Thursday, June 30, 2011
Autobiography of an Assassin - The Beginnings Part 1
Long title I know...I'll get more creative later. :)
One might picture my childhood as something a little horrific. That is partially correct. Although I grew up a normal child for the first years of my life, that normality ceased to exist. Due to certain events early on, I matured quicker than any child should have to as adversity spat in the face of my family.
To begin, I was born in New York City in 1895. My father and mother were Italian immigrants and my father wanted to experience the "American Culture" and try to embrace it, though to no avail. He wanted his life of deep, religious fervor and raise me in the customs of his country. He was very devoted to Catholicism and loved to preach and so my mother, enamored by the American lifestyle but loving my father too much to stay behind, spoke to him of missionary efforts in Asia. Many of her friends had visited areas around Beijing and eastern China to bring religion to those parts of the world. My father, delighted by her encouragement to serve, agreed to make the journey and preach the word of the Lord.
I remember naught of the journey. It is a blur in my aged mind. When we arrived, we lived a days walk outside Beijing in what was the small village of Yanquig. The beginning of our sojourn through Eastern China was quiet and humble, yet with no success. The people of China did not like western culture. It was a sin, imperfect, and they were taught by their religion, if they embraced the iniquitous ideals and philosophies, they would surely suffer, not just in the life to come, but in this one, as well. Thus began the Boxer Rebellion.
The hatred of the west was not the only reason for the uprising but also that China was being forced by western leaders to import opium which had caused widespread addiction. Those who feared the country was beginning to be carved by western tools, rose up and fought. At first, only small skirmishes dotted the land. But over the next five years it turned into constant bloodshed. After the conversion of a prominent Buddhist temple to be used by Christians, the Imperialist army decided to join the Boxers. Soon, there was a widespread massacre of missionaries and Chinese Christians. The battle came to our small village and with it, death.
To avoid bloodshed, my family slipped out in the late hours of the night. Imperialists were camped all throughout the small town and its borders. Our payment of passage was to take us through the river and to the surrounding forests. I remember the water being cold, but I knew nothing of the true, penetrating numbness I would soon feel.
We were a small group of just eight people. We made our way down the small river, past the outskirts of the town and made for the surrounding forests. We approached the line of trees and stopped abruptly. Our guide whispered for us to hold still. I can still remember the sound to this day. Incoherent in any situation, yet as loud as an exploding star in my ears. The sound of the arrow whizzed right into my mothers chest in an explosion of dark drops of what could only be blood. Screaming and panic soon followed. The men poured out of the trees, seeking no accord but taking the lives of the innocent with no remorse.
My father sparred no time in our escape. My mother was dead as soon as her body made the agonizing thump on the ground. I don't know how my father managed to escape. I was six years old. My mother was dead and I remember nothing. I was too entranced by the face that was fixed one me. She was dead, yet her stare was as alive as we were.
All I do remember was gaining passage on a small boat back to Italy. We were physically exhausted and our souls wracked with immeasurable pain and sorrow for the loss of my mother. I never cried once. Anger, resentment, guilt of leaving her behind is what filled me. As we drifted on the boat, the water seemingly endless as my agony, my father pulled a paper out of his pocket. It was a newspaper clipping my father had gathered sometime during our stay in China. His look was was stone cold and emotionless.
"Son, I want you to remember this face," as he handed me the clipping.
I opened up the paper and peered at the portrait of the man staring at what seemed to be only at me.
"That is the face of the man who killed your mother. Remember it well."
I still do.
One might picture my childhood as something a little horrific. That is partially correct. Although I grew up a normal child for the first years of my life, that normality ceased to exist. Due to certain events early on, I matured quicker than any child should have to as adversity spat in the face of my family.
To begin, I was born in New York City in 1895. My father and mother were Italian immigrants and my father wanted to experience the "American Culture" and try to embrace it, though to no avail. He wanted his life of deep, religious fervor and raise me in the customs of his country. He was very devoted to Catholicism and loved to preach and so my mother, enamored by the American lifestyle but loving my father too much to stay behind, spoke to him of missionary efforts in Asia. Many of her friends had visited areas around Beijing and eastern China to bring religion to those parts of the world. My father, delighted by her encouragement to serve, agreed to make the journey and preach the word of the Lord.
