My Loneliness Writes

No matter how many times Im told I'm not alone, I feel more alone. The crickets and the tic tock of clocks are unhappy reminders every evening of how alone I truly am. Waves of decent gestures, big written notes of get wells and moments of time spliced into smiles and laughter shared with people who believe to love me make me feel more alone and I don't know how to shut off my mind. How do I shut off my true feelings of not wanting to blink or breath? I keep wishing to the Universe that when I go to sleep I don't wake up to see the next day filled with falsehood and unsolicited hellos. I am swamped in a world where I stare at walls and choke on hopes that my life would be better in some other form. It's very easy to tell someone that it will be okay rather than to prepare them for truth and that is life is unknown, the paths we walk we could have every bit of energy directed to a positive but torn completely towards another way in an instant. My instant came and I have no idea how to navigate in this. I don't know how I can keep up the facade that I want to be here living the way I am. We are taught that death is an end or possibly a beginning of something. We hang on to notions of damnation towards others who feel like I feel and that's simply just checking out so my energy can check into a new life. I'm unsure if it will be better than what I desire desperately to leave behind but I know pain, true internal emotional pain can't follow. I've held in the belief that my life is ruined, but really its just the idea of what I wanted and wished my life to be for 20 something years and a forceful reset has been pressed but not by my own hand. I think if I pressed it, it wouldn't be this way. I was totally faking it till I made it these past few months, but damn I am very tired. People keep saying have strength, have this to look towards or that... what the fuck? What the fuck! What the fuck! Nothing makes sense, we just keep faking it and making it appear to make sense of senselessness with no one taking responsibility. I honestly don't want to be here anymore and it doesn't scare me, however I am worried about those who are in my circle stomping on my ashes calling me names and being angry so know your fire prevents my candle from burning out, but I don't want to be here. I am as I have always been since I was a little, waiting for my death by external means so I can finally say goodbye.

The Daring Escape - Excerpt from The Armageddon Lecture Vol. One

           Tinara had no choice but to leave her dear Antri behind as Qopporhed and the guards clawed their way up and out of the ventilation shaft after her. Disoriented, she found herself in a dock bay of the Ark transport ships. Frantically she hobbled behind a storage bunker. She covered her mouth so the chasing reptiles wouldn’t hear her heavy breathing, but she could hear them.

            “Split up!” commanded Qopporhed. “That human could not have gone far. I can still smell it!”

            Blood dripping from her palms made her realize that she left a trail of bloody footprints. Tall shadows came closing in.

            “I can’t out run them!” she thought, “If I have any chance to make it I won’t be able to stay behind this bunker for long! Please, God, don’t leave me!”

She made a run for it!

            “There is the human! After it!”

            Desperate times called for desperate measures. Up ahead, Tinara noticed that an Ark was left with its cockpit open. It never crossed her mind that she had never flown one before, so climbing inside and madly punching the buttons on the control panel was like second nature to her. Knowledge of Melonite hieroglyphics allowed Tinara to at the very least understand which buttons did what. Before she knew it, the Ark’s engines fired up and it began to drift forward.

            She steered it to the landing strip, but not before Qopporhed and the Venom guards jumped on top. Tinara never figured out how to close the cockpit hatch, but with her desperation possessing her every thought, she pushed the throttle until it could go no further. The Ark shot to the sky in seconds. The Venoms couldn’t keep their grip and one by one they were flung to their demise.

            Now that she had a moment to breathe, Tinara figured out which button closed the cockpit. She had no idea where she was going, but she was going somewhere and that’s all that mattered.

It hit her like a ton of bricks; Tinara saw her caretaker for the last time.

           Tears spilled over.

           “I’ll come back for you, Antri. I prom―”

           The cockpit’s cargo door opened! Qopporhed barged in and unloaded upon her a vicious bare-knuckled assault. Tinara fended him off the best she could, but the Venom quickly made it apparent that her arms were too short to box with the Devil. She kicked him and then she kicked him again. His hands were reduced to shields that failed to protect what was left of his now forever damaged reproductive organs. One last scrotum buster knocked him into the control panel. Qopporhed must’ve hit the throttle in the process, because in a matter of seconds, the Ark shattered the sound barrier.

As they turbulently blurred throughout Melonite airspace, the furious Venom tangled his scaly mitts in her dreadlocks. He easily could’ve ripped her hair out if he wanted, but instead, Qopporhed rammed Tinara into the control panel over and over again until her fight was over.

            He tossed the inanimate escapee to the floor, activated the Ark’s wyspor, and then patched through to Dirge.    

            “I have apprehended the human,” he said in obvious pain.

            “Well, it is about time!”

           “What should we do now?”

            “Take her to King Venomous,” said Dirge. “He will know what to do!”

            “There is no time. Murderar’s ordination will begin in any moment.”

            “Precisely…”

            Concussed and bloodied, Tinara felt the Ark turn around, and then she passed out.

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Septemvittata Khanquisidor - Excerpt from The Armageddon Lecture Vol. One

              Her dying body rested on the cobblestone floor of his royal bedchamber. Beyond discontented, King Venomous collapsed to his knees beside her. The unknown pestilence’s most prized victim, Melonon’s queen snake, Septemvittata Khanquisidor, was set to give birth.

            “I have failed you, Khanquisidor, for I have failed Melonon,” the uncharacteristically saddened King uttered.

