They were all locked together, intertwined in ways none of them thought imaginable. Feeling coerced into this position, some wondered to themselves whether or not this was all part of some strategy, some master plan of whose making they were not sure.

They knew, in their confined position, that if enough of their brothers and sisters fell on top of them, it would surely be curtains for all. The same situation has been repeating now for decades. Not to this group specifically, but to tens of millions of their fellow blocks of various shapes.

Suddenly, it appeared in the sky. Thin and rectangular in appearance, it was long enough to cover four rows of its fellow blocks in one shot. They all knew what this meant and sure enough, as if guided for a purpose, it fell right beside them. Then, it was blissful oblivion for all with only this sound to signify their demise:

Invented in Russia in 1984, Tetris is one of the most (if not the most) widely known video games in the world today. A version of it is available for every gaming console and has been since gaming consoles started.

Personally, I was introduced to Tetris via the gameboy as, apparently, many others have as well. Now, I play it on my cellphone. It’s really a great way to wait for the bus.

Over the years, developers have tried, in vain, to improve upon the game. Usually, this involves painting some sort of backdrop or attaching characters at the side of the play space that feel pain when the blocks disappear (thanks for the info, Mike). All of this is superfluous, though harmless.

Other times, they try and change the game play itself. If this involves giving other options, like most points or quickest time, it’s fine as long as the original version remains an option. There has even been quite a debate over the introduction of infinite spin into the game which is something I’ve never played with but am not completely opposed to.

If, however, it’s an alternate version completely, say one knockoff I played where there were blocks there to begin with and there was nothing you could do to get rid of them, then it’s time to give up on the knockoff and go get one of the many free (or paid) versions of the real game available.

Tetris is rare in the video game world because no matter what you do, adding to the game doesn’t make it better. No matter how many times you play it, there is always room for improvement in your Tetris skills. Skills, which according to one researcher, actually improve brain power.

If you like this game and want to know more, including the developer’s legal struggles, the possibility of endless play and the reasons why it became so widely available in the first place, there are plenty of links on the game’s Wikipedia page.

If, on the other hand, you just want to play what is still one of the best video games out there, please do so. Chances are it won’t be the first time you do.

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A few years ago, there was an explosion of young people doing crafty things.  Stitch & bitch circles were popping up all over North America and Europe and everyone seemed to be sporting crafty wares from head to toe: funky cat-ear hats and alligator mittens became all the craze.  Reviving a traditional way of making garments is a great way to keep history alive…it’s not only for your great aunt Hilda anymore!

There are a great many things of good that come out of a knitting frenzy.  You can make anything from your own dish cloths, baby shower gifts, pillow cases… you name it.  You do the labor yourself, which cuts down on slave-type condition clothes manufacturing and you have the added ingredient of love for every stitch that passes through your fingers.

Knitting can also help pass the time during long lectures, and give you something warm and snuggly while you watch a good old hockey game at the pub.  Learning how to knit when you’re a bit older also helps build new synapses in your brain, which keeps you young.

The “knitting” movement has been a steady part of an ongoing shift in how people want to live their lives.  You can call it a bit of a getting-back-to-basics, locavore, community type of thing.

Like any high school economics class will teach you, the law of supply and demand is a large part of how our economic system is run.  With the rising fad in knitting, crochet and other do-it-yourself activities, there was also an increase in demand for yarns, knitting needles, crochet hooks knitting patterns, and so on.  So what of it?

Most of the yarns on the department store shelf are acrylic: artificial materials, possibly genetically modified, possibly dyed with harmful chemicals, possibly shipped to us from China, etc.  The best way to go, as always, is locally made, organic yarns.

Not only will you be supporting farmers in your region, you will also be walking the talk.  Many knitters today are more conscientious and aware of their impact on the earth, so if you can afford it for more of your projects, then that’s the best way to go.  This blogger has a lot of great things to say on the subject.

In the Montreal region, you can find organic yarn at Mouline and Ariadne. They’ll be your portal for great sources and information of the craft and get you in touch with the right side of your brain, and knit and purl your way to inner sanctity.

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Someone just hacked into my email and spammed all my contacts. For this I should not have to apologize, but I must.

I think those conniving, sniveling, Asperger-ridden nerds who invented computer viruses, spamming and computer worms should all be gathered into a tiny room and mass tortured. Then kill them all in the most hellish ways imaginable.

I know. Revenge of the nerds. But why do they need to be so trying? Why must they attack our systems? They are no better than garden variety terrorists.

