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Home Sweet Home

 

The Great Campaign

The Great Campaign is a historical fiction novel about the Tectosages during the Celtic campaign against Greece in 279 B.C. Follow the Chief of the Tectosages in all his adventures.  Purchase the Great Campaign today before it is out on Amazon!

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Cymraeg

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"a route a way always.

can be the kind one.

See hell in death.

Welsh speakers coexist.

Travel away (in) love."

(Translated from The Black Book Of Carmathen)

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The Hidden Wisdom Inside 'The Life of Michelangelo'

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The Set

The Set

by Colin Griffith

Almost no one bought tickets until that day, the day they heard that Alice In Chains was opening for MotorHead in Seattle.  Who knows how it happened?  But it did.

The doors opened at seven, the crowd gathered at six.  Alice In Chains used to play here.  “What songs would they play?  They can only play so many?  So no encore?  I don’t see how they could?  But how long do they get to play?  We don’t even know!”

The doors opened the crowd rushed in, the band had yet to take the stage.  Five minutes passed, the crowd ordered drinks while some went to smoke cigarettes.  Ten minutes!  Can you not wait ten minutes!  Five more minutes passed, Layne came out on stage followed by the band.

“Bury me softly in this womb…”

“Down in a hole first?  Is this the only song they are going to play?”

“Shhhhh!”

“Holding red flowers in a tomb…”

The performance was perfect and the audience started to leave, as if they expected no further songs.  The band had been hired to play five songs, so they began the next one.

“Time to change has come and gone, watch your fears become your god… it’s your decision.”

The crowd began to drift back in as the guitars set the rhythm in.  “It’s your decision…”

Smiles on their faces the crowd began to gleam as the lights lit the room.  “You feel the fire that burned us all, when you lied… to feel the pain that spurs you on black inside…”

That is when the crowd turned around to leave again, thinking that they had seen it all.

“And hear you stand before us all and say its over.”

Hearing those lines the crowd began to return to the theatre.  The rest of the song was a tug of war between the band’s desire to play and the crowds desire to smoke, drink, or fuck.

“No one plans to take the path that brings you lower…”

“It’s over…”

The crowd stood stupefied.  The band had one moment to grab their attention and seize it firmly in their grasp; No Excuses!

“It’s alright, there comes a time, got no patience to search for piece of mind…”

They crowd began to groove and shake as they finally found the rhythm. “Every day its something hits me all so cold, you find me sitting by myself, no excuses that I know…”  People began to dance wildly knocking over beers spraying the liquid all over the room.

“Trained in blue, I bleed for you, you think its funny well you’re drowning in it too.”  People began to swear at each other over the spilled beers and incessant indoor smoking.

“Every day its something hits me all so cold, you find me sitting by myself, no excuses that I know…”

People started to fight, something needed to be said to bring them back!

“Leave our rain, a cold trade for warm sunshine…”

That line brought the people together, so they could prepare for the next song.

“Yeah, hey, I, want to travel south with you.”

“I won’t, won’t prevent safe passage here.

They hugged and they cried as the band sang with the crowd joining in.

Once more Layne stood centerstage and belted out, “Yeah, hey, yeah, tears that soak a calloused heart.”  That was it! That could have been the show but the song was not finished.

“I stay away…!”

And they continued, following the rolling rhythms of guitars riding the bass.

The band sang again, “Why you act crazy?”

The whole crowd sang with Layne, “I stay away…!  I stay away…!   I stay away…  I stay away!”

The crowd could have died right with the end of the song, but the contract said one more.  There was only one choice.

“Hey, I ain’t never coming home.”

People put their arms over each others shoulders and swayed side to side for the first two verses of the song, just listening and embracing one another.

“Misery so hollow…”

As the swaying continued no one talked.  No one asked if the band was going to be able to keep this together, to pull this off.  No one said a word, but a few sang.

“It hurts to care I go now.”

The crowd stopped swaying, they stopped moving entirely.  Then, the guitar rolled in, gently and smoothly, but hard as rock!  The harmonica sang the tale and the people danced.

“Oh forgot my woman, lost my friends, things I’ve done and where I’ve been…”

They began to chant, “Home!  Home!  Home!”

“Yeaaah, take me home!”

“Home!”

“Take me home!”

“Home”

“Take me home.”

“Say goodbye don’t follow…”

The Day The Men Went To Catraeth

Y Teule necerrai y elera I

Fue kasait fuer Onr gaebai fue Aion

Dwi’ beth ydy Christos, Amen


"The Day The Men Went To Catraeth"

The men went to Catraeth, riding with the dawn.

Three hundred against ten thousand,

Engaged in mutual overthrow.

Better had they gone to do penance,

Then ride to war that day.

