Monthly Archives: April 2015



If you don’t know me and you’re reading this or potentially some of my other scribbles, then you may have already guessed at some sort of tragedy that plagues my waking mind. A close friend of mine was stabbed three times less than 15 yards away from me. At first it just appeared that the phantom had simply hit him with a brick, as sadly I had seen that happen before and the spray of blood was very close in resemblance. What really happened was he was stabbed in the throat and then the chest twice, rupturing his lungs and causing him to have blood now rushing out of his neck but also into his lungs. I tried to get there in time to get my hands on the ghost that all too quickly had slipped back into his car and was gone in a matter of seconds. Friends wanted to get in cars and give chase but we were all drunk and I protested against the idea, I walked over to where two of my friends hovered over him, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, without thinking I took my shirt off and handed it to them lamely, as if it would make any fucking difference. He choked on red bubbles and looked straight at me with so much fear and an indescribable panic in his eyes, then the panic was gone, and so was my friend.

I’m not explaining this looking for some form of sympathy or attention, for I am well aware that neither would help at all. I’m just trying to offer a little insight into my poems and stories, for I know many find them complex riddles with no explanation ever clearly given. I’ve had people ask me with genuine concern if I’m suicidal based upon their misinterpretation of my poems, at which I can just explain, yet again, that my problems and worries come from an extreme fear of death, so why would I ever embrace it? I have seen the edge of the fall and have watched the impact, and it has forever changed something in me.

I used to enjoy going to movies and concerts, loved the thrill of potentially meeting someone new who was worth talking to. I would offer up conversations to complete strangers and was enriched in many ways for it. Crowds frighten me now. I get shaky, and when people look at me, which they are often prone to do given my large stature, I instantly feel suspect of the stare and my skin crawls the longer it continues. I no longer crave the company of strangers and in fact even polite conversation with the lady selling me cigarettes, has turned into an unwelcome inconvenience. When I drive I picture the wreck that kills me at least five times before I’m finally safe at my destination. I’ve become so petrified of death that I’ve developed a new fear on top of it, I’m scared that I’ll be so fearful of death that I’ll spend the rest of my life watching the second hand on a clock.

I smoked weed before the incident but rarely. It was more often than not a special occasion sort of thing where it was probably only once or twice a year that I would partake. After the incident I couldn’t sleep, I would just stare at my ceiling for hours but my mind would never shut off. I tried my old failsafe method of writing everything down, but it would just send my thoughts spinning and I would just end up a shaking and blubbering wreck of a man. When sleep would finally decide to take over, it was full of nightmares and I would wake up shaking and drenched in sweat. A close friend of mine was concerned and came over to see how I was. I had been drinking heavily for around a week and was just mentally done. He had some marijuana with him and asked if I would like some, honestly I’m glad I have good friends because I was wishing for a handful of heroin and not marijuana but I said why not, can’t hurt. Part of me was scared because in my youth I had experienced many aweful paranoid highs, where things in my mind that were already buzzing would go into a full blown rampage that would either leave me crying or punching something. My fear was unfounded, for as I took a couple of rips from his makeshift joint, I immediately felt a calming sensation take over me. We started a movie after that and I smiled for the first time since it had happened, and within thirty minutes I was fast asleep. No dreams or nightmares. Just sleep. Since then I smoke a little weed everyday, enough to take away the noise without removing my common sense. It helps me but if I were caught with it I would end up in the same place as the man who murdered my friend, what kind of sense does that fucking even make?

I’ll end this with just one more piece of me splayed across the page.

See I saw the light leave his eyes, hope choked out because of prideful lies and the wicked movements of demons in disguise.

So when you ask me if I’m fine, well immediately two things flash through my mind, the first being a flash of crimson and the image of the crime.

The next thing I see is sand, falling from an hourglass held by Death’s hand, swinging back and forth across every land, claiming every nation and every single man.

Am I fine? No one is.

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Posted by on April 30, 2015 in Paradise Drift


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I’m not sure that the words will ever be enough to express what it meant to me. Not only the smiles and the warmth. Not just the faith that was expressed through open hearts and free flowing emotions. No, it was something more that broke the chains of mortal entanglements, it was the peace. Never before, nor since, has my soul soared so high into the infinite cosmos and danced alongside something as beautiful as that moment.

The hurt exploded from within our weary hearts, and turned outward at the only reflection that exists of that which we truly hate the most, ourselves. So if I were you and you were to step inside of me, the memories would remain as intact and pure as they stay locked within. The world would never grip or grasp the melody that stole the white noise from our ears and pierced straight through our ruined cores, leaving us only stronger and lovlier because of it.

