My writing goals

I'm writing down my goals for what I want to accomplish with my novel in the near future. Thought it might help to stay on track.

1. To finish Chapter three completely this weekend.
2. To write 5000 words a week.
3. Describe and analyze my vision and Heaven and Hell.
4. Make fun of the right-wing wacko religious nutbags in my book.
5. Decide if I want God to come back in the end. Not to stop it all from happening, but just because.
6. Figure out how to work in the destruction of the Mormon temple into my novel.
7. Complete the first edit by June.
8. Send the first draft to family and select friends.
9. Final draft by the end of summer.
10. Get published within 12 months after the final draft.
11. ???
12. Profit.

What this also means is I may not post as much of the story as I go. I do plan to post hints and I will of course post snippets here and there.

I really want this blog to be the story of my journey of finalizing something I find very profound and remarkably hard to do. Finishing a novel is not an easy task, and I hope with the support of friends and family I can complete it.

On a much lighter side, everyone have a Happy New Years! Look for a snippet of Chapter three within the week!

Gus

Ok, so I lied

Chapter three will be posted sometime this week, as I am very unhappy with the intro to the chapter. I may re-write the whole thing, or at least a portion of it.

I guess the downside to posting these things on my blog is the desire to do the chapters in succession so there is no confusion. Then again I may finish chapter 4 and decide it fits better than chapter three when it comes to order.

Whatever. I still have more to write, and the Steelers are now only down by 4. Ha!

Until later this week...

Gus

Editing chapter three..

So that should be posted this weekend. Yay!

For now, I have a surprise. The entire introduction, edited and re-worked a bit. I think it works better.

Enjoy!

Daniel could smell him. The musty scent of age and decay mixed with something sweet –cloves perhaps- mingled down the hallway into his room, viciously potent and alarming.

It didn’t hit Daniel immediately, however.

He was busy working on something important, something revolutionary. Muse blared loudly through his computer speakers; a cigarette dangled from his chapped lips, ashes falling into his lap and keyboard, stinging his hands slightly; his phone sat next to his keyboard, beeping at him like a cat desperately whining for fresh cat food. Empty Funyon bags and half-empty Mountain Dew cans sat precariously on the edge of his particle board desk, waiting for the slightest shake to spill their contents onto the messy floor. His Oregon Trail “You have died of Dysentery” t-shirt that stuck to his skinny frame was stained with ash and Mountain Dew. Time and personal hygiene had become a blur to him as he feverishly typed his letter of warning, of prophecy, and an apology, to the world.

He hadn’t realized what time it was, and was shocked as he looked out his window to discover it was night time. How many days had passed since he started his letter? What day was it? He hadn’t gone to work in days. Had anyone even noticed his sudden status change from human to hermit?

If it was a Friday night, he would have been in a bar, with friends. If it was Saturday, he should have been at one of the local casinos in Las Vegas, gambling away his meager bonus money from his mediocre job. Any other night and Daniel might have been watching Simpson reruns, maybe masturbating to internet pornography, drinking whiskey until he was buzzed enough to go to sleep. Daniel enjoyed his simplistic life, was happy with what he had accomplished, especially when looking back at his past and how far he had come.

Then he had to show up, and cause everything to swirl into an abyssal nightmare.

It doesn’t matter anymore, Daniel thought to himself as he took a brief moment to rub his green-gray eyes, and pushed his messy blonde hair back from his brow. I’m almost done. A couple finishing touches, and I can end all of this. In the background, the radio seemed to prophesize his current state:

Is our secret safe tonight
and are we out of sight
Or will our world come tumbling down?
Will they find our hiding place
is this our last embrace
or will the walls start caving in?

Then, at that moment, the potent smell, frightening and familiar, finally broke through his impenetrable wall of motive. Daniel went pale, as pale as Casper.

He is here, Daniel panicked. What the fuck is he doing here? Not yet! I’m not finished! I wasn’t expecting him so fast! Daniel stood up quickly, and went to close the door to his room.