The men went to Catraeth, riding with the dawn.

Ere the night was long, but never will they be forgotten,

Christ keeps them in his sight.

Owain, the golden haired charger,

On a brilliant steed of white,

With shield and spear he clove afar,

Showing all his endless might.

From dawn til dusk there seemed no end,

To this infernal fight.

From the field, none did return unscathed,

By fire and steel, blood painted the shield,

On that day none did yield.

The day the men went to Catraeth.

Oh Christ please keep men in your sight!

The Bells

The Bells

by Colin Griffith

When I came to this Kingdom all I heard was the bells,

The bells, the bells, the bells.

They rang, They sang, They played all day

Songs of life, melodies of love, harmonies of death.

Where do you come from?

I come from the Dells.

Why are you here?

To hear the bells.

For months on end, endless bells,

Then they slowly disappeared.

A sudden attack, rot from inside,

A city under siege,

A perilous time indeed.

Week to week an ongoing fight,

Men at the walls,

Fiends outside,

Secure the women,

There are villains inside.

Use your might,

Fight for right,

Lock and Load,

Shoot real slow,

Wait for calm to reappear.

A new day dawns, much too silent,

Use this time,

To prepare to fight.

Another attack,

We have been pushed back.

Stand your ground,

We have nowhere to run.

Rearm! Rearm! Rearm!

Bring in more food from the farms!

If we can only stand so much longer…

Let us try a ruse,

Spread the news,

Make a trap,

Lure them in,

Now they are here,

Nowhere they should be.

Lock the door,

A silent roar,

Watch them run,

Begin pursuit,

We have one chance to win,

Sirens aloud, Through the streets,

There they are, take them now

Whatever the cost,

There, they have lost.

The city is ours,

Reclaim the land,

Order restored,

We have won the day,

Let the bells sing once more.

The Other Kind of Sense

"See her eyes,

Each one a tiny universe,

Enormous in scope.

Lose yourself in the depths.

There is no need to fear,

For if you are lost in her,
She will find you there."

-Excerpt from, The Other Kind of Sense.

The Other Kind of Sense is a collection of writings about society, love, and faith in a senseless world.

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Dylan

Purchase the epic poem, Dylan inspired by The Raid, from www.Lulu.com for only $6.00!

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The Magic Book

Read The Magic Book, a basic instruction manual to using Magic The Gathering Cards to perform astrology.  Buy it now from www.LuLu.com for only$7.00!

Calm Lake

Prologue:

Life was peaceful around Calm Lake and had been for as long as anyone could remember.  The mountains surrounding the lake kept away most of those unwelcome critters while each year the lake was refreshed by a river flowing down from the mountains into the lake; waters crisp and clean like only the water from a glacier can be.

On this lake lived families of otters, ducks, and even loons.  They were a close knit tribe of different creatures.  There were no hostile animals or those who were not willing to respect the rights and boundaries of others.  They all lived on the lake in harmony and settled any disputes by a vote amongst the elders of all the families.

This would all change one day, however, when a new powerful kind of animal would arrive out of nowhere to come and dominate the other smaller animals.  It would take the courage and ingenuity of the young animals to go out into the wilderness and find a way to restore their homeland to the paradise it once was.

However, just for the moment, we can begin the tale at a happier time — the time of the Fall Harvest Festival; a time for sports, community, and feasting.

Chapter 1:

Peter swam as hard as he could and he passed another otter.  Suddenly, he was in first place in the race across Calm Lake.  He knew he was going to win – for such was the way young animals thought about those things.  He could already taste the smoked trout that was to go to the winner.  Peter was getting closer and closer to the shore and the finish line.  Yet just at that moment, another otter passed him and sped off towards the finish line.  It was Mark.  He was so shocked at the speed of the otter that he choked on an enormous gulp of water, and just by a fraction of a second splashed his way across the finish line before the otter behind him.  Mark had already gotten on firm ground while Peter coughed up water in the clear shallow of the lake, gasping for air.  He then smelled the delicious odor of smoked fish  The smell hypnotized him for about five seconds before he regained his senses.   He walked onto the sandy shored and shook the water out of his fur coat.  Then, Peter congratulated the winner politely as Mark received the wonderfully smelly fish, and then he walked off to help his friend Sam the duck get a log ready for the coming log rolling competition.

When he ventured over to the area where they were trimming the log, Sam said to Peter, “You swam great today, you were going faster than anyone else, or so I thought until the end.”

“Thanks,” said Peter as he ripped a little twig off that could ruin an animal’s attempt to stand on the rolling log.  “I just wish I had something to eat, swimming that far makes you just want to have a whole feast just for yourself.  But I would settle for a few roasted nuts.”

