him. Also, my hands became blackened by his dusty fur, which came out as touched him. I tried to smile and be appreciative, but managed only and smirk and a “thannnkk you.....” This was a big deal for my father to give this to me, he was quite sentimental about Toby. He told me that he had gotten Toby when he was very young, during the war. He said that Toby would protect him when he slept and no matter how scary things got Toby was aways there. I really tried again to look appreciative, but still couldn’t quite muster a smile.
I went to my room Toby in my hands. I knew that my father was trying to help me. I had been so scared as a child. I always worried that some monster was lurking under my bed. Maybe, he thought Toby would protect me. But I was scared of Toby. I really couldn’t help it. Its glass eyes looked at me strangely and its mustiness made me queasy. I took Toby and put him in my closet on the top self. Then quickly closed the closet and tied it shut with the sting from an old pair of shoes. I knew that he would be
trapped inside my closet. I slept well that night. I did not fear monsters anymore. No, I had only one fear, Toby. I knew that he was safely locked away so he would never get me. Once upon a time, in a dark dirty part of the city, where even the police dared not venture, there was a car. It was an expensive car, the kind you dream about having but know
you’ll never be able to afford. On this expensive car was a sign, which it was written in large bright clear letters “Steal Me”. Some people walked by the car without noticing the sign, even though it was quite hard not to notice. But they were too busy to take notice and rushed to whatever place it was they had to be. Others, passed by, stopped, walked back and thinking that their eyes had decieved them, stared at the sign. After several minutes of staring at the sign, they inspected the car. They laughed when they saw that the doors were unlocked and that on the front driver’s seat was an envolope, which was clearly marked “Keys”. They would remark to themselves that some idiot or crazy person must have left the car and left the car laughing to themselves. Sometimes these type of people would return periodically to check, if the car was still there and of course it was. Another group, who noticed the car, didn’t notice the sign at first. They only saw an expensive car and it’s steal potential. This group was composed of robbers and vandals. In this part of the city there was quite a large number of people who fit into this catagory. It was part if their trade to work quickly. To steal the radio, hub caps, or even the whole car, but to do so quickly. Time was of the essence. This group raced to the car, gave it an once over to determine what they were up against and to meet the challenge. Surprised, they observed that the car had no stearing wheel block, no alarm, and even the doors were unlocked. This was going to be so easy, they thought. Also, they saw the sign and the envelope marked “Keys”. This observation made them stop. They were in unfamiliar territory and to step back to consider what kind of person they were dealing wth. To them it was obvious that this was some form of nasty police trick. They had heard rumors that the police were getting desparate to crackdown on the area. The car was probably rigged with some sort of alarm that would go off if someone so much as breathed on the car. And if they did maybe from nowhere would come thirty police cars that would pounce on that person. Another thought they had was far worse. Maybe the car belonged to some
crazed mofia head who just for sake wanted to see if anyone would steal his car. The mofia loved to test people and it was dangerous to mess with the mob. Taking no chances, this group
moved on fast. After several hours of different peoples coming and going, the car remained untouched. Eventually, a man dressed in a suit walked towards the car. People gathered to see what would
happen. He removed the sign from the car’s window and made his way to the door. When he opened it many people didn’t know what to expect. Nothing happened. There were no alarms, no police came. and maybe for the first time in the street’s history there was silence as the crowd waited to see what would happen next. The man paused, picked up the envelope and removed the keys. Within a moment, he started the car and was gone. The crowd just stared blankly not knowing what to think. The man was the actual owner of the car. He knew that if he left the car unattended in that neighbor, it would be stripped, painted, generally dismantled, and no amount of protection
would be able to save his car. He decided to use a better method to protect his car, reverse
psychology.