A shoe managed to jam its way between the frame and door. A classic British wingtip, made with aged leather that was faded gray, jutted its unwanted presence into Daniel’s room.

“Commendable,” growled the voice behind the shoe, “but it won’t do you any good,” Daniel had always thought the voice sounded like Morgan Freeman, if he had spent an eternity smoking cigarettes.

No, no no no no! Dejected, Daniel opened the door, allowing his full vision of the person behind the shoe.

A large man, around 6 ft 3 inches tall, filled out the entirety of his suit with a muscular frame. The suit was classic wool that, like the shoes, was faded gray with age. It was almost impossible to gauge how old the suit was with just one look. Daniel got the image of a tailor in England, in the late 1800’s, working on the fabric, sewing on the three buttons for the jacket with delicate skill.

An impeccable white button up shirt was matched with a blood red tie. Daniel could swear that in the right light, or right environment, he could see a smiley face shimmer on the tie. A white handkerchief, folded neatly into the breast pocket, managed to show the tip of a symbol, but it was too tucked in to see it all. Daniel could almost see the start of the symbol for Anarchy, but that was only a guess.

The last detail on the suit were the New York Yankees cufflinks, aged like the rest of the suit, an old gold and pearl-white.

The man wore a fedora, with a red ribbon. Under the hat, long brown hair was neatly pulled back into a braid.

His eyes, those eyes, are what scared Daniel the most, black as night, as black as they get, with constantly angry, arched eyebrows that sheared away any thoughts of ever pissing off this man.

His nose was slightly forked, with nostrils that flared when he spoke, lips that always seemed to be on the edge of sneering.

And the scar! Razor-thin and running from one small ear to the next, along his cheekbones, right under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose, it startled Daniel with its brilliant, violent red sheen. It looked like a fresh wound days ago when Daniel met him, and it looked that way still.

Today he was clean shaven, Daniel noticed, and shuddered as the man walked into his room. The man contemptuously sighed as he looked around the filthy room, and sat down on Daniel’s full size bed that had no bottom sheet on it. Daniel dejectedly took a seat in his computer chair, and prepared for the worst.

The man stared at Daniel for what felt like an eternity, the dark eyes boring with a burning intensity that Daniel had never felt before. Daniel wanted to turn away in terror, but he knew what was at stake. Weakness wasn’t something he could afford to show with this man, so he stared right back, finding courage in some hidden part of his psyche he never knew existed until that moment. A new song blared into the fray, breaking the silence:

My blood is bruised and borrowed. You thieving bastards.
You have turned my blood cold and bitter,
beat my compassion black and blue.

Finally, Daniel spoke, breaking the staring contest.

“What do you want?” he bitterly asked.

The well-dressed man let out a small chuckle, and winked at Daniel, the tension gone from his eyes. “Oh, I just happened to be in the neighborhood. You have some funny neighbors. Did you know that Mrs. Jensen down the street is committing adultery with two men at the same time right now, while her 2-year old dreams of chocolate fountains, and her husband is away on a business trip? Three houses down, John Robbins has a meth lab in his garage.” He stopped for a moment and pulled out a very large hand-wrapped cigar from a jacket pocket, lit it with a sterling silver Zippo lighter, let loose with a satisfactory sigh, and continued. “Here we are, in a perfect storyboard middle class suburban American neighborhood, and you have horrible things happening everywhere you look! I mean, you can’t make that shit up. It’s classic!” He blew out a ring of smoke at Daniel, and started to laugh earnestly.

“If you came here to have a discussion on middle class American life, you can just leave right now,” Daniel muttered. “I already know the world is blind to its own hypocritical nature when it comes to good and evil.”