Is it so wrong to terrorize the terrorists? Well, yes, yes it is. However, retaliation and vengeance do have some merits to them too. I can’t think of any of them right now, but I’m sure there are some.

It fact, telemarketers and fax broadcasters are in the same devilish league. They should ALL be brought down and punished severely.

Here comes a tangent, but if we all get rid of our computers, our telephones, our radios, televisions, lightbulbs, etc. they can’t spam us! In fact, technology is an evil thing that should have never come about in the first place.

The truth is, we as a species are merely and by far the most self-indulgent, insolent, selfish and nasty animals ever to evolve. The truth is that we are disgusting! We have abilities no creature should have!

We’re too intelligent for our own good. And we have hands! How many other creatures have hands!? With too much brain and the ability to make and use tools and to be handy in general, it makes us an abomination to be reckoned with.

One of our first mistakes was the invention of the wheel. Another mistake was learning to use fire, to make and quash it and the sprawl into non-temperate climates that this made possible. Without these inventions, we would have never got the technology ball rolling in the first place.

In fact, while we’re at it, all of this newfangled dogshit we call “technology” is evil, is disgusting and should be thrown out the window. We haven’t really progressed much further than the cave men, have we?

Well, there are, of course still cave-people in assorted parts of the world. The only real difference is that nowadays we usually build these caves and run pipes and wires through them and give them fancy designs. Of course, we refer to these overdensified small tracts of overbuilt land with too many people living on them them as “cities” now.

The fact is that the human race is a bane to our existence and therefore must be wiped out. But wait a second there! Are we not also a part of the human race? There isn’t an “us” or a “them” in this case.

We are all one species under a once blue, polluted sky. We’ve encrusted the earth with a new upper atmospheric layer. It is a layer of artificial satellites, debris from former artificial satellites and a ludicrous amount of assorted waves and vibrations.

There are macro-waves and micro-waves, enough to cook ourselves to death. As a species, we deserve it. No other creature on earth is anywhere near as cruel, as cunning, as conniving, or as vindictive as humanity.

Destroy the world and start again.

Start again.

Start again.

On second thought, maybe not.

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The J train stopped on an outdoor platform stretched out over Marcy Street and we exited and descended the metal staircase for the second time in as many days. The novelty of such an exit must disappear quickly for the locals, but for someone used to the organized monotony of the Montreal metro system, even this little bit of NYC Subway difference was interesting.

Marcy wasn’t bustling like it had been the day before when we arrived late afternoon, hoping to explore Williamsburg. Now it was nighttime and the frenzied pace of people coming back from a day of work in Manhattan had given way to indoor celebrations and a different kind of frenzy.

When we arrived at Death by Audio, there was already a healthy crowd inside and the show was in full swing. The sound quality and mixing in this basement loft venue were quite good, which makes sense when you consider that the space was started three years ago by the guitar pedal company of the same name.

According to Justin Sherry, the venue’s current booker and the evening’s soundman, Death By Audio features bands playing a variety of styles: everything from jazz to metal. This Tuesday night in particular, there was quite a bit of metal being offered.

The four-band lineup featured psychedelic metal from Elks, mystical metal from Wizardry and to change things up a bit, Afuche, who describe themselves on MySpace as minimalist progressive. All three are Brooklyn-based bands.

We had arrived late and spent our time between the show room and meeting friends in the second room through the curtains which served as a chill space. The cinder block and brick walls of both rooms featured murals by local artists, which both stood out and blended nicely with the atmosphere.

As such, we only caught one full set and it was from Pembroke Pines-based Hyimn, an incredibly tight, fast, band playing original songs fast and heavy. They are a three-piece comprised of Danny and Jaz Sainz both on guitar and vocals and Maria Chu drumming and singing. Female drummers aren’t common in rock and even rarer in metal, so Chu’s solid rhythm was a real treat.

We decided to stop off for a drink on our way back and happened upon Woods. It turns out Tuesday was karaoke night and the place was packed. Not only that, almost everyone was a good singer. To describe this place to our Montreal readership, try and imagine the Cock n’ Bull atmosphere and prices in a space that looks like Billy Kun.

The place had a real community vibe and we out-of-towners were welcome by the locals. We met quite a few people and even got up to sing. Among the clientele were some fellow bloggers and artistic types.

In fact, we met quite a few people who were involved in new media in the Williamsburg area. We had visited Bruar Falls , another showbar where we didn’t have the time to catch a show, the day before and revisited it again the following day and met people involved in web video and blogging as well.