I sat in a nice directors style chair with a golden star on its back. A woman was fixing my hair and taking the greatest of care with my make-up. I looked my best ever. I held in my hands the script and practiced my lines for the next scene. I noticed that the set was being prepared for my scene. It is really quite amazing how they can make any setting come to life. Just a few
moments ago the set was of a deli restaurant. Yet now by moving things here and others there the set looked like the apartment of a secret agent, who was being portrayed by... well, I don’t
like to name drop... but let’s just say that he had an Austrian accent and big muscles. I said my lines outloud, I liked the way that they sounded when I said them. I was really quite convincing. The director called me to the set. I was ready. Ready for my role and ready for stardom. The director called out action. It was my role to walk down the hallway and knock upon the
secret agent's door. With confidence I strode down the fake hallway of the Hollywood set and knocked on the door. I was worried that I had knocked too hard, but everyone seemed quite
pleased with my performance so far. The door opened and the secret agent said his line, it was my turn. For many years I dreamed of this moment. I thought about the future and the critics' reviews. Maybe they would call my performance stunning, refreshing, and true to life and call me as a bright new star. What would I say for my Academy award acceptance speech?
With all these thoughts racing through my head, I said my line, “ Here’s your pizza.” I was finished and a star was born. “Put on your shoes it’s time for school,” his mom said with some agitation. Wiggling his feet into shoes as he left, he hurried to the bus stop. He had missed it and watched it as speeded off to school. “Oh well”, he thought. He was going to be late again. This didn’t bother him too much now, but he knew that he would get another visit to the principle’s office. This was usually followed by the speech. He really hated the speech, which always began with “responsible boys....”. The rest he never listened to, so that’s all he remembered. He began walking. It would take about twenty minutes, so lots of time to think of good excuse. Instead, thinking about this he thought of a story. What if the bus had an accident? Maybe, it was driving too fast and hit a car. And what if it turned over and over many times. And what if all the children inside were killed horribly. The school would have to close down for the day. All the teachers would feel so bad and probably cry. This thought
made him smile. They probably would be crying right now. “Wouldn’t they be so glad I didn’t get on the bus”, he thought. He thought some more, “I would tell them I had a premonition that
something terrible was going to happen. I knew that I couldn’t get on the bus. They would be so happy that I was spared. ‘ Thank goodness’ and ‘What good luck’ they would say. ” He began running. He felt as this was not a story, but had actually happened. When he arrived at the school, he began to feel strange, worried. Did it happen? The school bus wasn’t
there as it should have been. Also, the principle was standing in front of the school and looked troubled. Maybe it did happen. Thoughts are powerful things they can make stuff happen. Maybe, his thoughts had caused the bus to have an accident. He was a murder. Maybe, they would lock him up or he would have to stay in detention until he was a very old man. “I didn’t mean it; I’m sorry; They were my friends and I killed them,” his mind was racing. These thoughts slowed his pace as he approached the school. He had to confront the principle, who was now staring at him with disapproving eyes. “Could he know?” Tears began flowing down his face. “I‘m so sorry...” he said as got close to the principle. As he said this he noticed in the corner of his eye, the bus, it was parked behind the school. “You better be sorry”, the principle said “ this is the second time this week you are late. Responsible boys....” It is amazing how powerful thoughts can be. When you are nine going on ten, thoughts can be real. In the window of my favorite shop hung what seemed like a thousand paper Santas.Each was slightly different and all very magical to me. Their faces had been hand-painted by children artists and they all seemed so happy dangling in the shop window. I must have stood there for about an hour memorizing each detail. I didn’t notice the cold, even though by the time my mom found me my nose and ears were quite red. It took her several minutes to break the trance that I was in. Everyday I visited the shop to stare at the Santas. They had been folded in the shape of Santa with such care that I marveled at the possibility of making one. This became my life’s goal, to make a paper Santa. I gathered the supplies that I figured it would require and packed two lunches. I figured I was going to have to leave for a while. During the night, dressed in my warmest clothes, thick winter coat, and long red hat, I snuck out of my house. I went to my secret spot. My secret spot wasn’t much of a secret because it was the tree house in the back of my house. I climbed
up the rungs and sat in the middle of the tree house. Aided with my father’s flashlight, I began the great task. First, I cut dozens of red papers which I placed on the floor around me. Even though I had spent much time analyzing how the Santas were made, I didn’t really understand how it could be done without glue. Thus, I brought lots of glue which I generously spread over all the papers. This had taken quite some time. I was preparing the cotton balls which I was going to use to make the paper Santa’s beard, when I fell fast asleep. In the morning, my parents noticed that I was not in my room or anywhere to be found. They became very worried and my note didn’t make them feel any better. I wrote: “I GON TO MAK PAPR SANTA.” Not realizing that I was just in the tree house, my parents began to search for me. They went to the shop where the paper Santas were. Seeing that I was not there, my mother became frantic. It was noon by the time they returned home. I was just waking up at the time, I had slept very comfortably on the cotton ball pillow that was in front of me. When I lifted my head, I
