Sammy J's Stories

[sammyjstories-blog]

Free Fall, A Metaphor

Letting go is the hardest part.

That moment before you jump out of a plane. Hanging, quite literally, on the wing, looking 10,000 feet straight south on the z-axis. Heart jumping, possibly breaking, as you curl into a ball. Only your buddy(s) can save you.

Then free fall.

Spinning, hurling, end-over-end as you plummet back to Earth. Back to reality. You feel the gravity of your choice.

Upon your return nothing is changed. The world stayed the same, but you. You’re different. For better or worse, you survived, and you must continue on. With life. With everything.

Some don’t make it out of the free fall. Most do. Your chance of failure is small, yet no less frightening.

So as in love: letting go is the hardest part.

[sammyjstories-blog]

The Slow Week of Slow Pain.

This is easily the hardest week of the year for me. Mood down low, anxious with dread, and just wishing i could magicaly turn time backwards and just stay at one spot. This is a subtle cry for help. Help escaping the past, erasing the mundane. Help restoring true happiness, or pure apathy. Ramble, ramble. The end.

[sammyjstories-blog]

Fuck!

I get all sorts of miserable when I spend time in my head. Too much time dwelling on the past with no sunshine in the foreseeable future.

I just want a hug... maybe cuddles, too.

[iraffiruse]

[marigolds-sorry]

I really really needed this wow

[sammyjstories-blog]

Straight Up Nonsense

Shifting in a chair made for dwarves The light shines upon a piece of cobalt Fighting in endless wars It's a non-stop assault

Reflecting on deep black Axes and blood spatter the ground My eyes are blinded The rays of bright surround

Beards and chainmail Black and blue If roses are red Then what the hell is wrong with you

[sammyjstories-blog]

The Chronicles of Capt. Wolfbeard

Captain Wolfbeard travels the ocean of space abored the S.S. Waterlog. Searching endlessly for the siren song of perdition. Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, he starts to hallucinate. “Bring up the deflectors and re-route the power from the hyperspace drives to the guns!” He orders a bewildered crew. Not knowing if they’ve missed something on the scanners, they obey. “Fire at will into sector 79-GF!” The photons fly into nothingness. “Capt. Wolfbeard, we’ve just destroyed a mining colony…” Said the helmsman. The captain stares in disbelief, dumbfounded and drooling the crew knows something’s wrong. He blinks. Upon opening his eyes he sees the beauty in the trees and flowers through the window. He trys to speak but nothing audible is produced. His pills are working, now he can return to nothingness.

[sammyjstories-blog]

Observations

It's funny how much paranoia can be produced by someone when someone close has a change in attitude. Old feelings of jealousy stir (why they occur still confuses me), and feelings of betrayal become the foremost thought. Ultimatum's are cruel. Without one I take the hit; and with one I'm just another asshole. Women make no sense, and some will drive you straight into an utter lack of sanity.

[sammyjstories-blog]

Realizations

I've had a great deal of personal revelations lately. Namely that my love life is non-existent and I'm chasing something that's no longer there. I take no solace in this, and have recently plummeted to a depth of internal struggle I didn't know existed. I wish there was someone I could gain comfort from, someone to show me the least bit of affection. C'est la vie.

[sammyjstories-blog]

Death of Beauty

I saw Death today. It wasn't shrouded in a sweet cloak. Nor did it carry a scythe strewn with the souls of the fallen. It stared at me blankly behind the eyes of a deer. Turning the corner on my way home I slammed on my breaks at the image of deer standing in the middle of the street. I hesitated to proceed, fearful of destroying yet another car. I thought of all the bad that would come from a simple act of the circle in which life works. My being higher on the food chain, armed with a machine of death and conveyance, would mean very little financially to the unexpected and early demise of my car. I thought of the pent up rage from years of being the 'punching bag' in high school. The hatred for the common stupidity of the ever growing right wing conservative thought in my 'community'. The shitty coffee I had purchased at the gas station earlier, and how the workers probably laughed at me when I drank it. I looked up again at the deer. Blank and stupid its returned stare was. It was at that point Death made an appearance. It didn't laugh, cry, shout, or interfere. Just staring back indifferent to my situation. Something snapped... Death wasn't there for me. It was there for the deer. It was there for my barriers in place to quell my rage. I just wanted to destroy something beautiful. Tyler Durden has nothing on me.