Most people think Manhattan when they think New York and Manhattan does have its charm. Williamsburg, however, is where I felt more at home. While there may be no sleep ‘till Brooklyn, in this part of town, there really wasn’t any reason to sleep.

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Ah, springtime!  It’s the time of year where we can rip off our plastic window coverings with great satisfaction, open the windows, air out the house and start planning our little gardens.  All that extra sunlight and air might bring some attention to four months of winter mess, which usually brings on a splurge of cleaning or ”Spring” cleaning.

But what’s the point?

If this is part of an annual ritual in which you partake, you might be making the inside of your home spring fresh, but not the rest of everyone else’’s home, i.e. the Earth.

Spring cleaning is a ritual stemming from the days before electricity, where everything was covered in soot and grime form the fireplace and outdoors. We may have advanced in our electrical know-do, but at the sake of the environment, gazing at screens more and moving around a whole lot less.  Still, we sometimes do the big spring clean, if only to welcome the changing seasons.

What do you use to clean your home?  Most of us might not take the time to research and find the most ecologially responsible products.  Many stores now carry ecological home cleaning supplies. Many might claim to be biodegradable, ecological, and other “green” claims, but here is the only way to check if it is good down to the core, in Canada:

These three little birds will set you flying straight into greener pastures.  Products that carry this logo include Bionature, Natureclean and Biovert and can be found at the two environmental co-ops in Montreal, as well as other outlets.

Of course, having new products created, even certified eco-logo ones, has a huge impact on the earth and I bet that you already have everything you would need for a top to bottom clean without having to fork out more cash.  These include wonderfully accessible things like baking soda, vinegar, lemons and if you feel like splurging, some essential oils.

So, what I’m saying is that you can use the same stuff you use for baking as a cleaning force to be reckoned with that won’t stretch your budget.  Baking soda scours.  Cleaning your stove, microwave and even bathtub with a mix of this and some hot water and lemon squirts will get the job done.

Mix up some vinegar and hot water in a spray bottle and clean hard to reach places, like that spot behind the toilet that you’ve been neglecting.  Vinegar deodorizes and gets rid of pet smells.  This is where the essential oils can come in handy.  Take some of your favorite scents, mix it with a base oil, like almond or sesame oil and spray it to give your rooms a fresh, non-toxic odor.

Some of the origins of today’s’ highly processed cleaning products stem from these easy ingredients, same as how alot of our pain medication comes from plants and trees.

So, unless you go the easy route – that is, using what you already have at home rather than buying that deceivingly “quick fix” from wally-mart, like the abominable swiffer, what’s the point of cleaning at all if the rest of the world has to suck up all of the chemicals that are in that cleaner?  Not to mention the fossil fuels and plastic (also from fossil fuels) needed to create and transport the containers, printed labels and advertising that went into it and the waste created when it’s all over.

Not only will you be going “green”, you will be returning to the old, vintage style of taking care of your home…how sweet it is!

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Looking back, I know why psychopaths like Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold decided to open fire on their school, Columbine High School. I know what it’s like to be bullied. I went through THAT hell before.

In fact, the aforementioned Columbine incident would’ve happened ten years earlier in Pointe-Claire if I’d had access to firearms. Thank the lord I didn’t.

Sure, those that bullied me are mostly now millionaires with wives and families and nice houses and sports cars and SUVs while I’m barely scraping by, living pathetically in my parent’s basement, alone and childless, struggling to get out of the mess that I’m stuck in. On second thought, maybe I should have killed those bullies when I had the chance. Oh wait, I never actually did.

It’s no fun being bullied, harassed and harangued constantly when one is in school. Teenage years were awkward enough without all that prattle.

But bullied I was, to the point where some of those bullies used to drive around my house in a minivan and if they saw me would hurl insults and rocks at me. In my mind, I overturned their van, killing them all. Now they are trying to be Facebook friends with me.

I admit, I can come across as somewhat creepy. Ugly, lonely idiots such as myself seem prone to that misjudgment, sometimes to the chagrin and delight of the society that puts us into that position should we act accordingly. No, society brushes us aside if we don’t look or act a certain way.

False accusations were, of course, spewed at me with much venomous hatred and only sometimes returned. These accusations were very often accompanied by the fists and feet of the bullies spewing them.