            “Oh, Venomous, ah — do not — worry yourself so,” gargling blood, the Septemvittata managed still to reinforce positivity despite the negative outlook her King maintained. “I know that — this is not, ah — the end of us. You will find a way…”

            With sap-like consistency, blood as blue as if it never touched air, seeped from every hole in her reptilian body. Septemvittata Khanquisidor’s unyielding Melonite pride allowed her to conjure the energy to push out the first six eggs, but as predicted they were doomed. The black tar-like substance that once was an unborn hatchling volcanically erupted from the ovular greenish eggs. Screams of excruciating pain weren’t only because of hatchling birth; the hell rendering finale compelled Septemvittata Khanquisidor to experience the torturous suffering of each of her hatchlings’ untimely deaths as if each death was her own.

            Exploded heart fragments joined the black tar all over the now death soaked King. And there before him, his warrior queen snake, Septemvittata Khanquisidor, was no more.

            Emotions; they didn’t exist to the heartless Melonites, at least not until then. If he only knew what tears were, King Venomous would’ve understood why his rattlesnake grimace was wet with salty water. Draped with failure, the answerless King plopped his head upon his dead matriarch’s stomach in sorrow.

            To his surprise, her stomach was rock solid. Desperation flirted with determination as he impaled his scaly arm deep into the disease-infested womb of the sacrificial mother. What he so joyously extracted was a pure white, hard-shelled, seventh egg. Not a moment passed before the lone scion broke loose from its shell and King Venomous could finally embrace his perfectly healthy son.

            The King took one last look at his fallen Septemvittata and the six hatchlings that never were thus compelling his newborn son to do the same. King Venomous didn’t say anything, he couldn’t; he simply turned away from the biological violence that undid his whole world and walked away.

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Dr. Novich's heart dripped from King Venomous’ palm: Excerpt from T.A.L. Volume One: The Apocalyptic Genesis

   Emperor Saintus witnessed the unearthly terror. In his heart of hearts, he knew they came in their Godly disguises only to do the Devil’s work.

            The guardsman taken hostage shouted, “There he is! That’s the emperor!”

            The evident leader of the armored snakes aggressively propelled the demand-fulfilling guardsman into the wall, but never broke eye contact with Emperor Saintus.

            Before advancing, Lieutenant Vyper noticed blood oozing from the deep wound left upon General Calligaster’s shoulder. He said with a smirk, “I cannot believe you allowed a human to so much as touch you, Calligaster!”

            Nothing excited him more than the shed of blood even if it were his own. General Calligaster admired how it embellished his muscularity and gravitated to the ivory floor.

            “The blood I shed on this land marks the territory in which I have laid my warpath!”

Fetal positioned against the wall; it must’ve been all in the guardsman’s head when Emperor Saintus cried for him to run, because those words never left his mouth. The Emperor sweated bullets for the unlikely accomplice as General Calligaster raised a foot to his head.

            “Die, human!”

            He could do nothing but watch the giant snake unleash his frustration against the human race when he stomped that poor soul’s skull in. A dismayed Emperor Saintus raced back into the medical ward and held as tight as he could his wife and newborn daughter.

            Dr. Novich wondered what had the Emperor so spooked. He peaked outside.

            “Doctor, get away from the door!” he shouted from across the gurney.

            The majestic rattlesnake’s grimace was the doctor’s last sight. With fingertips sharp as needles, King Venomous punctured his scrawny chest. Blood was spouted all over.

Empress Leona screamed, “This isn’t real! This can’t be happening!”

            Between long, sharp fangs lashed a split-tongue when the armored monstrosity proceeded to tear through the Doctor’s chest. All anyone saw was this bloodied, black, and scaly arm exited from the spinal column. In an outrage, he threw a lifeless Dr. Novich into a surgical table.

            The terrified family stayed huddled together on the gurney as they were approached by the murderous reptilian triune. Empress Leona could only pray that her husband’s protective embrace was enough to keep them safe, but God mustn’t have been listening that day. 

            Dr. Novich's heart dripped from King Venomous’ palm. The King raised the dead muscle to their horror-drenched faces and wrung it like an over-absorbent sponge.

            “I come in peace!”

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"Filling The Messiahs" Excerpt From The Armageddon Lecture Vol One

Upon their exit of the grand medical ward, Lieutenant Vyper received an urgent transmission from Dirge on his wyspor.

“The Messiahs have surpassed the ninety percent arsenal exhaustion threshold! We will not be able to fend the humans off much longer! Besides, the Messiahs are at full capacity! It is time to make haste if we plan on leaving victorious! Dirge out!”

“But that is impossible!” exploded King Venomous. “We hardly have enough humans to repopulate the northern sector let alone Melonon in its entirety!”

“I understand, my Lord, but ―”

“No, Vyper, you do not understand! Until each word in every human vernacular that is associated with their female species ceases to exist, until the solitary cages, cargo bays, munitions zones, and even the pulpits are chocked-full of them, until their journey to Melonon is as unpleasant for them as it is for me to take them there; the Messiahs will not be at capacity, so fill them!”

“Your Highness, remember that we only have twelve Messiahs. Even if we reach the capacity you desire, the sought after numerical prerequisite would still be impossible to achieve! Furthermore, our fuel economy is regulated only for the capacity in which all Messiahs have currently reached; anything more and we risk not making it back to Melonon at all! That would mean we die, rather unceremoniously might I add. It is like you said, dying is not an option we have.”

“Fill them!” demanded King Venomous.

“Very well, Your Highness.”

Assertively, the Melonite triune made their way out of the Imperial Palace. The once sanctified headquarters of the Empire of Earth was defaced by the carnage of its noble protectors. Unmelodic whimpers of those who hung on by threads serenaded their departure.

Heavenward they went; the symbols of God and the judgment deliverers, taking with them pieces of what made the Empire of Earth so beautiful, pieces gone forever.

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