“You’re right! I’m not here to have that discussion with you, at least not yet. We are on the same page, same wavelength on that topic anyways, last I knew. In all honesty I wanted to check in, see how you were doing since I dropped that metaphorical mental anvil on your head. Somehow I doubt you immediately stood up seconds later, chasing after the Roadrunner again with Acme products meant to foil the Roadrunner’s propensity with escaping over and over again, eh?” He looked over Daniel, eying the mess on his desk and the filth on his t-shirt. “I’ve seen you in worse shape though. I love that t-shirt, by the way.”

“Thanks. It was a gift from a friend.”

“Hopefully a cute girl, a friend with benefits, right?” The man winked, smoke pouring from his mouth as he chuckled.

“Can I ask you a question, Little Horn?” Daniel asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Nice reference to the old name,” Lucifer smiled. “You must have picked up a Bible after I gave you my spiel. It depends on the question, I suppose.”

“What if your plan fails? What if divine intervention ruins your whole plan?”

Lucifer looked at Daniel, a touch of intensity swirling in his eyes again. “A fair question to ask, and I’ll answer what I can. There will be no divine intervention, and even if there is, do you really think something I have been planning for nearly two thousand years, pondering and postulating over every hole, no matter how small, that I wouldn’t have a solution for any problems that arise?”

“But according to the Bible-“

“The Bible is bullshit,” Lucifer spit on the ground and grimaced. “Never assume anything written by humans would be the true word of God, or of Jesus Christ, or even my own autobiography. Christ, humans writing the word of God is like Fox News claiming to be a network that reports news: full of tripe, entertainment in place of actual news, factual errors all over the damn place.”

“I always assumed Fox News was your move,” Daniel joked.

“I’d like to claim credit for it,” Lucifer chuckled. “That wasn’t my work though. Something to be said about that when I can’t claim credit to that particular evil deed, though Rupert Murdoch and I are close friends. We play poker a couple times a year. I swear that Aussie fucker cheats somehow, always has an ace up his sleeve. I’ll figure out how soon enough.”

“So you assume we won’t fight back, or is that just a part of your grand plan, to grind humanity into extinction? We will fight back. We will never give up.”

“Of course, some of you won’t. The rest will be praying to God to save them, and some of your kind will be making deals with my peons to spare their lives. You know this is the truth.”

“I can’t believe that. Humans have always stood on the side of good in most situations. We won’t stand for anyone making deals with you. We understand there is a hard line in the sand between good and evil, and we know not to cross that line when it appears.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Lucifer replied as he shook his head. “Most humans look at the line, and wonder how far can they cross the line and get away with it, then rationalize their actions in order to keep living in sin and not feel guilty about any of it. Do you understand the difference, Daniel? It’s fucking pathetic, is what it is. Every time a sin goes unpunished, or is ignored, you humans tolerate it and move onto your video games, and your shitty reality tv shows to shield yourselves from the truth; humanity is hypocritical when it comes to cleansing its own filth. You have created your own version of Hell on earth thanks to your ignorance and arrogance.” Lucifer paused and took another drag from his cigar. “Meanwhile, the universe moves on, not caring one iota about the happenings of humanity.” Another puff of smoke, and he grinned. “Men are nothing more than a Godforsaken speck on the universal timeline, a small zit on the universes’ chin.” Lucifer sat up slightly and leaned towards Daniel. “Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.”

Daniel shook his head. “No. You’ve already told me enough. You’ve already broken me down enough at it is, and I don’t care about your philosophi-“

“Come here, you worthless meatsack,” Lucifer interrupted, practically hissing the words as his eyes glinted dangerously. Daniel had no choice, and got out of his chair, wondering if these were his last seconds on earth. Lucifer licked his lips, and placed his mouth inches away from Daniel’s ear. Putrid hot breath, smelling of tobacco and a hint of cloves blended into Daniel’s senses, intoxicating him.

