Crucifiction: The Hour Before

His Moms’ new boobs (comedy)

Louie was an ordinary boy, as ordinary as a nine year old could be. Sure, he had his quirks and odd moments at time, but didn’t we all at his age?

He would always get up every day to the noisy workings of the neighbors next door. What sort of activities they found interesting at six in the morning puzzled us all. Still, thats how things were for little Louie. Today it was carpentry work on a new porch. Louie didn’t know of sound-proof window panels and the like, but if he were a few years older at that moment, you could have translated his thoughts as one who wished they’d all drop dead.

The Story of a Samurai (Part 2)

“Perhaps there was an easier way around the mountain I had not encountered”..was what came to mind as I scaled the canyon wall, almost at my journeys end, my muscles aching from the climb, the blood from my hands etched several dark red marks along the face of this great rock. Exhaustion is a common occurrence in my life, but this was no ordinary fatigue that I felt. I knew this place, too many good men had died here in search of mythical treasures, but their bodies were never found. Probably carried off by Tengu. I wondered if I would come across my first Tengu, goblins as the men of the west would call them. The air was getting colder, restricting my lungs from fully expanding. Have the spirits of men long gone come to claim me as their own?

A wisp of cloud just above my head prevented me from seeing beyond my nose, I groped for stable footing, now barely able to breath I could feel the life slipping silently towards the call of the dead. I vaguely felt my arms reach upwards.

Reaching for nothing.

The Story of a Samurai (Fictional Story)

If I could live a thousand lives,never would I choose to be otherwise of who I am,what I am, and where I am at this moment,fulfilling a mission which I have dutifully taken charge and must,at any cost to myself,complete.I move through the forest with barely a whisper to the wind and grow more wary as I approach the border of my destination..

It was never an easy life for me. Growing up amongst the shogunate class meant that I spent longer hours with my teachers.Learning to defend myself and otherwise.I remember days in my youth where I would miss entire summers away from my friends in the mountains,adjusting to the bitter cold of the ever-winters.I recall the two others with me,one went on to serve in the shogun rank of mounted samurai.A cruel man,I would pity his horse whom he would beat down in anger which in his later years I have heard, carried out on his wife after coming home drunk and soiled from visiting the local brothel.The other boy-for he was only a boy- died in my arms from frostbite upon mount fuji-san. I still spend sleepless nights thinking of that day.I had tried to retrieve all his fingers, which had fallen off in the cold.

I could not find his right thumb.