Sam replied, “It is funny you should say that.  I brought along some roasted nuts for myself.  I am not hungry anymore so you can have the rest of them.”

Peter tore off another bigger twig off and took the nuts from Sam.  He was so hungry he simply poured the nuts into his mouth.  He chewed for about five seconds, smacked his lips, and let out a loud belch.

Sam told him while he laughed, “That is also the fastest I have ever seen anyone devour roasted nuts.  You know what this hot day – surprisingly hot for autumn – makes me want to?  Let us go for a swim over to the waterfall at the other end of the lake.  We can go diving for fish along the way.  When we get there we can set up a camp and spend the night under the stars.”  Before Sam could say anything else, Peter started running to the edge of the lake and jumped in and began to yell at Sam to hurry up.

Sam started flapping his wings and rose into the air, and then he sped towards the lake with tremendous speed, for ducks are spectacular flyers.  He landed behind Peter and said, “Was that fast enough for you?”

Yet, Peter had just as quickly submerged, and he came up underneath Sam, propelling him into the air.  Sam gave a loud quack and said, “Hey!”

Peter just back-floated lazily on the water, laughing so hard that he lost his position and he went under where he swallowed more water.  He popped up again, grabbed onto a nearby log that was floating around.  He continued laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face while he coughed water up out of his lungs.  Sam flew over and landed on the log and started to laugh with him,

As they examined the log they were on, they both noticed one thing.  It was an almost perfect log for logrolling; it had no branches and almost no twigs or defects.  As soon as they noticed this they quickly decided to engage in a bout of their favorite pass-time, logrolling.  They each stood on the log and began to take quick little steps.  The log began to roll and they continued their way across the lake.

When they neared the waterfall, the force of the water pounding on the lake made it so that the log could not get any closer.  Peter was just about to push Sam into the water when all of a sudden Sam soared into the air.  Peter began to push at nothing and almost instantly he fell into the water.  This time it was Sam’s turn to laugh hysterically.  When Peter recovered and resurfaced Sam flew in circles above him and said, “Come on, let us go find a place to camp for the night.”

They chose to stay close to the waterfall, yet also remain in an area that was concealed.  They chose a spot near the lake, with cliffs on one side – from the waterfall, and dense forest on the other two – with plenty of hiding spots for small animals – and the lake on the final side.  Neither otters nor ducks like to be far away from water.  Once they had chosen their campsite the pair of friends walked to the lake near the waterfall to catch their dinner.  It was not long before each of them had caught a couple fish, seeing as the lake animals dwelled on the far end of the lake.

They were starting a fire at their campsite, for these were civilized animals at Calm Lake when all of a sudden Peter saw something in the lake, a pink salmon.  Peter silently slunk into the lake and then he dove down deep.  Sam could make out Peter as a blur underwater and when Peter struck he seemed to strike as fast as lighting and grasped the slipper fish with its claws so that it could not get away.  Peter rose to the surface carrying the prize fish and swam back to camp.  When he got there he found Ben making sleeping mats out of seaweed and grass.  The fire was already going and the other fish were roasting on a rock next to the fire.  They would now have five fish to split between the two of them.  Once the fish were slowly being smoked by the fire, Peter said to Sam, “Hey, would you like to go gather berries?”

Sam replied, “Sure, I saw some huckleberries and thimbleberries in the bushes above the waterfall.”  So they headed up above the falls and sure enough there were patches of fresh thimbleberries and huckleberries, fresh and ripe for the picking.  They both picked as much as they could carry back down to their camp.  There they set them on a rock near their camp just as the fish were about to be done being cooked.  So they had a feast of fish and berries, especially with the rare catch of the salmon just as the stars were starting to come out and the crescent moon was beginning to show.  It was an almost perfect September night of camping.  The night was even warm enough that they did not need to cover themselves in their nests built by Sam the duck.  With all that food in their bellies they quickly began to nod off to sleep.  Or at least, Peter began to quickly fall asleep.  Sam was kept awake for what felt like an hour by Peter’s snores, but eventually Sam fell soundly asleep as well.

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Schizo-Frenetic

Schizo-Frenetic

Dedicated to Shane

Prologue:

“She hold her hand in mine,

Her eyes tell me she’s mine,

She needn’t say much to let me know.

I know she’ll never leave me,

Never try to begrieve me,

It’s what’s inside that makes her beauty show.”

-‘She’s Easy’, from Yesterday’s Children by Yesterday’s Children

Chapter 1: Getting High

A haze drifted through the basement swirling up and around Johnny’s head as he exhaled. Johnny passed the still burning joint to Lucas who inhaled softly and held the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before letting it go, adding to the cloud that was beginning to form above the couch in Johnny’s basement.