“you, you… humans,” growled Lucifer, “have been abandoned by God. He has left you and your pathetic kind to find your own way through the universe. Do you understand? His greatest mistake was to create humans in His own likeness, and that vain fucker couldn’t accept to look into the mirror He had created in humanity. He had such high hopes for His creation, but He never considered that He could be a flawed being. Killing in His name, raping in His name, destroying the planet by invoking His name; your actions created a reflection of His own consciousness; so he left. He is gone, left to go create bigger and better things, or at least He hopes. Humanity is alone, with nothing to stop me from doing whatever the fuck I want with your weak and insignificant race. You..are…alone…”

“You lie, Light-Bearer,” whispered Daniel as tears slowly began to trail down his unshaven cheeks. Lucifer leaned back, chuckling again, and stood up.

“Perhaps. I do tend to deceive when it suits my purpose,” Lucifer sardonically replied. “However, this is not one of those times.” He walked over to a Tool poster Daniel had splayed across his wall. “One of my favorite rock bands, these guys. They get it, the whole kit and caboodle.”

I have to finish, or at least send what I have done before he kills me, Daniel thought to himself. “Í have other posters of theirs in my closet,” he gestured as he wiped away tears and slowly made his way back to his computer desk.

“Hmm. Do you mind if I take a gander?” Lucifer asked.

“Do I have a choice of saying no?” Daniel sarcastically said.

“Ah, Yes,” Lucifer grinned, puffed from his cigar and walked over to Daniel’s closet. “Choice and free will are what caused a large portion of the predicament you humans will find yourselves in.” Lucifer started shuffled through the clothing, shoe boxes and old videogame machines in Daniel’s closet, searching for posters.

Now! Daniel quickly typed some remaining last words on his letter, typed in an email address on his Gmail, and hit send. I wish I had time to explain it all to her, but she’ll have to piece it together on her own. A great sense of relief washed over Daniel as he turned around to see Lucifer holding up a poster of a pig with a fork in it.

“Magnificent,” Lucifer quietly murmured as he rolled up the poster and tucked it under his right arm. He turned his attention back to Daniel, and sat back down on Daniel’s bed.

“So now what?” asked Daniel.

“Do you know why I showed you my plan?” Lucifer queried as he drew air into his cigar. “What would be my purpose of showing a human my masterpiece of design and function?”

“I was wondering about that, and as far as I can tell, there really isn’t a good reason.”

“Wrong again, my boy. A plan this magnificent, this perfect and chaotic needs an audience! You just happened to be walking by, and I thought to myself, ‘here’s a slob I can trust to understand his duty once I have given him his direction to go.’” He moved over to Daniel, and bent down to whisper in Daniel’s ear. “I know what it is you type on your computer. I chose you for this purpose because I know you are weak, and you have done what I had hoped you would do.” He backed off a bit and grinned. “I want the world to know, because humans must know in order for my plan to succeed. The Antichrist needs an audience, needs followers! Even if no one believes you, the word will begin to spread, and then-” Lucifer paused for dramatic effect, “-well, the rest of your race will have to see the wonders I have planned. Early reviews suggest it is better than Disney’s Main Street Electrical Parade, and more fiery than the volcano in front of the Mirage in Vegas.”

My God, Daniel thought to himself, this is part of his grand plan. He wanted me to spread the word. I am nothing but his tool to use… As recognition spread throughout Daniel’s thoughts, he started to sob.

“Father, forgive me,” he whispered.

“No, He won’t,” Lucifer deadpanned. “As I said, He no longer cares. The rest of this,” he gestured spreading his arms, “this world, is now a big playground for whatever the fuck I want to create. And I want Chaos!” He put out his cigar on Daniel’s bed, and pulled out a handgun with a silencer from his pocket.

I’ve done what I can. I just hope he doesn’t realize who I sent the letter to. A sense of peace, despite the threat of his impending death, flooded over Daniel.

“I am ready,” he said, and closed his eyes. Lucifer laughed again.

“I don’t need to kill you,” he pompously said. “You humans have done a brilliant job of doing that yourself since you were first created.” He set the gun next to Daniel, and patted him on his head. “You know what to do.”

