The Sociopath


Journal Entry 48

TS: 11:21:13

… and I will never change. I see the world through tint. The different colors of my shades present the many facets of my personality. What mood am I in today?

The doorman calls me “Mr. Banks” as I leave the building. He is a Category D and would never make the collection. Still… what would it be like to play along his ribcage with my knife? One can wonder… I roll the idea around my tongue.

I stroll amongst them, a shining example no one notices. But they will notice me one day. All shapes, sizes, ages, nationalities, I see them all and shudder trimmers of desire.

Not just any can make the cut. An audition worthy of Broadway is held each day as I allow my sensations to take over and visualize the moment with each… Not a Category B today, no I will indulge myself and will not settle for second class meat.

The decision has been made and my hands start to sweat with the sheer joy from the anticipation. There is no stopping me from having what I want… what I need. It will be quiet in the night once more… soon once again.

Mr. Banks

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Erindale – Flash Fiction v1


If you walk from the beaches of Dreadbin and follow the river inland for a mile you will reach a giant forest. There are many names for the trees found here, but most people in this area call them Blackwater Forest. The Queen’s road runs throughout this land so travelers may be surprised to find that the path disappears after you exit the forest. The land ends at a cliff and in the distance a mountain range and a large lake can be seen. It is in those mountains that you will find Erindale, home to Queen Victoria and her people.

Erindale rests against the base of Redrock Mountain, named for its unusual stone color. The Palace of the Queen is built into the mountain itself and the palace blends in with the surroundings with its intricate stonework. Forming an expanding semi circle from the royal grounds is the sprawling town made up of fishing huts, homes, forges, taverns, and businesses of every venture. Erindale is a thriving mecca of trade between the inlands and the distant kingdoms across the Dreadbin. The sounds of life, prosperity, and the faint tunes of a lute can often be heard as you approach the main gates.

The city is protected by a forty foot wall made of a combination of red stone and strong timber found in the surrounding hills. The gates themselves though are the true first impression any visitor receives when they come to Erindale. Two enormous slabs of bright red stone stand as pillars of protection against any harm that may come to these people. They are called the Heart Stones and represent the unity of the town behind the Queen. No force has ever conquered the walls of Erindale and some say as long as the red mountain stands none ever shall.

The Priests of Alta meet with the Priestesses of Sinta every year to perform the lighting of the sand. No one really knows what this ritual is or what is done during the ceremony, but everyone grows up knowing of its existence. Erindale is blessed by the light of the sand and the heart of the stone mountain is what keeps that fire safe. It is a comforting thought for those people that live in the town and it provides a connection between the simple minds of the less educated and those with the will to rule.

The rhythmic stomps of the town guard can be heard in the distance as you walk away from the palace and past the business district. The air becomes moist from Crystal Lake which seems to flow under half the town. The sounds of the working sailors and the intriguing advances of the girls on the dock fill the air with excitement and opportunity. Barrels of exotics can be seen being rolled off one ship as raw materials are being hauled onto another. People can also be seen coming off boats and walking with eyes full of excitement at seeing the palace in the distance. Here in Erindale there is something for everyone.

-Opinionated Man

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1/7/2014

Inspiration found


Where is inspiration found. We think as we seek it in the night and day. Chasing periods for a hidden thought, finding a hidden thought where there is none. Drawing motivation from the unmotivated as they use their talent in a halfass way.

Do we seek inspiration or does inspiration find us. I ponder this even as I find my answer. She walks beside me and in front of her is a shopping cart with the Target logo on it. We don’t talk for several minutes, but at some point our pace becomes the same. Our walk of life is the same. Two different souls, probably with different stories… I don’t know. But what impresses me the most is that I feel a soul walking by me when in a normal day I pass a hundred shadows attached to bodies I easily forget. It is so rare to find something that touches me anymore in this layered world of artificial pleasures. Our bodies forget what true feeling really feels like.

