Random Crap


The character was named RavenEris; she morphed from a humanoid form to a raven. This was from probably around 1999 or so?


Born under a dark moon, Raven spends endless nights flying over battlefields, accompanying warriors on their path of death and destruction. A symbol of occult wisdom and power, the Raven is a messenger of the spirit world…and a trickster, as is her Greek counterpart, Eris, goddess of chaos, disorder, and confusion. She will stand to the death beside a true friend, but enemies beware… A guardian through the cycle of death and rebirth, the scintillating rainbow colors in the dark wings of Raven remind us that even in the midst of darkness, we have the power to touch the light…if we care to…which she seldom does…


Standing a mere 5’2″, her long ebony hair tinged with the rainbow glints so common to the raven and falling to just below her knees, with large blue eyes that can look into a person’s soul, Eris is an enigma wrapped in a mystery encased in a riddle surrounded by a conundrum – fitting…as she takes her name from the Greek goddess of discord, chaos, and confusion. A golden apple with a Greek letter “k” tattooed on her upper right arm, her diminutive size is deceiving as she has the strength and power of a case of TNT. Her large expressive eyes conceal the trickster within, the bitch waiting to escape, the ever-present yet ever-elusive goddess Discordia waiting for that one moment when she can throw the monkey wrench into any situation or expel conflict with laughter.

Morph from Raven to RavenEris:

Eris spreads her wings wide and stands tall, her talons swiftly and effortlessly becoming sleek black knee-high boots, her leather pants tight and culminating above the thighs to a thin waist, her pale torso bare from waist to navel, which is pierced with an ever-so-tiny silver ankh [there’s your Egyptian part…swiped from my favorite comic character, Gaiman’s Death;)], above…a skin-hugging black tank that shows her every delicious, delectable curve, the neckline cut just low enough to show a hint of cleavage, leaving the rest to the imagination since her long hair flows down over her shoulders, covering just enough to keep one wondering…exposing just enough to keep one wanting. On her back…a cape? The cape quivers, revealing itself instead to be an incredible and enormous pair of wings, glistening with faint rainbow glimmers, the sort created by sun glinting on an oil slick on a lonely country highway. Her luscious lips, painted a deep burgundy, so deep it’s nearly black…is that lipstick…or perhaps the remnants of last night’s dinner…?

Morph from RavenEris to Raven:

Planting her boot-clad feet firmly on the ground, Eris spreads her wings wide and brings them down and around to cover her diminutive form. For a moment she seems to disappear – there’s a flicker and a puff of air as the Raven takes flight, landing on a nearby ledge to gaze eerily into the room.


If then, as you tell me, they are willing to restore my
liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice
of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another
eternal adieu, for rather than part with those,
I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand
liberties, if I had them.
Marquis de Sade

The most merciful thing in the world,
I think, is the inability of the human mind
to correlate all its contents.
H.P. LovecraftThe Call of Cthulhu

Here´s to the losers
Substance abusers
To the rejects
All the imperfects
To the retarded
And the broken-hearted
To the starving masses
And the lower classes
´Cause I think we´re beautiful
The most beautiful in the world
Warrior SoulThe Losers

Tonight a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely
energy condensed to a slow vibration,
that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively,
there’s no such thing as death, life is only a dream,
and we’re in the imagination of ourselves.
Here’s Tom with the weather . . .

The Devil whispered behind the leaves,
“It’s pretty, but is it Art?”
Rudyard Kipling

All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good;
And, spite of pride, in erring reason’s spite,
One truth is clear,
Whatever is, is right.
Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man

All that we see or seem
is but a dream within a dream.
Edgar Allen Poe

NaNoWriMo 2016


It’s Day 2. I’m 11,215 words towards my goal of 50,000 words, and the story hasn’t stopped flowing. I’ve participated in NaNo for nearly 10 years now. This will be the first year I will actually achieve the 50,000-word goal…and at the rate I’m going, I’m going to go well over that 50,000.