Daniel looked at the gun. “Why put a silencer on it?”

Lucifer looked at Daniel with mock indignation. “What, and wake the neighbors? Always selfishly thinking of yourself, aren’t you?” He then gave a thumbs up to Daniel. “I’ll see you on the other side,” He said as he walked out of Daniel’s room.

Daniel picked up the gun. I have to do this. It’s too late for me. I have done what I can, he repeated to himself for a couple seconds. He put the gun in his mouth, turned off the safety, and put his finger to the trigger. Magdalene, and Mother, forgive me. He closed his eyes again, and pulled the trigger.

Lucifer could hear the thump of a silenced bullet entering Daniel’s skull as he walked down the hallway from Daniel’s bedroom. Down the hallway, Mathew Bellamy could be heard:

it's time we saw a miracle
come on it's time for something biblical
to pull us through
and pull us through
and this is the end
this is the end of the world

Lucifer chuckled again. “How fitting,” he mused, and walked out of Daniel’s home, into the darkness of night.

Fairly quiet

Been really busy with school, work, going to Pittsburgh for the Steelers game, etc.

And now that I finally have a free weekend to write a bit, I get a sore throat and cough.

Ugh.

Hopefully in the next few days I can put some more ideas down in concrete forms. Right now I have lots of ideas written down, and even some very general outlines.

Until then... keep looking towards the stars! Oh, and feel free to read one of my friend's blogs, Ragnarok Monkey. Most people won't get what he's writing, but it's entertaining nonetheless.

Speaking of stars..

Finally: Chapter 2: The Letter

Maggie:

You aren’t going to understand much of this, but I need to tell someone else, and you are the only person I can trust. Please pass this on to a lawyer, maybe my parents as well, because this is also my last will and testament.

You get all my stuff. I want to be cremated and have my ashes spread in Red Rock Canyon, somewhere near Overlook Point. I don’t care what needs to be done, but please make sure this happens. Oh, and tell my parents I’m sorry for the nightmare I’ve put them through during my lifetime.

Like I had said, this isn’t going to be easy to understand, and it’s gonna sound almost insane, but you have to trust me. And I promise to you with whatever soul I have left that I am not on drugs. I promise you!

Ok, here goes…

Lucifer is real. He’s fucking real, and he’s a cold, calculating bastard. For whatever reason, he found me, and I really don’t understand why he chose me as the schmuck to tell his grand plan to. I’d say he was drunk, but do Fallen Angels get drunk? Do demons drink? If I had time, I’d ask the philosophers, or maybe the Pope, but I don’t. Maybe you can look into it.

I was at the Double Down Saloon last Monday. You know the place, I’m sure. It’s really close to the Hard Rock Hotel. It has some cool art, and the Bacon Martini. Go there if you haven’t yet.

Anyways, the Monday night football game had just ended. The bar started to empty out a touch, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I ordered another Bud Light and stepped outside the backdoor of the joint to have a smoke.

So I’m standing there, trying to light my God damn cigarette, and he walks out from the dark alleyway.

I gotta give Lucifer some credit. The fucker has amazing fashion sense. He was wearing this really old suit, and a fedora. He reminded me of a mobster from the 1930’s, like Al Capone, but more sinister. He’s also huge. He has to be close to 6 foot 5 inches. The combination of a huge guy in a mobster suit and fedora, and the five beers I had downed during the evening, had me a little scared. At the time I didn’t know it was the Prince of Darkness himself, but I knew this wasn’t a normal person.

And then he started to talk. He knew my name. He knew my name!

“I knew I’d find you here, Slaton,” he said.

“Who are you, and how the fuck do you know my name?” I asked him. Lucifer smiled. He’s got a crooked smile, by the way.

“I have many names, given to me by many people for many years. You can call me Lucifer. I think that name might ring a bell with you.”