Going anywhere special?” I ask her daring to break the silence that may have secured our companionship for the moment. Had I broken it? But I have to know. She has such a look of determination and hope on her face that it almost baffles me. Ok, it does baffle me. Weren’t the homeless supposed to be distraught and depressed? Was there an answer here that she held that I might need to find a different type of happiness in life?

“Forward. Always forward. Never back,” she responds as if she has said those words a million times. It tickles my mind. And with each step a new letter begins to make sense. By the second word I know she has given me a gift. When I turn to thank her she is gone. I look behind me quickly, to the right, and left. Hell I even look up… Nope. Nowhere. She has vanished, but the thought she has given me has not. The inspiration of a moment that was meant to bless a page. And so it has.

-Opinionated Man

Jason C. Cushman

@smokendust

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Her


She smells of stolen moments and goodnight kisses. I catch her scent upon the back of one of her sentences as it flies randomly in my direction. I savor it. Each word, down to the letter, I taste it so I can taste her. I hover around her conversation. Never daring to speak to her directly, I flutter listlessly until she draws me in. And like a moth to the flame I find myself conversing with her shadow in a corner. I fix a misplaced hair on her head and imagine her amused grin. I sit there and speak to her all night. She never hears a word.

-OM

If I could Paint the Sun


Dear You,

“She says she wants to shine a light into the darkness,” but thinks a blog will not accomplish the deed. Does she not realize that with every eye that looks upon her words, a heart might possibly be softened? A mind might be altered slightly? The power to share, to care, and to allow ourselves to affect others… “affect” because we are indeed changing them. It is a scary thought for some and this is not some super power we speak of. It is the power to care and that is a very human quality. That is a character trait that should never be overlooked and instead should be embraced.

A borderless world is social media. This land that we stand in now, these people of all colors and no color at all, their personalities created on fonts called Calibri and Times New Roman. And yet we know them as we do a character from a story we love to reread in the night. These connections are real, as much as some may scoff at silly chains of necessary friendship. These men adorn themselves with lofty titles of “Opinionated Man.” Ignore the wind, it is only the wind from America.

If you want to paint then paint. But if you want to change the world of others then paint the sun. Alter not only their perception, but their reality as well. Do this with pen, brush, keyboard, or word but do it because you do have the power. You have the power to care.

-Opinionated Man

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Why you are Alone on Valentine’s Day!


You think all men are pigs. Well show me a pig that can pick out a Hallmark card, pay for it, sign it, and buy chocolate without eating it and I will agree with you! Otherwise… you are just picky and alone.

You measure men against characters from movies. Look we get it, those men in TV shows and popular movies are suave and slick as hell. They also had twenty men AND women write their lines for them. If I had a committee that filtered every word before it came out of my mouth I might just be perfect as well.

You keep trying to meet guys at the club. I will never understand why women choose to get involved with men that are obviously “players” and then get shocked and upset when they get cheated on. You know who won’t cheat on you? The chess club president that is who. I don’t think a chess club president has ever cheated on a girlfriend in the history of chess!

You hated every boyfriend in the past… and you tell every new boyfriend about it. Yes, unfortunately there are some assholes in the world and you just might have dated some of them! I didn’t come on this date to hear about Richard, Bobby, and Joey ok? If you are alone and you have the habit of ranting about Ex-BFs… maybe a time of self-reflection is required.

You look like a runway model every day. This one might be confusing because what guy wouldn’t want to date a model? Sounds like a lot of drama, I mean fun, but I do feel the need to clarify to women that if you step out of your door every day looking like a fashion model… most “average guys” won’t dare to speak to you. All we see is dollar signs walking around in high heels that none of us can afford to buy you.

You hate flowers, you hate chocolate, and you hate bunnies and you hate… If you hate “everything” or are the type that says you “hate everything” I just won’t try. Why waste my time and money? YOU HATE EVERYTHING!

You LOVE Valentine’s Day. Bahumbug… I hate this holiday. I think many men do too, which is why in the Guycode Book it states “that unless you are married or in a serious relationship you should break all non-important social agreements till after gift buying season is over.” See page 69.

-Opinionated Man

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