I was outnumbered and outclassed. I couldn’t win and so my resolve weakened. I let them get the better of me. The adults around me promised me a revenge so sweet…THE ADULTS WERE ALL DIRTY, ROTTEN LIARS!!!! After several years of searching in poverty and frustration, I’ve finally landed that entry level position in my field, earning almost (but not quite) HALF of what I deserve.

Is it any wonder that at the age of 32 I developed gout? It seems a wonder I’m not committed to some insane asylum somewhere, put on display and continually prodded by cruel tourists with “Poking sticks” purchased cheaply at the entrance.

Money was always tight, jobs were always scarce and fear was always present. But years of paying dues haven’t really gotten me anything better. Sure, I have a lot more friends now than I did then. College did that much for me.

I met some of the most important and valuable friends then (not all of them through school) and by the time I got to college, I had passed through the most awkward phases anyway. So had everyone else.

I know I must seem a bitter, old, miserable boor. I’m afraid I’m becoming just that.

One of those bullies who used to beat the crap out of me on my parents’ lawn is now a rich hot-shot California lawyer. He’d likely try to sue me for no good reason if he ever saw me again.

Another bully from that era, I heard through the grapevine, threatened to break my jaw if he ever saw me again and this was less than a year ago. If I saw either of them again, I probably wouldn’t even recognize them.

I forgave them years ago, but I will NEVER forget what they did to me. All I really learned from this is that life is never fair in my favour and restitution doesn’t exist. Karma is just shit from the Sacred Bull. Bully pulpit

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After admitting that his twelve-storey office tower planned for the Quartier de Spectacles had to be scaled back to just five floors as well as his company’s fundraising difficulties, Christian Yaccarini, the head of the Angus Development Corporation, lashed out at the city’s public consultation process and the artists trying to save Café Cleopatre from demolition. Now word comes that his company’s deal with the City of Montreal is being investigated by Montreal’s vérificateur général.

Yaccarini’s frustration, as voiced to the Montreal Board of Trade, falls perfectly in line with what we already know about the developer’s attitude toward consultation and independent artists. Back in June 2009 he sent an email to his supporters, urging them to come to a press conference and arguing that “so-called artists” were causing a “veritable psychodrama” at the OCPM meetings in order to protect what is nothing more than “a strip club with video poker machines.”

If Yaccarini had bothered to actually listen to what was said at the meetings, he would have learned that there is much more to the Cleo, namely a vibrant arts scene whose artists don’t want to leave and in some cases have no other place to go (thanks to zoning regulations). He’d also have realized that these artists want development in the area but want to be included in it.

The Tremblay administration also didn’t listen, either to the artists or the decision by its own consultation body. Now there are two reasons for both parties to listen: he court case brought by Café Cleo fighting its expropriation and the investigation.

It makes sense that there should be an investigation. After all, if your firm wants the contract to replace the toilet paper in City Hall, for example, you can bet there’s going to be a bidding war. How could three incredibly pricey building projects on a historic street with huge symbolic significance be simply handed to a handpicked developer (and one with a criminal past at that) without anyone else being given a chance to bid?

Media coverage and a slew of shows and videos (most recently the comedic Demolition in a Box) have helped, too. Unfortunately as Velma Candyass, one of the artists behind these projects told the Montreal Mirror, a lot of the damage to the area has already been done.

Two performance venues and a dance club have moved according to Angus’ wishes, leaving the once booming, then desolate, then booming again area almost desolate once more. In what they claim is an attempt to rebuild an area that sorely needs a makeover, Yaccarini and Tremblay have created the very devastation they claim to want to eliminate.

This begs the question of why Christian Yaccarini feels he is in any position to complain.

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LA CAGE AUX FOLLES (1978)
Starring Ugo Tognazzi and Michel Serrault
Directed by Edouard Molinaro
Released by United Artists
French with English Subtitles
110 minutes

La Cage aux Folles is a great comedy by any standards, but even more so because of its important messages of acceptance and never trying to hide who you’re meant to be.

Laurent (Remy Laurent) is a young man whose parents, father Renalto (Ugo Tognazzi) and “mother” Albin (Michel Serrault), are owners of La Cage aux Folles, the hottest transvestite club in the south of France. While Laurent is only twenty, he’s wise enough to know that having a mother and a father does not a happy home always make and he’s grateful his parents gave him a stable loving childhood.

But when he gets engaged to Andrea Charrier (Luisa Maneri), the daughter of the man who runs the political party Union for Moral Order, Laurent finds himself in trouble. After he returns home to tell his parents the news, he discovers his prospective in-laws want to come for a visit. So Laurent begs his father that at least one night their extroverted family can try playing it straight. Disaster, of course, ensues.