“No,” I kinda chuckled. “You don’t exist. You’re from a really shitty story.”

So then he laughs. “True, it is a shitty story, and completely false. I’m not here to discuss the historical relevance of the ‘Holy’ Bible.” He took off his fedora and walked towards me. I tried to back away from him, but had nowhere to go. Trapped like a fucking rat. “I’m here, because I have chosen you as the recipient of a gift. You understand the darker side of humanity more than most, so please to enjoy, the end of all things.” Then, faster than humanly possible, he grabbed my head before I could do anything to stop him.

He commanded me to look into his eyes. Did I have a choice? It’s Satan, for shit’s sake! I was scared as Hell at this point, so I stared into those dark eyes, as black as…well, I can’t think of anything that isn’t a cliché, but they were dark.

And I was given a vision of things to come, of the end, but not it’s not like people think.

The Antichrist won’t be a seven-headed beast with thirteen horns, like the Bible says. He will be a smooth, calculating, and cunning bastard whose personality will ooze inspiration in those around him to form together and take on the rest of humanity. He is essentially a puppet, fully controlled by Lucifer. He will at first use the flag of peace to rally nations behind his cause, and destroy nations who do not give in to his plans.

At the same time, natural disasters will occur. All of the recent tsunamis were a test by Lucifer to see if he has the power to create such disasters.

The vision I was given started with these plans, a simple outline to the end of the world. Lucifer plans to use the Antichrist, along with his powers to destroy the earth as he sees fit to sow chaos. He has no other purpose. He has no motive aside from chaos and anarchy, and from the vision I witnessed, the Rapture is one-sided. God or Jesus will not intervene, despite humans pleas for help.

After the vision was over, I fell to the ground, crying like a little bitch. Lucifer smiled down at me, and handed me a handkerchief with “555” engraved on a corner. I whimpered and sniffed for a few minutes, while Lucifer hummed “Raindrops keep falling on my head,” and lit a cigar.

I thanked him for the handkerchief and asked why it had 555 on it while I regained some composure. He snorted.

“It’s no more random than the 666 mark of the beast bullshit,” he said, moving his cigar around in his mouth. “I also got a discount if I printed fifty of them. Gotta save money where I can, right?” He laughed, took another drag, and continued.

“John was a bitch, and high as a fucking kite when he wrote Revelation. Nothing works better than a bad shroom trip to take an already paranoid mind and throw it over the edge into full blown hysteria.” He paused to take another drag. “He did a better job writing that chapter than I ever could have imagined. What a fitting end to a book where God and Jesus forgive everyone for their sins. And the seven-headed thing with thirteen horns, which is supposed to represent the Antichrist? That’s astronomically awesome, in my opinion.” He put out his cigar on the ground, and picked me up off the ground, patted my shoulder and smiled again. “Now, go do what you must. I will be keeping an eye on you.” And he walked out of the alley.

It has been days since that vision, and I have not seen him since.

I don’t know when it will start, and I don’t know who the Antichrist will be. I don’t know if Lucifer can be stopped, or if his plan has already started. I still don’t understand why he showed me what he did, but it has left me scarred. Horrendous images flooded my head, the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City erupting in flames, humans filled with rage, lustily screaming in ecstasy as they shoot and stab other humans in the name of the Antichrist, mountains trembling and falling on cities, rivers running red with blood: these images I cannot get out of my head. I so desperately want them to stop, and sadly the only way I can think to end them is to kill myself. If Hell is real, I’m already going there, so it doesn’t make much of a difference.

Please pass this on to those who need to know. Give it to religious leaders, to political leaders, newspapers, anyone who needs to-

Fuck, he’s here. I have to end this now while he’s distracted.

Listen Maggie, I love you, and I hope you survive what’s coming, or die quickly when it starts. Tell my family I’m sorry. Please make sure you tell them!

Slaton

Hmm...