I remember naught of the journey. It is a blur in my aged mind. When we arrived, we lived a days walk outside Beijing in what was the small village of Yanquig. The beginning of our sojourn through Eastern China was quiet and humble, yet with no success. The people of China did not like western culture. It was a sin, imperfect, and they were taught by their religion, if they embraced the iniquitous ideals and philosophies, they would surely suffer, not just in the life to come, but in this one, as well. Thus began the Boxer Rebellion.
The hatred of the west was not the only reason for the uprising but also that China was being forced by western leaders to import opium which had caused widespread addiction. Those who feared the country was beginning to be carved by western tools, rose up and fought. At first, only small skirmishes dotted the land. But over the next five years it turned into constant bloodshed. After the conversion of a prominent Buddhist temple to be used by Christians, the Imperialist army decided to join the Boxers. Soon, there was a widespread massacre of missionaries and Chinese Christians. The battle came to our small village and with it, death.
To avoid bloodshed, my family slipped out in the late hours of the night. Imperialists were camped all throughout the small town and its borders. Our payment of passage was to take us through the river and to the surrounding forests. I remember the water being cold, but I knew nothing of the true, penetrating numbness I would soon feel.
We were a small group of just eight people. We made our way down the small river, past the outskirts of the town and made for the surrounding forests. We approached the line of trees and stopped abruptly. Our guide whispered for us to hold still. I can still remember the sound to this day. Incoherent in any situation, yet as loud as an exploding star in my ears. The sound of the arrow whizzed right into my mothers chest in an explosion of dark drops of what could only be blood. Screaming and panic soon followed. The men poured out of the trees, seeking no accord but taking the lives of the innocent with no remorse.
My father sparred no time in our escape. My mother was dead as soon as her body made the agonizing thump on the ground. I don't know how my father managed to escape. I was six years old. My mother was dead and I remember nothing. I was too entranced by the face that was fixed one me. She was dead, yet her stare was as alive as we were.
All I do remember was gaining passage on a small boat back to Italy. We were physically exhausted and our souls wracked with immeasurable pain and sorrow for the loss of my mother. I never cried once. Anger, resentment, guilt of leaving her behind is what filled me. As we drifted on the boat, the water seemingly endless as my agony, my father pulled a paper out of his pocket. It was a newspaper clipping my father had gathered sometime during our stay in China. His look was was stone cold and emotionless.
"Son, I want you to remember this face," as he handed me the clipping.
I opened up the paper and peered at the portrait of the man staring at what seemed to be only at me.
"That is the face of the man who killed your mother. Remember it well."
I still do.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
You might think my writing is pointless and droll, but that means we shouldn't be friends. Go vote! http://ping.fm/pfPbM
Thursday, June 23, 2011
New story! You can vote on which one you want me to continue writing, or both I guess. http://ping.fm/QuFCg
Z-Day
March 21, 2012
It's Z-day plus, well it's has been over a year at least. Guess the Mayans were kinda close. I am trying to look back into my journal entries to see how many days have gone by but I just don't care. I am tired, worn out, almost ready to give up. Positive thing though, at least I haven't heard one of those ambitious bastards pounding on our doors for a few days now. You hear the pounding at first and it scares you, then it turns into ambient noise, then you get so damn annoyed by them you just go out and put a few bullets in as many as you can, which in turn draws more towards you. I've become an excellent marksman to say the least.
I fear that these might be the last few days for me. Z-day came and continues to trudge forwards, eating up (literally) everyone in its path. There were more of us but, they were a lot more stupid than I was. There are four of us held up in this isolated cabin we now call home. I was hypothetically prepared for this day. My friends and I had played every game, went over every scenario in our heads, and read too many books to count on zombies. It was just for fun but who knew it would turn into something like this, something real. Damn zombies.
I kept journal entries over the past year or so of the people I have met, tried to save, tried to kill me, who I tried to kill, and who I successfully killed. Wow, that was a mouthful wasn't it? I figured zombie killing was easy. Not even close. One thing I have found out though; bullets will fade away, but machetes, swords, or really big knives last a lifetime. You just gotta sharpen them on some bones once in a while. They do the job. A nice 9-iron will do the trick if you wanna gain some space, too. Be careful of your slice though.
