Star Wars: Episode 1 -

A ninja mime chases down a few rent-a-cops while a whining child fumbles his way through a civil war.

Star Wars: Episode 2 -

A culmination of terrible life choices results in one giant, raging ego. Also the whining child has grown up into a whining teenager and starts another war.

Star Wars: Episode 3 -

Everybody loves space opera, so I thought you might want some space opera in your space opera. Annoying teenager lashes out in self hatred and kills annoying children in an attempt to kill himself. Suicide attempt almost succeeds, but becomes a robot instead. Space ninja order eradicated.

Star Wars: Episode 4 -

If you thought the previous lead was annoying, whoa boy! Whining farm boy (annoyance must be hereditary) becomes Mary Sue and blows up a moon just to get revenge for a creepy old space ninja.

Star Wars: Episode 5 -

Like tandem skydiving, but instead tandem tantrum throwing. Robot from before channels his inner teenage angst to capture his teenage angsty progeny. Hands up - HAH! I remember something about a bunch of snow somewhere...

Star Wars: Episode 6 -

Teenage angst vanquished! ... Not. Whiny adult leads teddy bear rebellion against the space robot. Fireworks and booze for all the teddy bears. A weird love triangle gets resolved when it turns out the one redeeming factor about the whiny bunch is that they don't like incest.

Star Wars: Episode 7 -

Did you see episode 4? Replace whiny teenage boy with inexplicably perfect teenage girl. Everything else remains unchanged. Unofficial title is Star Wars Episode 7: The Search for More Merchandising.

Star Wars: Episode 8 -

Tonight, there's going to be a jailbreak, somewhere in this town! Tonight there's going to be a jailbreak, and every intelligent person even remotely associated with the project will abandon all hope and leave. The most boring space race of all time crawls on by while an insubordinate dick wad goes on a side quest. Girl Perfect meets whiny incestor who still hasn't found a cure for all the whining going on in the galaxy. Oh, did I forget to mention the most whiny of all characters, New Space Robot? Yeah. New Space Robot, version 2: now serving cheese with its whine.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” says the coroner shaking his head as he stares down at the mess on the floor. Blood pools around the head of a man lying at an awkward angle.

An officer whistles low. “Check out the scars on him,” he says.

“Yeah. These suicides have lots,” the coroner replies.

They can hear a woman in the hall, sobbing loudly, “I talked to him this morning. He said he was fine.”

Her parents opened the door immediately, on my first knock.

Two middle-aged people, stressed out and worried; the mother constantly biting her lower lip while the father kept on adjusting his spectacles without there being any need for that.

“We took her to so many doctors, to so many churches. So many pastors prayed and poured holy water on her. Then the ..................... condition seemed normal for few hours but it always keeps coming back.”

The wife dabs at tears falling down her face while the husband dutifully puts a hand on her shoulder, although he seems in as much need of consolation as her.

“Please, we don’t know what to do.”

“Can you do something for her?”

I promise the wife that I will do the best I can for their daughter.

* * * * * *

Being an exorcist is no easy job.

You never know what the hell you’re up against; whether it’s an agitated spirit, a horde of corrupted souls or a demon who has decided to take some poor soul for a spin.

Plus, this is my first sole exorcism.

I’ve seen it being done quite a few times and have helped to do it but I’ve never done it without an experienced exorcist by my side.

I wouldn’t have tried to do it by myself either but no one who can help is around and the girl’s condition seems to be worsening rapidly.

If whatever possessed her didn’t kill her, hunger, thirst or some physical affliction would.

They had not been able to feed her or even give her water for a day or two.

I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing as I entered her room.

If I screw up she would be dead. But if I did nothing the result will probably be the same.

Damned if you do.

Damned if you don’t.

* * * * * *

Her room felt ‘off’.

There was no cooling, yet the room was cold and the air itself felt charged.

The girl, a weak-looking tiny thing in her late teens, with bones nearly poking out of her skin lay in a disorderly tangle on the bed, sweating despite the cold.

She looked more dead than alive and the only signs of life were the slight heaving of her chest and incoherent mumbling from time to time.

She seemed completely oblivious to my presence with eyes staring vacantly at the blank wall in front of her.

This changed as soon as I took out from my pocket my book of incantations, a small, worn book with a plain black cover, which had seen better days.

The girl looked at me and gave a strange unsettling smile.

I gave a nod in her direction - it was time.

I opened the book and started reading.

And all hell broke loose.

* * * * * *

At the end of two hours her room was in tatters.

I myself nearly had my eyes scratched out and some buttons were missing from my shirt.

But the job was done.

The girl was sleeping peacefully, exhausted.