And I love the way you broke the most. It burns of familiarity and pulls me in like a home I never knew I had, leaving my feelings of loneliness shattered and bleeding out upon the floor like a fuckin’ murder scene. Goosebumps followed your fingers as they lightly traced a circle upon the bare flesh that covered your heart and my soul. If I could crack the shell then I would crawl back to you and trade my life for a chance at redemption. Sadly the years have thickened this layer of brick and bone into an almost indestructible thing.

Death will come and I’m only ever consciously aware of this fact. What worth is there left in this blank grey world of dust and ashes? What can I do when the ending was written in crimson ink before I was even aware that I could love something so much? And I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin sorry, but I can’t grip something that never stays still. And I know that as the sun sets at the end of every day, I know I’ll always love everything that you are, and everything that you’ve done for me. Death will at least have failed to steal me before I knew the joy of falling asleep, fully within a world not composed of a single being, but something much more beautiful than simply that. Goodbye love, and know that all of mine that remained left with you.

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Posted by on April 26, 2015 in Paradise Drift, Poems


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Exceptionally Badass Song!

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Posted by on April 25, 2015 in Burned.


The Land of Raven Hills

It is necessary to understand several things about the very land and the native people of what would one day become Raven Hills. Nestled in between two monolithic mountains, it is geographically the perfect location for a settlement due to the ease with which it could be defended. This of course drew the native tribes attention and many wars were fought over the area. The final battle that took place there was one that would be so violent that it would cut the very spirit of the earth and leave that ground scarred for as long as it exists.

After more than a decade of war and countless lives slain, be it on the field of battle or in sacrifice to pagan Gods, only two tribes remained. The tribe that had finally claimed the territory worshipped a Goddess they called Ahrin and taught her philosophy of love and kindness. As a matter of fact, the tribe of Ahrin was made up of most of the conquered tribes that would have been wiped out if not for the intervention of Ahrin’s followers. For as sure as night opposes day, there was a wicked tribe that had wandered down from the mountains during the wars and had caused more horror than could ever be told.

The mountain tribe worshipped a demon that they believed exists at the heart of the earth. Lunifex, as the demon was called, demanded sacrifices at the fall of dusk each and every day. Though the shamans of Lunifex believed that animal sacrifices were enough to calm the demon, they understood that he wanted more. Through ancient rituals and gallons of blood, it is said that these shamans of the Lunifex tribe accomplished something that spelled the end for the peaceful tribe of Ahrin.

Ahrin’s people were warned of course, for their Goddess was a loving one who only wanted for her people to be happy and at peace. The shamans of the tribe of Ahrin were given warning to pack the people up and flee, warnings that were ignored by the ruling class who had the most invested in the land. A command was passed from the council, made up of the wealthy and eldest of the tribe, that none should seek to flee. If any should leave, they would be stricken from the tribe and their names would be as a curse on all tongues. A large group of the tribe, lead by the most faithful and humble of Ahrin’s shamans, defied the command and as one walked out of the northern pass. No spears or axes were raised against them, in fact some could say that sadness lingered throughout the land that day as the tribe was split almost in two. The people who left were led by a man named Tyrien the Blind, known as such for the never-ending faith he held in Ahrin’s tachings. It was said that he would even blindly walk to the center of the earth, were Ahrin to command it. Tyrien and the ones who followed him could never know as they walked away that the tribe remaining only had two more days left to live.

The shamans of Lunifex had long since gone into hiding and were in fact thought annihilated by the tribe of Ahrin. In caves within the mountain they had hidden for over five years, slowly kidnapping any of the tribe of Ahrin they could and imprisoning them deep within the mountain. So dark was it where they were kept that most would go blind the morning that the were forced up and out into the midday sun. Lunifex had communicated with his shamans and had shown them a way to end the tribe of Ahrin without ever having to fight another battle. The prisoners were tied to poles in the ground, arranged in a massive circle within a high clearing. One hundred men, women and children were tied up to those poles with heads forced back, forced to stare at the sun that they had so long been denied. The tribe of Lunifex lay in the middle of the circle, consumed by root wine, all were naked, all of them a mass of writhing bodies caught up in the animalistic orgy that was commanded by them of their demon god. The shamans wore ceremonial robes, made from the pelts of the various beasts that wandered through their territory. The higher ranking shamans were marked by their strange leather garments that were made from their many human victims. They stood a hundred strong, one shaman holding a jagged stone blade in front of every innocent prisoner. They spoke words in a harsh tongue that sounded like more grunting and groaning than actual words. It started as a whisper, drowned out by the cries of rapture coming from the center of the clearing, and slowly turned into a deafening sound. The innocents that were tied up cried and begged for their lives, but their pleas and screams were drowned out by the sound of sexual ecstasy intermingled with that horrible language. Just as the crescendo reached a fever pitch, the sun began to disappear in the sky, almost as if Lunifex himself had reached out his hand to snuff the bright annoyance. As all fell dark it also went silent, the only sound heard in the darkness was that of a hundred blades swinging down as one.