Lucas coughed twice and then spoke, “Dude, you have to come out to Colorado now that you’ve graduated.  Legal weed, sexy women, and huge mountains you will love it.”  Lucas took another puff and passed the joint back to Johnny.

“You do make it seem like the Promised Land,” replied Johnny who then inhaled the smoldering cannabis deeply into his lungs.

“That’s because it is,” said Lucas.  “Plus, now that Red moved back up to Oregon, we have a room for you in my house.  You can meet Tyler, he is a kick-ass skier, and Kevin, he is a musician; you’ll fit in perfectly.  I can’t believe you didn’t come out west for college.”

              Johnny took his second puff of the joint and coughed loudly as he exhaled. “What do you guys pay for rent?” he asked before passing the doobie back to Lucas.

“Two thousand, that’s five hundred a month for each of us, plus about fifty bucks a month for utilities and internet.”  Lucas paused to take another hit of the joint that was now halfway done.  “You’ll be able to manage it,” he said in between coughs. Smoke filled the room like a thick fog on the highway.  The joint still burned as ash dropped onto the floor.

“Is it hard to find a job?”

“It’s not too bad, you’ll be able to find something pretty quick.  It may not be something flashy but it will pay.  Maybe if you majored in something besides English you could find something better.”  Lucas gently knocked the excess ash off into the tray and then passed the joint back to Johnny.

“There you go knocking down the English major again,” said Johnny.

“I’m just speaking the truth.”

Johnny took a moment to inhale from the joint before replying, “Well look at how majoring in international studies turned out for you; you work in a hotel.”

“Dude, we’re both liberal arts majors so we are basically in the same boat.  Besides, I like my job at the Hilton, half the time I get paid for doing nothing.”

“You do like doing nothing,” teased Johnny while passing the nearly finished joint back to Lucas for his finals puffs.

“That’s not true!  I like doing lots of things,” Lucas retorted as he accepted the joint then held the roach up to his lips and inhaled deeply the last of the cannabis.  Skiing, partying, dancing, fucking.  I’m out to live life to the fullest.  We only have so much time to be young my man and there is no better place to be young these days than Colorado.”

“You mentioned dancing.  I hear the dance music scene in Denver is off the hook.  Do you go to many shows?”

“We go to all kinds of shows,” responded Lucas as if the question was hardly worth asking. “All year round the shows are fucking awesome in Denver.  There are all kinds of different venues: Red Rocks in the summer, the Convention Center in winter, and small shows at places like the Fillmore. That’s another reason you have to move out there. Just tell your parents that this is what you’re going to do, then do it.”

Things were always that simple with Lucas. If he wanted to do something he just went ahead and did it without pausing to question himself or others. It was simultaneously one of his greatest strengths and weaknesses.  Johnny liked to ask questions, but this was one time that he was sure that Lucas was right.  He needed a change.  He had spent his whole life living on the East coast; growing up in Connecticut, going to school in Boston.  He loved his home but he wanted people who were out there, and he wanted to be near mountains, real Rocky Mountains, not the sort of hills that he would take ski trips to in Vermont.  He needed a change. “Okay,” he said.  “I’m in.  Having a place to live already will cut down on half the trouble of moving. Then, I will just need to find a job.”

“That’s the spirit!” shouted Lucas clapping Johnny on the back.  “You are going to love it!”

Death After Life

Death After Life

C.W.

            Jason turned onto the highway thinking of nothing but the day to come.  It was Friday night and tomorrow was his son’s sixth birthday.  There would be a party, presents, and a bunch of screaming kids.  His wife would make him clean up the cake that would inevitably be thrown everywhere.  There would be conversations with other parents, and various observations made about how someone’s kid had grown so much since the last time they got together.  His wife would make him participate in inane discussions about peewee sports and the first grade teacher.  It was all a routine at this point, one weekend just like any other.

            In fact, his entire life was a routine at this point.  He worked from eight to five on Monday through Friday.  On Tuesdays, he would get a sandwich from Sammy’s Sammies.  On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays he would go to the gym where he would work out for an hour and fifteen minutes.  He would run on the treadmill for fifteen minutes, lift weights for thirty minutes, and then ride the stationary bike for another thirty minutes.  He was not even sure if ‘ride’ was the correct verb for using a bike that took you nowhere.  Then, there were the weekends.  Kid’s soccer games, birthday parties and animated movies; each event was by now reduced to simple formulas.  By this point his life was not just predictable but seemingly untenable.