Having seen the 1996 Hollywood remake of this film, The Birdcage, it’s hard not to compare the two. Mostly following the same script, both are great comedies, but the original is stronger for several key reasons.

Firstly and most simply, the first film was made in the 70s. It’s more believable that a family would try to hide their sexuality back then rather than in the late 90s (then again, America has always been way behind Europe in issues related to sexuality).

Also, Robin Williams and Nathan Lane are excellent performers, but both actors play the characters simply for laughs. Just watch the scenes where the characters are practicing their newest routine for proof. Tognazzi and Serrault meanwhile have just as many funny scenes together, but this script spends time focusing on how Renalto and Albin are just as married as any straight couple could ever be.

This grounds the men in a reality that doesn’t make them simply a flamboyant stereotype. Speaking of reality, it’s refreshing to see that the actors who play Laurent and Andrea actually look like they’re eighteen and twenty instead of in Hollywood where thirty year olds are cast as teenagers. Seriously Hollywood what’s up with that?

If handled by a different actor, the character of Albin could have definitely simply come across as a screeching queen. Serrault gives Albin just the right mixture of prima donna and loving mother figure to make him lovable. Lane comes close to achieving the same type of performance, but Serrault is just too fabulous to beat. The scene where Albin dresses up in drag and convinces an uptight conservative politician that he’s a woman is one of the best sequences ever in a comedy.

Ultimately, the secret comes out and they are cruelly rejected by the Charrier family. But Renalto and Albin, (the “freaks”) ultimately prove themselves the better people when they help the Charrier family out of the club after the press gets wind of where Mr.Charrier is spending his evening. It’s completely rewarding and hilarious to see a man who is so vehemently opposed to homosexuality sneak out of the club in drag.

Cage aux Folles never shoves gay rights down your throat but rather playfully comments on how ridiculous it is that people hate each other because of who we love.

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Damian Abraham  (a.k.a. Pink Eye) comes out on stage shirtless with a piece of embedded glass in his forehead and debases himself with jokes between sets. He  is one spectacular showman, being the vocals and entertainer behind the notoriously wild Fucked Up, which have been responsible for  destroying not one but two MTV live sets! Fucked Up are a band that find themselves breaking the oxymoron of nonconformity conformity that has been punk music’s undoing, that is why I find them so refreshing!

A few nights ago at their Montreal show at Sala Rosa, the band breathed new life, taking punk music in a new and awesome direction, making the more than forty year old genre give off  less of that old man smell and more of that new vinyl or plastic wrap smell.

They exhibited their ability to sum up the raw power of hardcore with beautiful pop melodies, making this six member band quite contradictory in musical style. Winner of the 2009 Polaris award, the  band is reengaging audiences with ingenious exploration, bending and declassifying themselves, which is  reflected in their eclectic crowd of punks, hipsters and just plain regular music lovers.

Fucked Up is one of those bands moving the hardcore style between other melodious seconds,  giving its audience a unique ear opening experience that makes you head bang to the screams and the hymns.

On an interesting note about the band: Pink Eye, who says he was given the name after watching a very disturbing porno video, gained notoriety by becoming a regular on Fox news, even going on the Red Eye show twice after chemistry of common life was lauded by Greg Gutfeld. After Gutfield called Canadian troops cowardly however, Damien appeared on the show to give him a ’support the troops t-shirt’.

Surprise of the evening was Kurt Vile, who sings melodic folksy-electro and mystical songs that can put the most sober of spectators into a psychedelic trance. The two piece was very impressive and a great opener for Fucked Up. The duo are Kurt on guitar while his friend plays the drums and a whole array of petals lying on the floor.

If you have a chance check out Kurt Vile on Myspace and  give a listen to Chemistry of Common Life (Matador Records)

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Hello everyone. This seems to be happening a bit more than I would like, but tomorrow I have a huge dentist appointment where my wisdom teeth could very well come out. Even if they were not to come out, watching Team Canada and the rest of the hockey games, has become my main priority. With this being said, I cannot post an actual review today. However, instead, I shall be posting an excerpt from something I have been working on… hope you can enjoy this and wish me good luck in my appointment. I know it’s about my wisdom teeth and apparently there is a good chance, four get taken out at once. Brutal.