noticed that the cotton balls also lifted up. During my sleep I had accidently glued them to my face. Also, I had rolled in my sleep so all the red papers were stuck to my coat. My situation
disturbed me because everything seemed so well stuck that I worried that it was never going to get them unstuck. I immediately climbed down from the tree house and ran to my house. My parents saw me as I came into the house. I must have looked very strange. I was dressed in my warmest clothes which were very thick, this gave me the appearance of being very fat. The
cotton balls on face looked like a white beard under my long red hat. Also, the red papers made my coat look red and me as if I were made out of paper. I looked like a giant paper Santa. My parents were so relieved that they gave me a great big hug. Later, they told me that I had made the best paper Santa ever. There are many things that can be used as weapons. I heard stories where even the most unlikely object was used a weapon. Like the story about the man, who had killed his wife with a toothpick. It was a gruesome story. The man had broken the toothpick into two and mixed the pieces into her porridge. She was always a fast eater and swallowed one of the pieces whole. I guess she must have died painfully when it lodged into her throat. Another story I remember was about the boy who killed the great grizzly bear with a piece of string. Well, at first I didn’t believe it could be done, but the explanation was quite reasonable. The bear had been chasing the boy for quite some time and it looked as though he was a goner, when he had run to the edge of a cliff. He had nowhere to go and the bear was running toward him. Luckily a piece of string was strung across the path. The string caught the grizzly’s foot tripping it. The bear unable to recover its balance in time plunged over the cliff. I questioned the storyteller about how the string could have been strong enough to do this. The storyteller told me that the string was the strong thick kind which was used to mark park paths and that boy had been lucky that he hadn’t tripped over the string as well. These were unusual weapons, but there are practical weapons as well like guns, knives, clubs, and so forth. We have all heard stories where these had been used to kill. We all know how effective these weapons are at killing. Well, the time had come I had to think. There must be something that couldn’t be used as a weapon. I had done many bad things for which I now regret. I’ve killed many people, many ways. Now it was my turn to die. The court decided that I could choose the weapon which would cause my death. In the room there was silence as everyone witnessing the trial awaited my answer. I could think of nothing... “That’s it! Nothing!” I said out loud. “I choose nothing”, I said with confidence. “So be it” the judge said firmly “the court sentences you to die by nothing.” I smiled. I had won. I continued to smile, until I was taken to a small room that was empty, completely devoid of weapons. Except one that is, nothing was there and without something, air, I quickly died. ‘Click’ was the sound that made my ears perk up, waking me from my sleep. ‘Click’ I heard I heard it again. There was no question in my mind now as to what it was. I was being robbed. The thief was smart and had gotten two of the numbers correct on the safe. It was only a matter of time, before there would a third ‘click’, the safe would be opened, and the contents removed. I had heard these sounds because I had trained my ears to hear them. I had been robbed before and wasn’t going to let it happen to me again. Also, I had rigged the safe to make a loud “click’ each time the correct number was dialed. So by the time I heard the second ‘click’, I was ready. I had on my fuzzy bunny slippers and my robe, the one with the teddy bears and hearts on it. I must admit I didn’t look very threatening. The thief would probably just laugh, if they saw me. I grabbed the baseball bat; now I was ready, the fearsome protector. The bat was my son’s and made with blue plastic. I ran down the stairs to the safe. ‘Click!’ By time, I got to safe it was too late. It was empty. I was robbed. However, the culprit had left tracks and I was determined to catch them. The tracks were easy to follow and they led directly to my son’s room. “Oh no!”, I thought. I threw open his door with the bat held high. My son looked quite terrified as he finished the last
cookie from the cookie safe. The Albatross was the name of a bar. The name wasn’t really important, however, it just happened to be the bar where the lonely and sadden man sat. He had too many drinks and was going to drink much more. No one in the bar seemed to care or even notice him. I guess that was the story of his life. He was a man of ideas. Ideas flowed in him like water in a river. He was brilliant, but quite mad. He lacked the social skills required to communicate his ideas and would in the end leave people with the impression that he was an idiot. He felt that the people were to blame. “Why didn’t they listen?” he thought reflecting on his various attempts at talking with people. His ideas cold have saved the world. No one listened. He had no friends or family. He was alone with a mountain of knowledge to tell. From this bottled up warehouse of thought grew resentment. His ideas changed from saving the world to destroying it. If they weren’t going to listen he would make them listen. The barmaid gave him another drink and this strengthened his resolve. “Tonight I’ll think how to end mankind existence” he said out loud. The barmaid said nothing at this and only stretched out her hand for him to give her a tip. She like everyone else didn’t listen, but he gave her a quarter tip just the same. The night passed like any other. The world on the brink of destruction, but still continuing. Someday though, in some bar, like the Albatross, or coffee shop a lonely man of ideas will contemplate the end of the world and will come.
