(From Bing:) Ex-Beatle John Lennon, 40, is shot four times at close range by Mark David Chapman as the singer walks to his apartment with his wife, Yoko Ono. Hundreds of fans will keep vigil for a week at the scene of the shooting, and on what would have been Lennon’s 45th birthday, Ono will dedicate a memorial in the park.
We’ve all experienced them at least once in our lives, those inexplicable, unnerving instances that make us wonder whether dark forces are at play, their subtle and sinister hands manipulating our reality from afar. They leave an impression, an indelible mark at the deepest levels of your subconscious, buried away by overwhelming reason, the steadfast grip of sanity, and a fear of the unknown and explained. We all have these stories. This is mine.
It happened so long ago, I can barely remember when, but I do recall it was a quiet night at my childhood home. The plan had been for a group of us to get together and resume play on a gaming campaign interrupted by an early school night, but a storm front had moved in late that day, washing out some of the local roads, making for treacherous driving conditions. A couple of my friends had…
View original post 652 more words
Apologies for not checking in sooner. I’ve been out of commission today, sick and sleeping off what I assume to be a touch of food poisoning. Was it the curry ramen? A fried oyster? The lychee sake that tasted like dish washing soap? I’ll avoid a Murder on the Orient Express gag here out of respect for spoilerphobes, but let me be clear – it WAS one of them.
Anyway, following my four hour mid-afternoon nap, I jumped online and discovered the Dark Matter Council was in the midst of another fabulous twitter campaign, perhaps my favorite yet –
I’m amazed by all of you who were inspired by many of the same mainstays of sci-fi that led me down this road. Asimov, Clarke, Ellison, Alien, The Thing, Planet of the Apes, Star Trek: The Original Series…to name but a few.
I’m also touched and…
View original post 159 more words
…a voice, a vibration, a lost soul, an unveiled destiny. Seen, unseen, known, unknown, stumbling through hazy visions of its unredeemed past, finding not what was but still is; a picture of Love. A stunning stroke on the black bare wall of its own prison and then void…Echoes making unbearable marks on the already insane mind, leaving behind a husk; nothing more.
Unprecedented order of events influences this mere husk and as a spectator to its own violation, it witnesses itself devoured in the silent sea of loneliness; and no effect of its own volition can ever stand against the mere shadow of that sea…and all this because of Love.
Tossing and jostling, this husk, on the crushing waves of the ocean of time and space, the torture never ends. Pain is no longer abhorrent but blissful, shadows do not insinuate fear but companionship.
A husk, that’s what I…
View original post 511 more words