I stayed around for two more hours as a precaution but it was clear that the demon that had possessed her was gone.

The mother was sobbing - only this time it was tears of relief and gratitude.

As I left, the father threw his hands around me and thrust an envelope in my hand.

I protested, knowing that it was way more than my charge, but they were adamant.

They had their little girl back and for them no price was too high for their daughter.

As for me, I had just completed my first sole exorcism; I was officially an exorcist.

* * * * * *

It was the first of many exorcisms.

Over a decade, I did hundreds of exorcisms - mostly successful, some less so.

If all goes well, it’s red carpet treatment from the family of the possessed.

If not, it’s about managing to get out of the window and making a break for it before cops come banging on the door, trying to find out how a man can slash both wrists and stab his own eyes out, before bleeding to death.

At night, when all is quiet, I still hear the shrill screams of those I couldn’t save.

In my nightmares I again feel the blood spraying across my face or the dredded sound of the crack of a neck bent beyond its limit.

But unfortunately, that’s not the worst of it.

* * * * * *

In my first year as an exorcist, on my bedroom walls I started hanging photos, cards and letters sent by my successful 'patients' and their families.

When shit hits the ceiling, it helps to have some perspective; to see the good you’ve done, to see what you have achieved and the people you’ve managed to save.

The most visible spot was always for photos sent by the parents of Lisa, the teenage girl I saved through my first exorcism.

Her parents used to send me a big Christmas card every year, for five years.

Right until Lisa got addicted to drugs and ultimately died from a drug overdose.

The story was more or less the same for most of my other ‘success’ cases.

You see, I can dispel demons and corrupted souls from people, at least most of the time.

But in the end that’s not enough.

I am an exorcist, I can only chase back to hell demons and corrupted souls who find shelter within people.

But it’s not demons from hell that corrode people. It’s the demons within themselves.

And I have no cure against them.

I can't save people from themselves.

At night when the nightmares come, I wake up and look at my empty bedroom wall and think about demons, the ones that I can do nothing about.

The ones that matter.

#fantasy #demons #shorstory #dark #prose

This is something like a love letter. This is probably something like a rant. This is too many words, brain-spillage. This is not poetry. This is not prose. I am sorry if that is what you were expecting today. I’m sorry if I am not what you were expecting today. I am not what you need. I am I. I am probably not what you were expecting today. I am single-drop hemoglobin in vast, ocean-endless veins. You are type-O carrying while I am AB-incompatible, toxic. I am I. I am I, inside of I. And I tend to lack the propensity required to carry on conversations. I tend to lack the emotional drive to lend myself to others more than just temporarily. I am I, internal-searching. I am I, inward-facing. This is expulsion. Evac/Recharge. Evac/Recharge. I am lack of responsibility for you. Do not leave your feelings in my hands. Do not expect me to hold water or sand. I am sieve. I am leaking. I am not fit for holding. I am vessel of me. I am awareness-raised yet surprise-unwarranted. When I say I am inconvenient. When I say I am unreliable. When I say I am lacking. I am dissociating. I am I. Please believe me.

Have you seen “Karate Kid”? Great movie. My favorite scene is when Daniel-san learns how to shine Mr. Miyagi’s car: “Wax on. Wax off. Don’t forget to breathe.” I thought of that recently when I stepped from my writing room into the kitchen. As my foot hit the floor, I had a disconcerting moment. What happened? My big boy pants slipped unceremoniously from my waist to my ankles: “Pants on. Pants off.”

Normally that would have been embarrassing, even though nobody was home. But now I classify it as an NSV.

Question One: What does NSV stand for? Non-Scale Victory.

Question Two: What’s a Non-Scale Victory? Something truly wonderful.

Let me elaborate.

When I started my health journey back in December, a friend cautioned me not to get pre-occupied with weigh-ins. Why? She said weight was only part of the success equation.

That’s when she alerted me to NSVs.

For example, a year ago I could not get my shoes on because I weighed nearly 400 pounds and my feet were swollen. Once I lost weight and my feet got un-swelled, I was able to put on shoes. Might not seem like a big deal, but (trust me) it was. That’s a Non-Scale Victory.

Need another example?

OK. How about this: During the few times I left the house last year, it took two people (the driver and I) to get my safety belt into the lock position. By the time we heard “click,” I was huffin’ and puffin’ with chest pains. Now, I “click” by myself.

Need more?

Couldn’t get into regular pants last year. Had to wear those stretchy things with a thick string around the belly that needed to be tied into a loopy-loop, like a knot on your shoe. Now? Recently got a brand new pair of regular pants—belt and all.