Inevitable

We tried looking for Blair to the best of our abilities, but we had no luck. He had gotten away and there was no telling where he had been. With only Blair left on the list of people who shot up my sister’s wedding, I could feel a sharp pain tearing me up inside. But it wasn’t just emotionally; it seemed to me like I was feeling under the weather and suffering from something I had never experienced before. Sure, I was anxious, and patiently waiting for Necro to get a lead on where Blair was hiding so we could finally determine the whereabouts of Xstasy and take the man who had organized the mass-murder out for good.

You would think I was in a so-close-yet-so-far state of mind, but it wasn’t like that. In my mind, I was feeling like I had managed to come so far in life and my career and do things that my father would be proud of. I could remember his windy whisper when I was forgiven by my family, telling me it was okay. I could picture him looking down at me, smiling, knowing that despite all the pain I had caused, I had still done everything I promised I would do.

I would build my own legacy and become a bigger star than anyone before me. I would go to great lengths to win. And through all the madness that haunted me outside of the ring, I always managed to find a way to be the better man, despite all the out-of-the-norm happenings that plagued my daily life with a vengeance. And now, my legacy could be finalized, as the final chapter could be written: Mike Park – GWF World Champion. To finally add that feat to my list of accolades would simply solidify my dreams and promises to the point where it could all be finished. Where everything would climax and finalize itself before me.

The final day was near…

_________________________________________________________

“Mister Park, I have some rather unfortunate news for you. I know you have that big match against Volcano coming up, but I must apologize in advance…” the doctor’s opening words of a well-practiced speech were anything but encouraging. A part of me knew what was coming next, and believe it or not, I felt maybe it was for the better — in some sick and twisted way.

“Just tell me,” I simply said, locking eyes with the doctor who seemed just a tad bit worried. Perhaps he was intimidated by my size, despite being roughly the same height as me, I could tell he knew of my past outbursts during the course of my career. He gulped down his saliva and lifted some stapled papers to his face — perhaps to hide my gaze — and spoke.

“You have cancer. I’m sorry,” like a hot knife through butter, I realized that I was correct. That eventually even I was to succumb to the inevitability that was death.

“So, how long?” I asked him, lowering my head, thinking about how I had finally got what was coming to me.

“It’s curable. It’s still a early enough to beat, but it’ll need work. With that being said, with time and effort, you can be cured. There’s still no magic cure, but believe me…”

“No,” I stated, speaking as clearly and direct as I could. The doctor slowly lowered the paper, and then gazed into my eyes, feeling not so intimidated by me at all.

“No?” he questioned, looking back at the chart for a brief second, “sir, you have cancer. If you don’t get treated then you’re going to die. Is this really what you want?”

I was quiet and did not speak. I just turned my head and stared out of the office through the window where the sun was beginning to shine so heavenly. It was the first day of spring, and a day where hope would emerge from out of the darkness of winter and bring forth new life with it. For me, I had just received my wish. My dying wish, as you might call it.

“Sir, this is critical. If you refuse the treatment then there will be literally no chance that you will make it. One year — and that’s if you’re lucky. It’ll spread faster than you know it, and when it does…” his voice trailed off as I stared out the window and the melting snow where grass could be seen. It was like all my problems where melting. As if freedom, much like death, was also inevitable.

My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I took it out and checked the ID — it was Necro, so I flipped it open and placed it to my ear, forgetting about the news I had just been told; I had bigger issues to take care of.

“Hit me,” I said, picturing Blair’s face in my mind and his rather sinful grin and haunting laughter.

“Ryan, I just got a tip that Blair is staying at a motel just out of town. He’s using a fake name. But it’s what lead us to his whereabouts.”

“The name?”

“… Robert Park. He must know your father’s grave was right near the church. He’s had time to prepare. My best advice is for you and May to meet me at the motel tonight at midnight. We’ll go in and end this thing. Then, we can finally get our hands on the man behind all of this…”

“…Xstasy…” I said, picturing his face in the shadows, and his cigar between his middle and index finger — the cherry providing the only light in the entire room; the only time I had ever seen him.

“I’ll see you there,” Necro said, hanging up. I didn’t hang up. I kept the phone pressed against my ear for a good ten seconds as I stared out of the window and the field of both snow and wet grass. Then, I could picture roses…

…Burning. And people screaming as the gunfire echoed throughout the countryside. I could remember running as fast as I could towards the church, telling all of the men to stop it, begging them not to take anymore lives. I could remember my sister scream at the top of her lungs as her wedding gown turned from white to red in a matter of moments.

“Ryan! Ryan!”

And the rattling of barrels being spun, triggers being pulled, and shots being fired are not what haunted me. It was her cry for help.