Humor is all we have at this point, and food. We stocked up to the brim on our stops on the way up to the cabin. I wasn't dumb. Others, I can't say the same for them. We're cozy for now. More of them keep appearing, which is weird considering how isolated we are. It has to be a smell issue. That's all we've been able to figure out. All I know is that the days are getting longer but life expectancy is growing shorter. Just a few more weeks and we should be home free.
Man, these things are annoying.
It's Z-day plus, well it's has been over a year at least. Guess the Mayans were kinda close. I am trying to look back into my journal entries to see how many days have gone by but I just don't care. I am tired, worn out, almost ready to give up. Positive thing though, at least I haven't heard one of those ambitious bastards pounding on our doors for a few days now. You hear the pounding at first and it scares you, then it turns into ambient noise, then you get so damn annoyed by them you just go out and put a few bullets in as many as you can, which in turn draws more towards you. I've become an excellent marksman to say the least.
I fear that these might be the last few days for me. Z-day came and continues to trudge forwards, eating up (literally) everyone in its path. There were more of us but, they were a lot more stupid than I was. There are four of us held up in this isolated cabin we now call home. I was hypothetically prepared for this day. My friends and I had played every game, went over every scenario in our heads, and read too many books to count on zombies. It was just for fun but who knew it would turn into something like this, something real. Damn zombies.
I kept journal entries over the past year or so of the people I have met, tried to save, tried to kill me, who I tried to kill, and who I successfully killed. Wow, that was a mouthful wasn't it? I figured zombie killing was easy. Not even close. One thing I have found out though; bullets will fade away, but machetes, swords, or really big knives last a lifetime. You just gotta sharpen them on some bones once in a while. They do the job. A nice 9-iron will do the trick if you wanna gain some space, too. Be careful of your slice though.
Humor is all we have at this point, and food. We stocked up to the brim on our stops on the way up to the cabin. I wasn't dumb. Others, I can't say the same for them. We're cozy for now. More of them keep appearing, which is weird considering how isolated we are. It has to be a smell issue. That's all we've been able to figure out. All I know is that the days are getting longer but life expectancy is growing shorter. Just a few more weeks and we should be home free.
Man, these things are annoying.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Guest Blogger #2 Jeffery Taylor - Nintendo Time
Jeffery Taylor is first and foremost a human being. Secondly, he's the greatest author-artist-musician-baker-paleontologist-customer service representative-quality assurance specialist-freight crew worker-carnie-lover hybrid the world has ever sseen. He lives with his cat Grumpy (9) and his fiancee, Randi, in their exquisite apartment situated amidst the hustle and bustle of downtown Logan, Utah, where Jeffery studies English at Utah State University.
...and he can't stand the sound of a child's laughter.
His rant will come in 3 parts about the E3 conference, first up: Nintendo
"This week marked the 16th annual Electronic Entertainment Expo (E3) video game conference in Los Angeles, California. This trade show is considered the premiere video game convention within the industry, and as such, often features reveals of the newest software titles and hardware in development.
This week was no exception.
Nintendo – Nintendo started their conference on Tuesday with an orchestra playing music from The Legend of Zelda to commemorate the series' 25th anniversary. Franchise creator Shigeru Miyamoto took the stage alongside his translator to let us know that a Zelda game was coming out for all of their current hardware. First, on the 3DS, Nintendo launched a digital shop similar to the Virtual Console on their Wii system where users could download retro games like original Gameboy and Gameboy Color games, The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening being the first game available for download. I played this game when it was originally released in 1993 and loved every minute of it. If I h ad a 3DS, I would have a definite interest in this. Coming out next week on the 3DS is the 3D remake of 1998's Ocarina of Time, one of the highest-rated games of all time. Again, I would love to play this, but $300 to play a Nintendo 64 game at this point seems a bit frivolous to me.
Coming to Dsi in the fall is the Legend of Zelda Four Swords, available as a free title downloaded through Dsi ware. I thought that was interesting. A new Four Swords was one of the first titles announced back when the original DS was first announced. Years later, it's finally finished, and it's free? Sounds like a tech demo that never went anywhere to me, but hopefully it's as fun as the original and manages to improve upon its predecessor. Finally, Miyamoto announced that the next Wii Zelda, Skward Sword, would be out by the holidays. I wasn't originally impressed with what I saw of SS (more waggle, ugh), but after hearing that Miyamoto said if it wasn't the best Zelda yet, the franchise would be shelved, I find my interest piqued. Is the Nintendo shelf like the Disney vault?