            Music drifted through the radio waves; the soothing cool of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Pagan Baby” emanated throughout the car.  He rolled down the window and let the breeze blow through his hair.  It was a pleasant sixty-five degrees.  The Sun had just set and the Earth was wrapped in its warm afterglow.  He put his foot on the gas and let the car accelerate; the speed of the car catching up with the thoughts racing through his mind.  It was a two-lane highway.  On either side of the road were dense groves of hard Oak trees.  He let his focus drift from the path he was driving to the invigoration he experienced as the notes caressed his eardrum.

            Out in the distance he saw a semi-truck barreling down the oncoming lane.  The truck was black and could not be made out against the darkness, but its headlights shined brightly on the road ahead.  All of a sudden, another pair of headlights appeared in front of him.  This time they were in his lane and they were rapidly coming closer.  By the time he recognized the danger he had only seconds to react.  He turned the wheel to the right and the car careened off the road.  He thrust his foot onto the brake but it was too late.  The trunk of the tree was right in front of him.  He had time for one last thought, “My God, I am not wearing my seat belt.”

The car slammed into the tree, but the oak was thick and took the full force of the blow without breaking.  A sickening crunch could be heard as the front of the car crumpled like a piece of paper.  The glass shattered.  He was thrown forward, the last thing he remembered seeing was the steering wheel flying towards his forehead.  He felt the blow to his head but before his brain could register the pain everything went black, and then there was silence.

            He was unsure how long he was out for.  When he came to he was standing outside the wrecked vehicle.  He felt no pain, he looked fine, and there was no blood on his clothes.  He looked around.  His car was about ten meters off the side of the road.  The front of the car was demolished with the trunk of the tree pressed into the hood practically splitting it in two.  Neither the truck nor the other car had stopped.  Jason was alone.  He wondered how he had ended up outside his car completely unscathed.  He walked over to his car.  When he saw what was inside he had no clue how to react.  There he saw his lifeless body laying limp, with his bloody face smashed into the steering wheel.  He thought he would vomit but he could not.  There was nothing in his body.  He tried to touch his dead body but his hand passed right through.  Jason was smart and his mind rapidly put the pieces together.  He did not try to hide from the inevitable truth.  He was dead.  That was his body in the destroyed car.  He thought about crying but decided against it.  This was real and he had no clue what to do now.  Was he doomed to wander this roadside as a ghost for all eternity?  What about Heaven, or even Hell?

            It was at that moment that he heard a noise in the distance.  It started as a low rumbling that got louder and he heard a horn blow repeatedly.  Then, he saw a solitary light far off down the road.  The light got bigger and brighter as the rumbling darkness approached rapidly along the road.  As it got close, it started to slow down.  It stopped right where Jason’s car had left the road.  Jason averted his eyes from the oppressing brightness of the light and gazed at the monstrosity on the road.  It was a train.  The steam engine was blacker than the darkest night and it pulled wooden cars that looked like they belonged to another century.

            Jason heard the horn blow.  Then a call went out, “All aboard!”  Jason looked around but saw no one else.  He hesitated.  Did he dare board this dark mysterious train from nowhere?  Who knew where it was going or where he would end up?  If he truly was dead, was there anything left to fear.”

            The horn sounded again.  He heard another cry from the train although he could not see who made it, “Last call, all aboard!”

            The engine started to slowly inch forward.  As it began to pick up speed Jason made his decision.  He started to run alongside the train.  The tail end of a car was just about to pass him.  Soon, the train would be moving to fast for him to catch.  He reached out his arms and grabbed the handrails.  He jumped and pulled himself onto the car.  The horn blew a final time.  Jason gazed out at his destroyed car until it was lost in the distance.  He turned towards the car.  The door to the inside was before him.  He had no idea what awaited him on the other side.  He tried the handle and it was unlocked.  Jason pushed the door open and stepped inside.

            The interior of the car was undecorated.  Black wooden seats with a thin velvet cushion flanked the isle, which was covered with short red carpet.  Jason carefully took another step into the car.  He reached out his hand to touch the first seat he came too.  The wood felt solid, it felt real, but how could any of this be real?  He sat in the seat.  It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable.  The back pain he had dealt with for years was gone.  In fact, nothing in his body hurt.  He felt neither hunger nor thirst.  However, he still had all his sensations.  He could feel the smoothness of the wood as he ran his hand along the seat in front of him.  Did it even matter at this point whether it was real or not?  He was here on the train, although his body was back with his car.  He decided against trying to process everything and looked out the window.  The train was still accelerating.  The trees outside the train turned into a blur and it seemed that the train was passing out of time and space.  Jason had no idea how fast they were travelling.  The train appeared to reach its top speed and when he looked outside he could decipher nothing of the outside world.  All Jason saw was a darkness flying past.