So I didn't work on my novel as much as I had hoped. I was busy with homework, but ultimately, for some reason I had a lot of nervous excitement yesterday which led to being easily distracted.

Curse my love of football too, as that most certainly didn't help quash the distractions today.

Oh well. Homework this week looks to be light, so hopefully 2 things will happen:

1. Get back to my routine workout schedule.
2. Work more on chapter 2, which I have a quick outline and start to.

On another note.. Damn Steelers.. blowing ANOTHER 4th quarter lead.

Guess I should show some respect to the Bengals for not bungling it...

Thanks!

I want to say thank you to those who provided positive/critical/negative feedback to my two introduction. The general consensus is I have a really good idea, and the first section was a good starting point, but with some changes I can have a whopper of an intro as a leaping point for the rest of the work. I'm editing the introduction and should have that done tomorrow. The second chapter is the letter Slaton writes, and after I edit that, I will post that up here, hopefully sometime this weekend.

Anyways, I just wanted to say thanks, and there is a lot more to come for those who are interested!

For now, here's the best office linebacker to ever play.

Gus

Introduction: Oh Shit, Part 2

The man stared at Slaton for what felt like an eternity, the dark eyes boring into Slaton with such intensity that he started to tremble slightly. A new Muse song entered into the fray to break the silence:

Break me in,
Teach us to cheat
And to lie, cover up
What shouldn't be shared?
All the truth unwinding
Scraping away
At my mind
Please stop asking me to describe him

Finally, Slaton managed to speak, despite his unrelenting terror pulsing through his veins.

“What do you want?” he sputtered nervously.

The well-dressed man let out a small chuckle. The tension was gone from his eyes. “Oh, I just happened to be in the neighborhood. You have some funny neighbors. Did you know that Mrs. Jensen down the street is committing adultery with two men at the same time right now, while her 2-year old takes a nap, and her husband is away on a business trip? Three houses down, John Basking has a meth lab in his garage.” He stopped for a moment to pull out a very large hand-wrapped cigar from a jacket pocket, lit it with a sterling silver Zippo lighter, and continued. “Here we are, in a perfect storyboard middle class suburban American neighborhood, and you have horrible things happening everywhere you look! I mean, you can’t make that shit up. It’s classic!” He blew out a ring of smoke at Slaton, and started to laugh in earnest.

“If you came here to have a discussion on middle class American life, you can just leave right now,” Slaton muttered. “I already know the world is blind to its own hypocritical nature when it comes to good and evil.”

“No, you’re wrong,” replied the man as he shook his head. “Humans refuse to confront it. Do you understand the difference, Slaton? The world goes on as it always will since its creation.” Another puff of smoke, and the man smiled. “Men are nothing more than a Godforsaken speck on the universal timeline, a small zit on the universes’ chin.” The man sat up slightly and leaned towards Slaton. “Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.”

Slaton shook his head. “No. You’ve already told me enough. You’ve already broken me down enough at it is, and I don’t care about your philosophi-“

“Come here, you worthless meatsack,” interrupted the man, practically hissing the words as his eyes glinted dangerously. Slaton had no choice, and got out of his chair, trembling as he kneeled down close to the man. The man licked his lips, and placed his mouth inches away from Slaton’s ear. Putrid hot breath, smelling of tobacco and a hint of cloves blended into Slaton’s senses, intoxicating him.

“you, you… humans,” growled the man, “have been abandoned by God. He has left you and your pathetic kind to find your own way through the universe. Do you understand? His greatest mistake was to create humans in His own likeness, and His understanding of that has left Him heartbroken and forlorn. He had such high hopes for your kind. You have killed and raped, pillaged and plundered in His name for thousands of years, and He has finally had enough of it, for it is a mirror of His own mind, and that sickens him. He…is….gone….”

“You lie, Light-Bearer,” whispered Slaton as tears slowly began to trail down his unshaven cheeks. The man laughed again, and stood up.