Nintendo president Satoro Iwata next took the stage to show off some 3DS footage. Iwata invited Reggie Fils-Aime upon the stage to announce specific titles, all of which seemed to be coming by the end of the year. First up was Mario Kart 3DS, which featured new mechanics which saw the inclusion of air and sea travel. Next up was Mario proper, which looked to use the 3D for some interesting platforming mechanics. Also shown were Kid Icarus: Uprising and Lugi's Mansion 2 (there was no release date mentioned on this one.) Finally, Reggie announced some classic titles redone in 3D such as Excitebike, and a 3DS Pokedex.
On to what everyone was waiting for: the reveal of the Wii's successor, the Wii U (really?) This system brings Nintendo into the HD era, with a system that rivals (if not exceeds) the capabilities of their competitors. Nintendo focused mostly on the controller, which features a 6.2” touch screen, in addition to a number of face buttons, and two circle pads, Nintendo's take on analog sticks this go round. I find it funny and kind of sad that many people apparently thought the control was simply a peripheral for the current Wii. Nintendo didn't even show the image of the new console until after the conference. Weird. Besides the tech demo stuff using the new iPadesque control, Nintendo showed a reel of footage of upcoming games, which apparently was taken from footage of 360 and PS3 games. All in all, this presser was a sight better than 2008's infamous vitality sensor presentation. Nintendo is vowing hardcore 3rd party support, but we've heard those promises before for both the Wii and the GameCube, so we'll see.
I'll wait and suspend my judgment until I get my own grubby hands on it."
Check out the link up above in the title to get the full recap of everything!
Check out the link up above in the title to get the full recap of everything!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Guest Blogger: Jeffrey Gordon Crowther
Mr. Jeff Gordon (the original) is from Malad, Idaho. Growing up in a small town, he had a lot of time to throw alley-oops to myself as well as burn a lot of inanimate objects. His motto in high school was "nard, or nothing." Women have never been able to keep their eyes, or hands, off of him but sorry ladies, he's taken. He currently resides in St. George, Utah with his lovely wife Karissa, is an avid follower of anything sports, and is known as the second hairiest man in the nation. His post today is about the corruption and evil that is beginning to seep down from professional sports through the cracks onto the collegiate level. I present to you:
Future Path of NCAA: Destiny or Demise?
By Jeffrey Crowther
The love of money is the root of all evil. For the NCAA that root has sprouted and grown into a tree so huge that it provides a shady atmosphere across the whole country. From Southern California to Connecticut, there is a growing darkness that many of us college sports fans aren’t sure if we want to shine a light upon what has been occurring in the underground of our beloved pastime.
The most recent bombshell at Ohio State University really symbolizes the state of college sports. One of the most prominent football schools in the nation has an infestation of NCAA violations that have been going on for almost a decade. The leader of their team, Coach Tressel, had an image so squeaky clean that he was nicknamed the, “Senator.” The distortion of that image was so shockingly different to the true visual of this coach that it now brings up the question of, who else is cheating? Do we really want to know? Do we want to destroy the record books for this past decade? We already have one national title vacated. If we look further into this box of Pandora’s, will we wish that we hadn’t? With all its’ complexities and endless debates, this situation comes down to what is right, and what is wrong?
Terrelle Pryor is not a criminal. Reggie Bush is not a criminal. Coach Tressel is probably an upstanding man that has helped so many people over the years. Is that our standard nowadays? If you’re not breaking the law then it’s okay? The law shouldn’t have to dictate our college sports nor our personal lives. Can there not be a higher standard to live by? When going to college it is referred to as higher learning. Shouldn’t all of the students be receiving that higher learning without the exception of athletes? With all the good that Coach Tressel has done for so many student athletes, it is feared that he has done more harm. As a college sports coach, mentor is one of the most important callings that fall under their umbrella of responsibility. These coaches are mentoring the future of America. Bending the rules and making the exceptions are exactly what we see in our politics, business, and many other areas of our country. How many graduating classes of student-athletes have been taught that because they can perform on the field, the rules off the field don’t apply? The increasing frequency and intensity of the NCAA violations leads one to believe that the field of college sports is being overtaken with weeds. The nation and the NCAA now face a monumental, defining fork in the road. Do we sweep these NCAA violations under the rug by getting rid of them, and thus allowing college athletes to get paid? Or do we hold onto the prestige of integrity that the NCAA once boasted?