“Ryan!” And I could remember her screams as her blood splattered the walls of the room, drenching it in a dark, gloomy rouge.

But I was too late…

“Ryan?” the doctor said, snapping me out of it, as I turned back towards him and out of my day dream, “I have more patients coming. You have to clear the room, but it would be advised for you please consider the treatment.”

I got up and headed towards the door, grabbing the handle with my left hand and turned back towards the doctor one last time. His two eyes seemed so hidden behind his lightly-tinted glasses. So much so, with the glare of the sun beaming in through the window, I could no longer see into his soul.

“Doc…” I said, as he turned towards me, “thanks anyway. But I don’t deserve anything. Especially another chance to deny death.”

And with that, I opened the door and walked out, leaving the doctor standing alone — wondering what it was I was talking about. But believe me, sanity was anything but flattering.

_________________________________________________________

May, Necro and I arrived at exactly quarter to midnight. The cosmic glow of the moon overhead provided more light than the streetlights beside the rather dirty, rundown motel. Its musky scent was both foul and somewhat captivating; much like Blair’s laughter. The laughter than wouldn’t leave my mind. I turned to Necro and spoke.

“You know the room number?”

“Yes. Here,” Necro handed both May and I handguns. Fully loaded. May and I nodded our heads, but I turned to her and could see that ever-enticing look on her face — the one that made me fall in love with her many years ago.

“May, if anything happens to me…” I was interrupted by her sudden eye-movement and eye-locking gaze. When our eyes locked as they did, it was either because of one of two things: something could potentially go seriously wrong, or we both felt like making love. Whatever the case, the end result before we turned away was always the same.

Our lips locked, and our tongues collided in the middle of what could easily be mistaken for a battleground. Furiously, we went at it, and embraced each other for a good minute or so before knowing we had a job to do. Slowly, we broke apart, still mesmerized by the other’s affection and liveliness.

“Let’s go,” Necro said, pushing open a door, exposing a narrow staircase, leading up to the fifth floor. It was the only way to get in without alerting the front desk attendants and employees. Luckily, a single light at the top of the long staircase provided enough brightness to show us the way.

And there we were… headed upwards into a heavenly inferno.

_________________________________________________________

I don’t remember much of what happened after we had reached the top of the stairs. I know this much: we opened the door to the room where Blair was staying. A sub-machinegun’s rattling drowned out everything else as my entire world began to slow down. Pieces of white plastered walls shattered around us as Blair lied in wait, ready to ambush us.

And his laughter — it was the only thing not drowned out by the firing of the gun, and its eardrum-damaging sound. Like it had been embedded into my mind, Blair’s looping laughter filled me with rage as both Necro and I started shooting, trying desperately to avoid getting shot ourselves. For some reason, he had a clear-cut shot at us, but we were not hit. Instead, a red substance splashed my arms and torso as I ran forward into the gunfire, taking my chance.

It was at this time, as I ran near, Necro got an excellent shot away, hitting Blair directly in the midsection, and then again soon after. He dropped his gun, and it hit the floor, spraying bullets into the ceiling for a moment before resting on the floor.

I can still picture Blair falling to his knees, and kicking him in the face as he did so, stopping his laughter, as blood found its way leaving his mouth. My world suddenly resumed to its normal pace, and I stared down at Blair with my right hand across his neck while my left hand was up in the air, ready to come crashing down onto him.

“You son of a bitch, it’s over. Where is Xstasy?” at first there was nothing. Blair gazed at me with glazed-over eyes and a bleak, lost expression all over his face. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Wh–who?” Blair managed to say before coughing up blood, getting some on my black long-sleeved shirt. I punched him once and yelled in his face.

“Where the fuck is Xstasy? The man who hired you!” as I stared a hole right through the corrupted and infected soul of Blair, Necro called to me.

“Ryan! May’s hurt!” I turned my head off to the side and could see Necro staring down at May, pressing his two hands into her chest to stop the bleeding. Yet all around me in the dark and dreary motel room, darkness seemed to manifest itself freely. The blood on the floor could only be described as dead blood. The moon didn’t shine through a window as the blinds were closed. A single light from a bathroom provided the only source of brightness, and it too, despite shining, seemed to be covered in a powerful plague.

Suddenly, everything seemed to come together…

I ran to May, pushed Necro out of the way and gazed down at her teary eyes and began pressing down on the wound, trying to keep her alive. Trying to drown out Blair’s psychotic laughter and May’s repeating words, “it’s too late for me.”