I finally met a women, whom I really liked. The relationship, though still new, was
quickly becoming serious. I didn’t mind one bit, since we seemed to hit it off quite well. I
decided to celebrate the growth of our relationship; I would buy her a gift. Actually, I’m horrible at gift shopping, but I decided to make the effort. I figured lipstick would be a good gift. It more personal than flowers. You can give anyone flowers. I went to cosmetic center at the local mall. Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead in this section. I was overwhelmed by the shear number of different shades and colors; I really had no
idea, since I had never before bought lipstick for a woman. I asked the lady working there for some help. “What color hair does she have?”, she asked. “Well, it’s sort of....dirty brown. Not
that it is dirty, but it’s just well...between blonde and brown,” I replied sounding like a complete idiot. She looked at me strangely, but continued to be professional. “She might like the brick
red,” she suggested as she handed me the lipstick. I took it removed the cover. Lifting it very close to my eyes, I examined the color. It wasn’t really what I wanted. I was just about to give it back to the lady, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned quickly out of surprise. I had turned so quickly that managed to put the lipstick across my collar and almost poked my friend in the eye with the lipstick. “Be careful” he said dogging the lipstick, “you could really hurt someone with that. So you got a new girlfriend. Well it’s about time.” “Yeah,” I said not really wanting to talk with him. “Lipstick is not really a good gift. Nothing says ‘I love you’ better than flowers,” he said trying to be helpful. I gave the woman back the lipstick, she looked somewhat upset with me. I didn’t buy the lipstick, maybe my friend was right. Later that night, I met my girlfriend. She looked so happy to see me. I gave her the flowers I bought. She looked even more happy; my friend was right. She was so in love with me
at that moment, that she was going to kiss me there, in the middle of the street. She was about an inch away from my face, when she stopped. Her facial expression immediately changed. Her
face dropped and she stared coldly at me. “What’s wrong?” I asked not knowing why she was upset. “Your collar...what’s that on your collar?”, she was pointing at the lipstick stain. “oh,
that....” I didn’t realize that I had gotten lipstick on my collar, “it’s nothing.” “Nothing! who is she?” her voice was very loud. It was so loud that I felt very uncomfortable. “She who?”, I still didn’t realize what she must have been thinking. From then on the conversation only got worse. It ended with her saying that she never wanted to see me again. I realized that flowers really do make a better gift. For centuries vampires had feed on the flesh of man. Vampires were a plague, which burdened the small country towns which they fed upon. Vampire slayers were born out of the hatred the vampires had created. There would be no more vampires, the slayers would see to that. With each generation of vampire slayer, the vampires became weaker. And with each generation the slayers grew strong. One family lead this fight. This family passed down this legacy to the first son and taught him at an early age the skills he would need to be a slayer. The vampire slayers were made strong with religion and it was said they could smell the evil and rot of a vampire a mile away. It was this skill of smelling their prey, that lead the slayer to the den of the last of the vampires. This slayer was stronger than any of his predecessors. On his back he carried a large sack, which was filled with crosses that were sharpened at one end. It had not been hard for him to find the den for the
stench of death was unmistakable. Under the protection of the sun he and his assistant entered the crypt. They knew the danger they faced they had only a few hours with which to work. The vampires could not wake until the sun was set and were helpless. The slayers made their way to the basement of the castle. With their torch light, they could see hundreds of coffins which filled the large room. With haste they went about their gruesome task. They must have killed hundreds of vampires. There wasn’t enough time, the hours had passed too quickly and the sun was setting, and still there remained more vampires. Covered in blood the slayer pressed on. He would not relent, even though he assistant pleaded with him to leave. These were the last of the vampires and the slayer would not quit until they were destroyed. As he was pounding the cross into the chest of a female vampire, he heard the screams of his assistant,