A recent poll on espn.com revealed that the nation was split right down the middle on whether or not college athletes should get paid. 50% said yes and 50% said no. The NCAA can take a stand or it can go with the flow. It is pretty obvious by now that to take a stand against these NCAA violations, the NCAA needs a complete overhaul similar to the actions of Major League Baseball against the use of steroids. Doing so will result with some ugly consequences as we can see in MLB and it’s record book full of asterisks. National Titles, trophies, and records could be lost but the integrity gained.
Eyes will be watching the near future decisions of the NCAA. The house built on integrity is on fire. Do they let it burn to the ground or do they fight to put it out? They can’t sit back on their rocking chair made of gold anymore. As this fire of immorality continues to sweep across the horizon of college sports, the NCAA will choose.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Autobiography of an Assassin
I present to you my first installment of something I hope to be great. Please enjoy.
I write this by the candlelight in the stillness of the night. The darkness is overwhelming. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know who to tell, and I can’t push away the demons that have haunted me these many years. This candle, even though it emits light, its warmth I cannot feel.
I have no regrets. I have no desire to change the past from anything I have done. Not only do I choose not to, I cannot change the things I have done. They are done and if it is forgiveness I need to seek, the only person I can ask forgiveness of is God, if he will even listen to me. I am certain he has left me in the void, in the deep recesses of my mind that plague me even now. There is no escape from the things I have done, only embrace, only acceptance.
There was a time in life where I had many friends. When I was younger, popularity followed me wherever I was. Anything I tried, I excelled at. Even though friends came and went, they at least came. That has ceased now and I haven’t seen a friendly face in years. Any friends I did have, are now long gone; either taken by the conditions of life or by the realization of the malevolent desires and iniquity that was always present around me. This candle is my only friend now.
I have seen the world! OH how I have seen this world! There are parts of this earth that people can’t even imagine that I have witnessed with my own eyes. Spectacular images that bring even the toughest brigand to his knees. Things that make a person take a step back and realize there has to be a god, which these things are not a victim of circumstance, evolution, or some theory. The beauty I have beheld can only be that of the Almighty, the same Almighty that I soon go to see.
This beauty continues to fade farther and farther away from me and I can no longer enjoy the creations of God. My mind only harbors the scourge of faces I have seen taken from this life. They are the faces of sympathetic disappointment and lament. If they had voices, I am sure the howling would drive me to the brinks of insanity. I know this because these are the faces of the people I have killed. It was I who robbed them of the joys of life and in their eyes, no revenge burns against me. Instead it is pity that burns, and it wrenches my soul.
My name is Dante Boromi.
I am an assassin.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Check out my new writings and please, feel free to leave negative or positive feedback. http://bit.ly/kNicvr
Big things coming our way!
OK peoples, here it is. The big news. The biggest stuff you have witnessed since OJ Simpsons was acquitted of his crimes.
Over the next 2-4 days, I will be posting 2 different stories. I want you to pick one you like better and what you wanna read more about and I will pick that story and turn it into a 10-part series over the next 3 months. I am excited about this because I think it might kick start my writing in the right direction.
Remember, though, these are just short qualifying stories. They won't be too long but just enough to hopefully get the ball rollin.
After each story, comment on it. Let me know what you like or don't like and i'll take all things into consideration. Thank you for your help. For those of you who think this is stupid and silly, please defriend me from Facebook and all will be well.
Alex Jenkins
Over the next 2-4 days, I will be posting 2 different stories. I want you to pick one you like better and what you wanna read more about and I will pick that story and turn it into a 10-part series over the next 3 months. I am excited about this because I think it might kick start my writing in the right direction.
Remember, though, these are just short qualifying stories. They won't be too long but just enough to hopefully get the ball rollin.
After each story, comment on it. Let me know what you like or don't like and i'll take all things into consideration. Thank you for your help. For those of you who think this is stupid and silly, please defriend me from Facebook and all will be well.
Alex Jenkins
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
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