_________________________________________________________

“So… you were the source the whole time. Are you sure you were never an actor?” I stood beside May on the rooftop of our apartment complex. The sun was setting in the night sky and an aurora of pink, purple and a complex blue all came together creating a sight that seemed to be just as breathtaking as it was beautiful.

“No, I’m not an actor. It’s just that when I first met Necro he was so simple-minded. His lone goal for three months was to get revenge on those who had killed Natasha — his wife, your sister. I know how much you hate him, but he had me convinced. And I, of course, just so happened to have the list of everyone involved. I was the wedding planner after all. I thought those men were on Necro’s side of the family. If I had of known they were not, then none of this would ever have happened. You see, it’s as much my fault as it is yours and Necro’s,” May spoke nothing but the truth; I could tell so by the way she spoke — with such grace, like she was god’s gift to humanity. My precious angel who helped guide and save me from my own impending doom. Saving me from ultimate destruction.

“May, I don’t hate Necro. Not anymore. I have no reason to anymore; you’ve changed him. Together, we will all make a difference. I didn’t realise this burden was yours too…” May nodded her head and moved in closer, placing her right arm around my waist and holding me tightly.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she began to say as tears formed in her eyes, finding their way dropping down to ground. I held her tighter — like I was destined to do, to keep her safe, “if I did then everything would go wrong. The three of us all with the same goal — it just couldn’t work. So we had to keep you out of the loop. I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” I said, using my free hand and wiping away her tears, “I know how it feels like, to think you caused so much pain. I know what it feels like to experience a self-conscious torture for so long…” May continued to sob, but I moved away and looked her right in the eye — right into her two pure, caring blue eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid. No matter what happens, May… no matter what… I’ll be here.”

She nodded and smiled.

_________________________________________________________

I got out my phone, and prepared to dial 9-1-1, but Necro kicked the phone out of my hands and yelled at the top of his lungs, “No, Ryan! No, we can’t. We can’t have anyone know. We have a job to do!”

I stared down at my phone, and the numbers flashing on the screen, needing one more digit to complete the call. I looked back towards Necro and then towards May, whose eyes slowly began to open and close constantly.

“Ryan…” she began to say, reaching to my stray right hand, “don’t call them. Do it for me, Ryan. You and Necro, please… end it. You don’t know how long this war has been raging in my head. Please, put me out of my misery.”

I stared down as her hand began to slip away from my mine and find itself on her heart. As she slowly began to drift out completely, her final words never left me. The tears rolling down my eyes did not bring her back to life like some Hollywood movie. As my teardrops littered her face, she whispered ever-so slowly…

“Forever.”

The only thing I remember after that was Necro trying to control my rage as I pummelled Blair, who lied on the floor next to my now deceased angel. His blood pool infected hers, and together, they both lied side-by-side for the longest period of time, until I broke away from Necro and grabbed Blair by the throat, choking him to death in the process. Then, I placed my gun to his crotch and threatened to pull the trigger unless he told me where he was. I asked if he wanted to die with some dignity.

By doing this, he managed to finally give us what we wanted.

“When Xstasy’s father died, he inherited a lighthouse. On the top floor is where he’ll be. He has an office up there, surrounded by a glass wall and a view of the waterfront down below. It’s really nice. You’ll love it.”

After that, I pulled the trigger, blasting a hole right into Blair’s crotch. As blood leaked everywhere, I grabbed his body and threw it out of the window. His dying laughter echoed in the night until he hit the bottom, and with that, my chronic obsession over his demented holler died.

_________________________________________________________

I buried her body. You can only guess where. She never had a family of her own, but I could tell my father and her would have gotten along great. I dug the grave myself as a spring breeze rolled in. The snow was all but melted. Perhaps my scorching tears helped to that, but I’ll never know for sure.

All I know is this…

Promises. Regardless of how many times you make them, are inevitably going to break, and shatter into millions of pieces. From those pieces, they in turn will shatter, and so to will the hopes and dreams of many.

After I finished the grave, Necro said a prayer, and for the first time in my life, I prayed. Not for May, but for the existence of a god to give her new life in a world not as corrupt as ours. As I bowed my head in prayer, I could feel her whisper to me. Her final words once more echoed in my mind, masking my ideals for revenge. I closed my eyes and breathed in the morning air as her calm voice extinguished my burning rage. I spoke one final time.

“We are one…”

And she whispered…

“…Now and forever.”

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