The remaining tribe of Ahrin noticed the sun darken that day, but most thought it a simple error in their astronomical calculations and believed it to be a simple eclipse. That night they slep peaceful, not a single one of them expecting the horror that would befall them the following night.

The next night, as soon as the sun had set, the shamans of Lunifex crawled from the mountains. The hundred of them were completely naked and covered in dry blood, so that the night seemed fo swallow them, and unless you were to stand directly next to one of them, you would never see them in the darkness of the night. Each carried two large wooden buckets with handles that were made up of their victims hair. Fifty walked right around the settlement, fifty around the left, meeting back where they started and leaving behind them a giant circle composed of the lives of a hundred innocents blood. Then a single shaman, the tallest and oldest of them, walked, with arms spread, down the road that lead to the center of the community. While he walked he chanted the language his demonic lord had taught him and his skin slowly began to swell, so that by the time he reached the first watch tower, he looked purple and horribly bruised. The guard saw him, but no cries of warning could save the doomed people now. The shaman heard the guard’s scream and immediately burst into a run, screaming the demonic language louder and faster. He continued to swell, yet despite his now awkward looking form, he moved with the speed of a beast, right into the heart of the town. Right into the heart of the crimson circle. When he finally reached the center of the circle he screamed the final word of the borrowed ritual and then exploded into a burst of blood, meat and bone. The tribe of Ahrin had heard the cries and most had watched in horror as Lunifex’s shaman exploded. Some were close enough that they were covered in the wicked man’s blood, they would be the first to change.

It started in their eyes, a blankness that seemed to snuff out any intelligent thought, then crawled it’s way to their hearts. They attacked the person standing next to them, biting and clawing like animals, the ones who turned first were lucky. Spread by blood and spit, the madness claimed everyone in the tribe and for two months they raped and murdered and even ate each other, till only one remained. A man once called Dian, which meant “beloved son”, woke up after two months of sleep and beheld what had befallen his people. The streets were stained red from blood and parts of bodies and bones lay all around him, his eyes overflowing with tears he looked to the sky and begged Ahrin to allow him to awake, for surely this must all be a nightmare. When no answer was given, he moved his hand slowly to the ground and gripped the handle of a curious stone blade. He wondered over it only briefly, before burying it hilt deep into his broken heart.

This is how the tribe of Lunifex were able to lay claim to the mountains as well as the valley below. They were given only one commandment from their demonic Lord, they must kill one man, one woman and one child on the anniversary of that night. They must be stretched with heads pulled back, and they must be bled out in the very spot where the old shaman had burst. This must happen every year or else they would see the coming of an ancient enemy, that would destroy each and every one of them. So as the years passed the sacrifices continued, the blood of thousands drenching the very ground, where the Woman in Grey would eventually build a grey stone well.

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Posted by on April 25, 2015 in Small Tales


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Bloodborne Walkthrough Strategy Pt. 35, The End

Hey everyone and welcome to my final video for my walkthrough of Bloodborne. I hope that I was able to help you all through some of the more difficult areas. Now that you’ve finished the story, I suggest that you start playing around in the chalice dungeons as that is where your biggest challenge in Bloodborne will be found. Stay safe till next time everyone and as always, stay bloody.

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Posted by on April 24, 2015 in Video Games


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Bloodborne Walkthrough Strategy Pt. 34, Nightmare of Mensis Pt. 3

Hey everyone and welcome back to my walkthrough of Bloodborne. In this video I’m going to show you how to finish clearing the remaining are of the Nightmare of Mensis. This final stretch of ground up to Mergo’s Wet Nurse can be really tricky to clear so follow my strategy and your instinct to victory. In the next video I’m going to lay out everything you need to do in order to get each one of the three possible endings.

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Posted by on April 24, 2015 in Video Games


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Bloodborne Walkthrough Strategy Pt. 33, Nightmare of Mensis Pt. 2

Welcome back everyone to my walkthrough of Bloodborne. In this video I’m going to show you how to find some of the best items located in Nightmare of Mensis. By the time you’re done with this video you should have earned 3 trophies, not to shabby right? Next time we’ll finish up the Nightmare of Mensis area and get ready for the final showdown with our old friend Gehrman.

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Posted by on April 24, 2015 in Video Games


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