But let’s get back to the “pants on-pants off” incident. Standing there, with one foot in my writing room and another in the kitchen, was a metaphor for my ongoing transformation—like when a caterpillar sheds its cocoon to become a butterfly.

What about you? Are you taking care of yourself? You should. I waited until age 71 to get healthy. (It’s a miracle I survived that long.) My big regret is that I didn’t start sooner.

Sure, I’ve given up stuff — like pizza, pasta, potatoes, cake, and cookies. But I’ve gained something, too: the chance to see my grandkids graduate from high school. Seems like a great trade-off to me.

How about you?

I’m not talkin’ about dieting. (Been there; done that.) I’m talking about a genuine paradign shift — from Twinkies & Snickers to lean and green.

Is is worth it? It has been so far. (I’ve lost 60 pounds since December, and feel much better.)

All I’m sayin’ is, “Think about it.”

What have you to got to lose? Weight for one thing. What have to got to gain? Health, for starters — and a whole new adventure in living.

The super power of making peanuts laugh uncontrollably. You would never know the tasty protein packed goodness was anything but a peanut treat. Captain Chuckle Nuts possesses the power to bring any peanut alive for the purpose of making them laugh hysterically. Apart of the peanut gallery some would speculate .

Captain Chuckle Nuts was born with the great power of crazy nut laughter. “An with great power comes great responsibility”. Since a child he has been secretly bringing peanuts to life just to allow them to laugh up a peanut storm. Who says jiffy was ever a laughing matter?! Well Captain Chuckle Nuts that’s who!!!! Everything form beer nuts to chunky peanut butter he has the uncanny ability to have them dying on the floor laughing like anaphylactic shock.

Captain Chuckle Nuts strikes again!!!

A lame superpower is probably flying, superspeed, or superstrength.

Whoever is reading this must be thinking, What is she saying? I would love those powers!

That’s exactly it.

There cliches.

Used over and over again, even after they dreid up.

There lame and uncool, and if everyone picked a power, these three powers wouldn’t be cool at all.

They would practicaly be unsuper.

The lamest superpower is one that cannot be displayed to other people. It is also impractical, useless, possibly gimmicky, and uncool. Maybe you can turn white objects white.

What is a superpower? It's a personal power that only you have. It's something that only you can do, and it's supposed to be powerful and awe-inspiring.

What do superpowers do? They allow you to change things. Off the top of my head, every superpower I can think of changes something in a way that no one else can. Either it changes the power's weilder or the world around the weilder.

I would define superpowers as tools used to change the world. Maybe the tool is blunt, like the ability to shoot fire. It only burns things, and you can only use that ability for certain tasks, but it's a tool nonetheless. So I would say that all superpowers are tools.

So the lamest superpower is something that everyone can do, and it changes nothing.

Maybe you can take a Syndrome approach from The Incredibles. "And if everyone is super, no one will be." But no, I don't think that's an acceptable answer.

Could you just intuitively say that the lamest superpower is something dumb, like being able to fart louder than anyone else? Or make your arm hairs stand up on end at will?

Maybe. But I don't think so. I think it's good to look at it logically and seriously. I like what I said before: "The lamest superpower is something that everyone can do, and it changes nothing." I think it's a good rule of thumb for the "lamest superpower", and by using it, you might come up with a superpower that's unarguably lamer.

I have an idea for the lamest superpower, but it might actually be a little interesting.

So maybe the lamest superpower is one that gives you the physical abilities of the average man. Take me for example. If I had that power, it'd do nothing to me. It wouldn't change me, it wouldn't make me different from anyone else, and it wouldn't give me any advantages over weak people that I don't already have. If you give this power to a stronger man, it'd make him weaker. If you give it to a weaker man, he would certainly have experienced personal growth, but he would still have only risen to yet another level of mediocrity, albeit a higher one.

On second thought, you could say that the lamest superpower is one that makes you weaker than the average man. But I don't think so. It'd be like having an ability that gives you some sort of degenerative disease. It would be terrible, negative, and would simply suck, but I'm not sure if it falls under the category of "lame". If a guy had the ability to generate fire, but the fire burned him, you wouldn't say "lame". You'd say, "poor guy". You'd pity his poor lot in life. If you had the powers of an average man, no one would care about you. Imagine standing in a bar and declaring that you had those powers. What the heck? Who cares? It means nothing. It changes nothing. Having the physical powers of a weak man is pretty bad, but I wouldn't call it lame. But getting a superpower that designates you as average and easily overlooked? I think that's lame.

Hmm.

I think I talked too much and tried to explain too much at the end there.

Maybe instead the lamest superpower is one that you can really make fun of, and if that's the case, there's too many to list.