It was a cold and dark night when Oliver stood outside the main gate of the palatial mansion that belonged to the CFO of the luxury yacht manufacturer Caesar's Shipyards. He attempted a deep breath but just as his lungs began to fill with the crisp New York winter air they convulsed, dispelling the air violently with each deep and gravelly cough. His face was beet red as he composed himself, then, with his hand against the cold steel of the gate, he stretched his legs. His joints were stiff and his back ached but this was nothing new to Oliver as his body had slowly been getting worse and worse for the past 5 years. While he had expected it for some time now, he wouldn't have put his money on this being the night of his last kill.Read More
Writing about one's experiences allows one to relive experiences and allows others to relive the experience when they read it. Writing expresses thoughts that would have otherwise been memorized. When we have a persistent thought pattern and do not write it down the mind continues to go over those thoughts in an effort to not lose them but when you write them down you no longer need to go over those ideas. The writing acts like an external memory extending our capacities for thinking.Read More
This is the story about the first and the last time I ate magic mushrooms.
It was Halloween, some time ago when I tasted my first magic mushroom. A friend of mine had invited me to a party at his friend's house nestled in the forested hills somewhere near North Bend, Oregon. As the sun was coming down the five of us made our way to the back room where we each took hold of a piece of pizza on top of which lay two or so grayish, dried mushrooms. We ate our slices, some in silence and some with childish glee. My nerves were peaked but I was committed to the experience and I ate my slice with all its foul flavors. As it hit my tongue I was compelled not to continue but I forced it down, the pizza barely masking its rotten impression.Read More
Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful queen named Priscilla Bindle and she was quite the cunt. The queen lived in a huge castle that sat on a hill overlooking the metropolitan city that sprawled for miles throughout the valley below. On her first day as queen, when she was only fourteen years old, she celebrated her inauguration by forcing three of her handmaids' to fight to the death. When she turned sixteen she decreed that all those that fell late on their taxes would have to fight in her gladiator-style tournaments. On her seventeenth birthday, she declared war on the neighboring kingdom which led to a 6 month period of carnage and destruction. After many deaths, she won the war, which increased her power and ego. Tonight is the night before the queen turns 18 and there is a hush in the city as its citizens await tomorrows bad news. But what would the queen decree this year?Read More
I woke up the morning of the funeral in a melancholy mood. My friend Harry had died two days ago in a car accident and I was still in shock. Our last conversation ended in a shouting match and it had been two months since we had spoken. We had fought about his decision to go public with his newest work and I knew that it would not be met with the widespread praise that he had envisioned but he went ahead and launched it anyway. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that he was really dead.Read More