“They’re awake!” The eyes of the female vampire opened. Without flinching the slayer drove the cross into the awakened vampire. It was one thing to kill a vampire when they were sleeping, but quite another to kill them when they were awake. The vampires leaped from the coffins and pounced upon the two intruders. The slayers fought them off bravely, but was soon overpowered. The assistant was dead and his body was torn into many pieces. Even with the great strength of the vampires, it had taken four
vampires to control him and five others had lost their lives in the process. Another vampire stood and watched. Once the slayer was completely restrained, this vampire spoke. “I have watched you slayer for a long time. I know of your ways. I know you have killed many of my kind. I want the curse you bring to end with you. If I kill you, this will not happen. Instead I choose to make you one of us.” the vampire spoke the words with a calmness that was most unsettling. The slayer spit and fought, but could not break free. The vampires bit into him. They did not kill him.
They only drank enough blood to infect him. “Let him go.” said the main vampire seeing that the others might drink too much. The four vampires released the slayer and he slumped to the ground. “Soon you will be one of us. You body will die and you will be a child of the night.” when the vampire spoke these words slayer stood up. “I shall never become one of you.” the slayer spoke these words with a new found energy built of hatred. The energy surged through him and struck at the vampires, killing all but the main one. His strength began to fail him; he was dying and his ears throbbed, as the sounds of the night seemed to pound within them. He again fell to the ground and layed in a twisted ball. The last vampire laughed at him. “Now, it has happened and we are truly brothers. I know that it your way to not take
your own life, thus you shall always be a vampire. You must learn about the vampire code. It is our code to only eat the flesh of man.” The slayer’s body had changed. It looked pale and his eyes glowed red like those of an animal at night. However, he was yet completely a vampire. His strong sense of spiritual purity and inherent goodness remained intact. He may have become a vampire but he was not going to accept their evil ways. The slayer stood, aided by the last vampires hand. The slayer pulled the
last vampire toward him and spoke. “Brothers....” his nails dug into the vampire’s arm as he said this. “Good night brother” as the slayer said this, with his other hand he thrusted a piece of wood, that he had hidden behind his back, into the heart of the vampire. “I shall never eat the fresh of man.” these were the
last words the vampire heard as he died, eyes filled with disappointment. The slayer had won. He had rid the world the vampires, except for one himself. He vowed that he would never eat human flesh and that he would remain in the castle. He would wait until another slayer would come to end his life. He had eat though and breaking the vampire code he fed upon the rats that filled the catacombs. It took many rats to fill his hunger, but he found that the rats would be able to support him. He did not need to feed on man to survive. In a dark corner of the room, one of the rats which the slayer had fed upon stirred. The vampire curse had transferred to the rats. The newly born vampires woke with a hunger which they needed to satiate. The vampire rats stiffed the air. From the nearby town, they could smell food, human food. Thousands of rats descended upon the town.
“STEAL ME”
SET
There is something unusual about the way things seem to happen without reason. Just the other day I had been working as a pizza delivery boy, now look at me. I stand here in the middle of a
big Hollywood set with cameras rolling, famous people practicing their lines, and bright lights shining down. My parents said that I would never amount to much. They were people of little faith in my natural talent. I knew this day would come and I would be a star. One day I am pizza a delivery boy, the next day I’m a actor in a hollywood blockbuster. It all happened so suddenly I had delivered pizza to the casting director for the movie. He took one look at me and said I was perfect. I knew that I was good but I blushed when he said I was perfect. My parents always called me perfect too, they said that I was a perfect waste of life. I think they meant that in the nicest of all possible ways though. They had been so worried about me moving to hollywood with my half-sussed plan of becoming a star. Maybe, I was blessed by fate and all my dreams would come true.
Bus
Paper Santas
Weapon
'Click'
Albatross
Lipstick
Vampire Code
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