            As he sat, drifting in and out of conscious awareness he wondered about where he was headed and what the future held.  Could he even refer to the future now that he had passed into this other world?  Did the rules of time and space even apply anymore?  Things seemed passably normal on the train, but they did not seem to apply to the train as it flew through the very fabric of reality.

            All of a sudden the door opened at the other end of the car.  A pale old man in a red and blue uniform and white hat walked in.  “Tickets,” he called out as he slowly strolled own the isle.  “Please have your tickets ready.”

            The old man seemed indifferent to the rows of empty seats before him and oblivious to Jason sitting in the back.  He passed by each row as if there were passengers in them.  Jason felt through his empty pockets for a ticket and then wondered at himself.  “Where in the Hell would I have gotten a ticket anyways,” he thought.

            When the old man finally got to Jason he stared at him blankly and said, “Your ticket please sir.”

            Jason responded, “I don’t have a ticket.”

            “You don’t have a ticket?” asked the old geezer.

            “No I do not.  I don’t know where I would have gotten one.”

            “Tickets are sold at the station.”

            “Well I got on back on the road through the woods when the train stopped.”

            “I see sir.  May I ask why you boarded the train without a ticket?”

            “Well I heard someone call out ‘All Aboard’.”

            “Hmmm, and you thought they were speaking to you.”

            “I didn’t see who else they could be talking to.”

            “And are you happy with your decision.”

            “What decision, you mean to board the train.”

            “Yes sir, are you glad that you got on.”

            “That depends on where it takes me.”

            “I see, well this presents a slight problem.  Since you don’t have a ticket I’m going to have to ask you to get out at the next stop.”

            “Ok, where is that.”

            “It is at the end of the line sir.”  With that said the old man departed through the back of the car.

            After awhile Jason felt the train begin to slow down.  He was suddenly able to pick out individual trees from the blur that was passing him outside the train.  Eventually, the train came to a stop.  The horn sounded deafeningly twice.  He remembered, what the old man said about this being the end of the line.  He looked outside the train and saw a dense pine forest.  Everything was dark except for a solitary lamppost standing outside.  At the edge of the illumination Jason could barely make out the beginning of a path that lead through the forest.

            Jason gathered his courage and steadied his heart.  He got up out of his seat and walked to the back of the car.  The outside air felt damp and cool against his skin.  He stepped off the steps to the car and onto the lonely platform.  He heard the engine’s whistle sound again.  Suddenly, a dense mist floated through which Jason could not penetrate with his eyes.  A breeze then came and blew the fog away.  When he could see again, the train was gone.  Jason was left standing alone on the platform under the lamppost.  He stared at the path leading into the woods.  He looked around and saw that the forest surrounded him completely.  There was no other road to take.

            “Well, there’s nothing for it,” he said to himself.  With that, he started up the path into the darkness.

            The forest floor was covered with fallen leaves and pine needles.  As Jason left the light of the lamppost behind him he noticed something glowing both sides of the path.  He looked closer and saw that about every foot along the path there was a glowing mushroom.  The fungi provided just enough illumination to outline the trail through the depths of the forest.  He continued along the path deeper into the darkness.

            It was neither hot nor cold in the woods.  The air was still without a hint of any breeze. Pine needles brushed across his face as he trod along the path.  As Jason walked along he began to notice a stench.  It stank of rotting fruit and mold.  At times it was so pungent that he could barely breathe.  He tried inhaling through his mouth but the result of this was that he was able to taste the decay that was so abundant in these woods.  The canopy formed by the trees was so thick that not a hint of starlight was able to pierce it.  Or perhaps, he thought, there were no stars to be seen in this world.  He listened carefully as he walked but the forest was silent.  All that could be heard was his footsteps crunching on fallen needles.

            As Jason strolled through the woods time seemed to disappear. He noticed that he was still wearing his watch and the backlight still worked.  However, it was stopped on 06:23.  That must have been the time of the crash.  With the backlight from his watch he was able to examine on of the ferns that brushed his face.  It was like that of no other tree he had seen on Earth.  The fern was black with edges as sharp as a scalpel.  He cut himself as he ran his fingers along it.  The underbrush was equally uninviting.  It mostly consisted of some strange species of bush that was pricklier than a cactus.  Instead of green the bushes were blood red.  Any thought of deviating from the mushroom path was pushed out of his mind after this examination.

              Although he walked what seemed to be a great distance his legs did not seem to tire.  Eventually, despite all the silence in the forest he began to believe he was not alone.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and goose bumps were raised on his arm.   Out of nowhere a fierce wind came blustering behind him.  Leaves and branches shook around him.  In the howling of the wind he heard voices; screams and moans.  He quickened his pace to a jog as he struggled to keep to the path.