“Perhaps. I do tend to deceive when it suits my purpose,” the man sardonically replied. “However, this is not one of those times.” The man walked over to a Tool poster Slaton had splayed across his wall. “One of my favorite rock bands, these guys. They get it, the whole kit and caboodle.”

I have to finish, or at least send what I have done before he kills me, Slaton thought to himself. “Í have other posters of theirs in my closet,” he gestured as he wiped away tears and slowly made his way back to his computer desk.

“Hmm. Do you mind if I take a gander?” the man asked.

“Do I have a choice of saying no?” Slaton sarcastically said.

“Ah, Yes,” the man grinned, puffed from his cigar and walked over to Slaton’s closet. “Choice is what caused a large portion of this predicament you humans now find yourselves in.” The man started shuffled through the clothing, shoe boxes and old videogame machines in Slaton’s closet, searching for posters.

Now! Slaton quickly typed some remaining last words on his letter, typed in an email address on his Gmail, and hit send. I wish I had time to explain it all to her, but she’ll have to piece it together on her own. A great sense of relief washed over Slaton as he turned around to see the man holding up a poster of a pig with a fork in it.

“Magnificent,” the man murmured. He turned his attention back to Slaton, and sat back down on Slaton’s bed.

“So now what?” asked Slaton.

“Do you know why I showed you my plan?” the man queried as he drew air into his cigar. “What would be my purpose of showing a human my masterpiece of design and function?”

“I was wondering about that, and as far as I can tell, there really isn’t a good reason.”

“Wrong again, my boy. A plan this magnificent, this perfect and chaotic needs an audience! You just happened to be walking by, and I thought to myself, ‘here’s a slob I can trust to understand his duty once I have given him his direction to go.’” The man moved over to Slaton, and bent down to whisper in Slaton’s ear. “I know what it is you type on your computer. I chose you for this purpose because I know you are weak, and you have done what I had hoped you would do.” The man backed off and grinned at Slaton. “I want the world to know, because humans must know in order for my plan to succeed.”

My God, Slaton thought to himself, this is part of his grand plan. He wanted me to spread the word. I am nothing but this man’s tool to use… As recognition spread throughout Slaton’s thoughts, he started to sob.

“Father, forgive me,” he whispered.

“No, he won’t,” the man responded. “As I said, he no longer cares. The rest of this,” the man gestured spreading his arms, “this world, is now a big playground for whatever the fuck I want to create. And I want Chaos!” The man put out his cigar on Slaton’s bed, and pulled out a handgun with a silencer on his pocket.

I’ve done what I can. I just hope he doesn’t realize who I sent the letter to. A sense of peace, despite the threat of his impending death, flooded over Slaton.

“I am ready,” he said, and closed his eyes. The man laughed again.

“I don’t need to kill you,” the man pompously said. “You humans have done a brilliant job of doing that yourself since you were first created.” The man set the gun next to Slaton, and patted him on his head. “You know what to do.”

Slaton looked at the gun. “Why put a silencer on it?”

The man looked at Slaton with mock indignation. “What, and wake the neighbors? Always selfishly thinking of yourself, aren’t you?” The man then gave a thumbs up to Slaton. “I’ll see you on the other side,” the man said as he walked out of Slaton’s room.

Slaton picked up the gun. I have to do this. It’s too late for me. I have done what I can, he repeated to himself. He put the gun in his mouth, turned off the safety, and put his finger to the trigger. Magdalene, and Mother, forgive me. He closed his eyes again, and pulled the trigger.

The man could hear the thump sound as he walked down the hallway from Slaton’s bedroom. He took off his fedora and placed it on his heart, and muttered a prayer. Down the hallway, Mathew Bellamy could be heard:

it's time we saw a miracle
come on it's time for something biblical
to pull us through
and pull us through
and this is the end
this is the end of the world

The man laughed. “How fitting,” he mused as he put his hat back on and walked out of Slaton’s home, into the darkness of night.