I have my muse and main characters (Ethan), my other three main characters (Finn, Iris, and now Tori). I have my plot (I’m destroying the fucking world, baby). I have a general idea of where the story’s going (to Hell in a handbasket, then back again, probably in a Jeep).

I even created some title graphics (at the top of this post and below), although since the person in the picture isn’t exactly public domain, the only place I can really post it is here on my personal blog.


I’m feeling so motivated, and the story is just flowing. It’s actually sort of scaring me. There’s only one other time this has really happened, and that was my original draft of Paradox Manor waaaay back in the last century, haha! Let’s hope my momentum continues. I’m about 10 chapters in, and still so so so much more to write to get to the end, then so much more to go back and add. I am skipping whole chapters to get the story moving towards the climax and ending and just putting placeholders for some of them so I can go back and fill them in later.

Holy shit, I haven’t written like this in years. I hope it doesn’t suck!

Story: Can I See You in the Kitchen…

images from Wikipedia commons“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Sheila was chilled to the bone at those words. They always had that effect on her. She knew exactly why too. Those were the final words her Aunt Karen had said to her Uncle Henry on that fateful Thanksgiving afternoon so many years earlier.

*                          *                         *
“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Sheila watched Uncle Henry get up from the sofa where he was watching the game with the rest of the family and headed towards the kitchen.
“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Her aunt’s words were spoken softly , but there was a slightly tense undertone to her voice that made Sheila continue watching as her uncle followed Aunt Karen through the kitchen door.
All eyes reverted to the television, the Jets ahead by 10 in the 2nd quarter. A few loud noises from the kitchen caused a few heads to turn. Man, that must be some turkey! Then silence.
Sheila heard dishes clanging as Aunt Karen started setting the table. A short time later, her aunt called out, “Dinner’s ready!” and everyone slowly filed through the kitchen to the dining room.
Wikipedia commons file“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Sheila never forgot those words—or the sight of Uncle Henry’s backside and legs dangling from Aunt Karen’s Martha Washington gourmet oven—or the pool of blood spreading
Nor would Sheila ever forget Aunt Karen’s huge grin as she called cheerily from the dining room, “Guess who forgot the sweet potatoes?!”
Author’s Note: Obviously, this story gives you a pretty good glimpse into one of the darker recesses of my imagination;)

Story: Superhero

batmanWhen Steven was a boy, he knew exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up. “I want to be a superhero!” he’d exclaim when anyone asked him that question.

Yes, a superhero – like Superman or Spiderman or Aquaman, maybe Batman. Batman was cool because he had that awesome Batmobile…and a sidekick. Steven figured it might be neat to have a sidekick since he thought being a superhero might be lonesome, and it sure would be nice to have a sidekick to share all the fun with.

Steven never gave up on his dream of becoming a superhero. He learned to swim when he was five and refused to go anywhere near the water without his Aquaman underoos. When he was seven, he stole one of his mom’s huge red towels off the clothesline and, using permanent markers from Dad’s art kit, he put a big red and yellow “S” on the $30 blue shirt his grandmother had bought him for the first day of school, and flew off the back porch like Superman. He was grounded for a week for that one…because he landed in Mom’s flowerbed… Didn’t anyone understand that when you’re a superhero, sometimes innocent victims got hurt? And sometimes, bad guys smelled like roses?

Looking back on it now, Steve smiled a snide grin. Superhero. What he wouldn’t give to be laying in that flowerbed now. He looked around him and winced as he slapped at the bugs that had landed on his forearm. His buddy Mack hunkered down beside him, and he thought of the time he and his little sister Sarah had scooted around the backyard, he pushing the wheelbarrow that was the “Batmobile” and she a softer version of Robin the boy wonder.



‘God, what stupid dreams kids have,’ he thought.

As the bullets whizzed by his head and mortar shells exploded all around him, his last thoughts were of Sarah’s smiling face – “Holy salami, Batman!” – and the smell of Mom’s roses, and he died thinking what a stupid dream that was…but he died a superhero, whether he realized it or not.