            Suddenly, he thought he could make out the call of some fell beast in the wind.  It was like the howl of a wolf mixed with the roar of a lion.  The screams were drowned out by the noise it made.  It grew rapidly grew louder.  Whatever it was it was getting closer.  He did not know what would happen if he died in this reality, but he was not eager to find out.  Things could always get worse.  Jason began to sprint along the path.

            Jason found that although he ran as fast as he could, he was not out of breath.  Finally, he came to a clearing.  A river flowed through it.  Standing on the bank he saw that the river was approximately ten meters across.  The river did not look deep.  He was about to step into it when his gaze caught something beneath the surface of the water.  It was a human faced, dead and decayed.  The mouth was open agape as if it were locked in a final scream.  He stared out into the river and saw that it was filled with these haunting spirits.  He dared not enter the river and become trapped like them.

            The cry of the forest beast rang out again as the wind blew.  It was so loud now that he could barely hear his own thinking.  It was close now.  He had to cross the river.  He looked to his right and saw that a large tree had fallen across the river.  It was the only way.

            Jason climbed up onto the tree.  He began to slowly walk cross the river.  It was slippery with moss and spray from the rapids.  Branches blocked his path as he struggled to maintain his balance.  He had no idea what kind of hell awaited him were he to fall into the swirling torrent below.  Could it be worse then falling victim to the beast that stalked the forest behind him?  Was all of this just his imagination?  Questions without answers threatened to distract him as he inched along the fallen tree trunk.

            Just as he was over the middle of the river he heard the sound of wood snapping.  Immediately his left foot punched through the rotten wood.  He was just about to fall into the river when his right hand caught a thick branch jutting out from the trunk.  He struggled to find a hold for his left hand to pull himself back onto the trunk.  It was too slippery for him to regain his footing so he crawled the remaining distance to the far shore.

            When he reached the far shore he was no longer in the forest.  The howling of the beast in the wind came to a halt.  He stood up and gazed back at the other shore.  In the darkness of the trees he could make out what appeared to be one large eye glowing in the underbrush.  He met the creature’s stare.  Their eyes gaze became locked on one another in a battle of wills.  Suddenly, the hateful glowing eye disappeared.  He breathed a sigh of relief.

            The clearing on this side of the river stretched out before Jason filled with tall grass that stood up to his waist.  There were no longer any mushrooms to illuminate his path but a few stars shown brightly enough for him to see.  Oddly enough, he noticed that the moon was absent. However, he supposed, that made perfect sense if he was no longer on Earth.  He began to walk through the open field, heading in the opposite direction from where he came and the forest with its beast.  Eventually, he noticed a solitary light in the distance.  As he got closer it appeared to be shining brighter than a star from a window in a house.  The house stood on top of a small hill in the center of the clearing.  The house was a decrepit old wooden structure that appeared to be close to collapse.  The house was about a hundred meters off.   There was no other light in this world to guide him so he headed straight for it.

            When Jason got closer his eyes examined the building.  It was three stories tall and the light he saw was in the highest room.  Broken shingles surrounded gaping holes in the roof.  The house was painted a hollow white that was faded and chipping.  He came around to the backside of the house where there was a porch.  On the porch was an old wooden rocking chair on it where an old black woman with translucent white hair sat.

            Jason approached the woman.  Her gaze was distant, staring straight out to the end of the clearing.  She seemed not to notice his arrival one bit.  He decided to speak.  “Excuse me,” Jason said.  She either ignored him or could not hear him.  “Excuse me, ma’am,” he repeated.  He walked up to her to see if she was alive.  She was breathing, he could see her chest rise and fall.  He reached out his hand and touched hers.

            Suddenly, her face turned and her eyes looked right through his.  “Boy, you best get your hand off of me if you know what’s best for you.”

            He immediately retracted his hand.  “I’m sorry, “ said Jason.  “Where am I?”

            “What do you mean ‘where are you’?  You’re right here,” she retorted.

            “Yes, but if you’ll humor me, where is here?”

            “Humor you, you humor me, not knowing where you are and everything.  What kind of man walks around not knowing where he is?”

            “So you do know where we are.”

            “Oh I know where I am.  I’m sitting right here on this porch.  The question is where are you?”

            “I’m standing on the porch,” Jason responded.

            “Well there you go, you answered your own question.  Congratulations on your discovery.  Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

            Jason paused before asking his next question.  “Is this your house?”

            “My house, what do you mean my house?”

            “Do you own it?”

            “Would it mean anything to you if I did?”

            Jason thought about that for a moment.  What would ownership mean in this world anyways?  What did it even mean when he was alive?  “I suppose it wouldn’t after all,” he answered.

            “So again what do you mean my house?”

            “Never mind, do you live here.”