[sammyjstories-blog]

Autobiographical Eulogy

I run forward jumping head first into the beam. It's eerie green glow pervading my retina's and eating my brain. I can feel the changes. I can feel the integration of technology with my atoms on a molecular level. There is no pain, only an omniscience of being one with everything.

I think of my love, Liara. That amazing blue ass. The amazing mind behind that beautiful, child-like face. Alien chicks do it better. Earth girls might be easy, but Alien chicks know how to please me. Mind-melding sex, literally, is what I will miss the most.

I think of my brother-in-arms, Garrus. We've been through everything. I've seen him mature into a man (adult, lion, cat-like badass?) over the course of our time together. From someone simply looking to do what is right, to someone willing to go as far as needed to keep the peace (or create it), to a brother. Him I shall miss the most.

I think of all the races and creatures I've killed. All of the 'enemies' in my path. Everyone that tried to stop me from doing what I do best: save the galaxy.

I think of the Thresher that destroyed my squad on Akuze. I remember the screams, the terror, and the big ugly worm that ate them all.

I think of who I am, and what I've done.

I think of my other choices. Controlling the threat and using it as my own would have made me no better than the Illusive man. Destroying the threat would've meant my undoing and left all those that came to help Earth stranded in our corner of space.

I have made the right choice. A middle-of-the-road option meant to do away with the endless cycle of the death and rebirth of galactic civilization. I'm glad I didn't shoot that child.

As my body disintegrates into particles and melds with artificial life, I can feel my perceptions change. I can talk to radiowaves. I can see data packets and interact with them. I can see the life I've left behind as a slideshow of photos and memories. Each sound byte a new audio file in the supercomputer that is my brain. 

I watch as the wave of green energy rips across the galaxy and creates new life, and refines the old.

I see my ship and my crew crash on a planet. I am in the air, the trees, the dirt, and even in each of them. I know now that I shall never be forgotten. I know that my legacy will live on and that all children born henceforth shall be a part of me.

I am like a god, but I am not God. 

I am Commander Shepard. SSV Normandy, N7 Specialist, Council Spectre, and this is my eulogy.

[sammyjstories-blog]

A Constant Stream

A wealth of ideas flowing through thoughts like water down a stream. The smell of the air was of purples and evergreens. Out of the corner the creature moved hesitantly. It’s ears perked listening for its enemies. A sound of metal comes from behind. It shifts its wait, in order to rotate. Staring ahead he sees his goal. Without a second thought of safety, it springs forth. Running full speed it can barely be seen. It leaps the final few feet. A cool summer night, now getting colder and longer. The breeze is chill; the haunting is coming. The creature cares not, for the world of man. It hides in its hole, protecting the weak. Her two children asleep, after having been fed. End

[sammyjstories-blog]

Murderous Moon

I turned the corner and looked up. I noticed the larger quarter-phase moon hanging in the middle of the black tapestry of night. It looked back at me, accented by the low glow of the city below, with a rusty red face of anger and hatred. The murderous intent ever present as it floated motionless. What could we have done to possibly incur the wrath of such a heavenly body? How is it this permanent fixture in our night sky could turn on us so fast? Has it been festering ever since it’s violent, cosmic birth? I pondered this ominous site more as I approached my home. The sky had changed from it’s normal stark black and blue color to a burning orange of dull, but growing, luminescence. It had made it’s final move. Slowly crashing into us from on high, and devouring our protective, invisible shield of oxygen and nitrogen. I could hear the sounds of the planet trying to fight it back. Loud groans emanating from deep below the surface. My feet trembled, but not from fright, from the crust being pulled on by the incredible gravity of such a massive extraterrestrial body entering the atmosphere.  A tear fell from my eye. This was it. The end of the world. The moon continued to fall. It’s color that of murder and death. The redness growing ever darker until every thing became white.