            “I’m not sure living would be the best word to describe it.  I sit here on this porch and I wait.”

            “Wait for what?”

            “Why I wait for lost souls like you.  They come by every once in awhile.”

            “What do you do when they find you?”

               “I tell them what they need to hear.”

            “What’s inside the house?”

            “Do you need me to tell you what’s inside?”

            “Well I suppose I could look for myself.”

            “Then honey, that’s what I think you should do.”  With that said the old woman returned her gaze to the field.

            Jason walked over to the wooden door.  He tried the handle and it was unlocked.  He pushed and the door creaked loudly as it slowly swung open.  He entered a kitchen.  Pots and pans sat useless in stacks in the sink.  Empty place settings lay forgotten on the table. Who left these dishes here?  Was it the old woman?  Did someone else live here?  There was not a morsel of food in sight. He searched through drawers.  He found paper and pens.  Then, he found something of use, a Zippo lighter.  He shook it and found that it was filled with liquid.  He flicked on the flame and watched as it lit the room up with a warm orange afterglow.  The walls were the same dull white as the exterior of the house.  There was no art, not a hint of decoration, or of life. He walked over to the sink.  He turned on the faucet and a dark red liquid came spewing out.  He turned off the faucet and looked at the now blood spattered dishes.

            The glow from his lighter showed him over to another door.   He pushed it open and stepped into the adjacent room.  A couch sat in the middle covered with plastic wrapping, as did a lounge chair.  There was an old radio sitting on the far wall.  He went over to it and turned it on.  The radio hummed to life and the sorry notes of “It’s Not Unusual” drifted through the airwaves.  He tried to adjust the tuning but the dial was locked in place.  He tried to turn it off but the radio stayed on.  He tried to turn down the volume but no matter which direction he turned the dial the volume increased.  He stopped before the music became unbearable.

            Jason walked out the door into the entryway.  This room contained the only artwork he had seen in the house; two marble gargoyles at the bottom of a staircase.  Across the room he saw another door.  He decided to check that room first.  He walked over to it an opened the door.  He entered a bedroom.  The duvet was red and the pillows were black.  The walls were the same white as the rest of the house.  A dresser sat with empty drawers.  A bookshelf stood along the wall.  On this bookshelf were three paperback books.  The first was a copy of Dante’s Inferno.  Next, was Milton’s Paradise Lost.  The final book was Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.  Next, to the bed was a nightstand.  There was a lamp on it but when he tried the switch it would not turn on.  He opened up the drawer in the nightstand.  Inside was a knife.  The blade appeared to be silver (for all Jason knew) and was six inches long.  The handle was solid ivory.  It came in a black leather sheathe.  Jason took it from the drawer and put it in the pocket of his suit pants.

            Jason returned to the entryway.  The staircase wound its way across the room to the upper floors.  Jason started up the stairs.  At the first landing there was a painting.  It was a portrait of a withered old man.  He was sitting in a wicker rocking chair that Jason recognized as the chair on which the old woman now sat outside.  The man’s eyes followed Jason as he moved past.  He continued up to the second landing.  On this landing there was another painting.  In this painting there was an old wooden house on a hill in a field.  A light showed brightly from a room on the top floor.  It was a painting of this house.  Jason could even make out the tiny shape of the old woman rocking back and forth on the porch.  He continued up to a third landing.  The stairs seemed to continue up without end.  He passed another landing, then another, each with its own painting.  He looked up and he could see the ceiling, but every time he came to one landing there was another.

            Finally, Jason stopped.  The stairs would go on forever he decided.  There had to be another way to reach the room where the light came from.  He realized he did not have any reason to search for the light other than that it was the brightest thing he had seen since dying.  He looked at the painting on this landing.  It was a painting of hallway in a home.  It was huge and stretched up from the floor.  It almost appeared to be an actual hallway.  Jason touched it.  He felt the painting and it was real.  The wall behind it was real.  Without much thought Jason took out the knife.  He reached up and methodically cut the painting out of its frame.  When he finished, the painting fell to the ground, and the actual hallway stretched out before him.
            Jason stepped through the frame and into the hallway.  At the other end of the hallway was a white wooden door.  Light shone out from underneath it.  He walked up to it and took a deep breath.  He opened the door and stepped into a brilliant white light.  He took another step and shielded his eyes.  In the middle of the floor was radiant pearl the size of a marble, it’s light was as beautiful as it was mesmerizing.  Jason stepped closer to it.  The light began to swallow him up.  He reached out his hand for the pearl.  Inching his fingers closer until his hand finally grasped it.  As he did so the whiteness of the light engulfed Jason entirely and he was once again deported out of time and space; tossed through an endless white void.

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