Please join hands and bow your heads for the blessing.

Dear Heavenly Father,

We thank you for this day, a day when we can all be together to marvel at your works and the bounty you’ve set before us.  We are humbled by this feast and we ask that it be a blessing to our bodies as we partake of it together.

But above all, oh Lord, we, like so many other families gather together around dinner tables this Thanksgiving Day, thank you for Mr. Sam Raimi; a man who, in this world of imitators, hacks and fast-food cinema, is a true auteur, whose influence can be felt in whatever project he touches, whether directing, writing or producing.

We thank you for his roots, working in shared editing rooms with the Coen Brothers, while taking his homemade horror flick “Evil Dead” from theatre to theatre by hand all the while earning the cult classic status it still enjoys today.

We give thanks for the genius that is “Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn” and “Army of Darkness”, films that taught us that a chainsaw, a shotgun and a high school physics textbook are all the tools one needs to defeat the denizens of the damned.  We especially give thanks for the “Medieval Dead” director’s cut which gives us a glimpse at Ash’s fate as the last man on earth.  We love the extra drop of sleep potion gag, oh Lord, as it remains a classic to this day.

We are grateful for his succulent side dishes, “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys” and “Xena: Warrior Princess.”  And we are even grateful for the vegetarian lasagna-like offerings of “Jack of All Trades”, “M.A.N.T.I.S.” and “Cleopatra 2020.”  We realize that although no one seems to enjoys those dishes, they were still made with love.

We thank thee for appetizers “Darkman” and the genre-bending western “The Quick and the Dead.”

And finally, Lord, we thank you for “Spider-Man,” my all-time favorite super hero brought to life on the big screen in a way that not only honors the source material, but improves upon it – we’re lookin’ at you, organic web shooters.  We also thank you for “Spider-Man 2″, one of the undisputed greatest comic book movies of all time.

To hell with “Spider-Man 3.”

Heavenly Father, I could go on and on about all the wonder, style, laughs, scares and iconography Mr. Raimi has brought into our lives, but people are hungry and I’m starting to get the stink-eye from my nephew Darrion as well as my pregnant wife who is impatiently waiting to eat for two.  So I’ll just wrap this up by paraphrasing a line of dialogue written by the man himself, which I think, summarizes nicely how this quirky, Hollywood outsider became one of the most beloved creative minds of a generation:

“Sure, I coulda been king.  But in my own way, I AM king.  Hail to the king, baby.”

Amen.

Oh, and please bless his weird brother Ted.

Amen.

I have already said that I spend a lot of time on afterellen.com. I like the articles, the way it is presented, the snap of it (I have actually written an essay about it… maybe I will put it up on the essay page… I’ll think about it). So, is what I do every morning I read and this morning came across this article:

http://www.afterellen.com/TV/2009/11/characters-were-thankful-for

For those too lazy to follow the link: some of the bloggers of the page came up with a list of lesbian and bisexual character they are thankful for (since it is Thanksgiving and we all have to be thankful for something). The list was not what I thought it would be, some of the characters surprised me, most of all Nancy Bartlett (Sandra Bernhard) from “Roseanne.” I remember her, of course, since I watched that sitcom and still watch it’s reruns because I love the show.

Well, I started thinking abou the question myself but must have lost track because I thought of another character on “Roseanne” that was one of my favorite “lesbians”: Jackie Harris (Laurie Metcalf). Those of you who know the show may now say, but she wasn’t a lesbian. Yet she was. Strangely enough, in the last episode of the show Roseanne reveals that it was not her mother but her sister who had come out that last year of the show – she just changed it in her story, which was the show (it got complicated, but I thought it was well done). And I was not surprised. I guess, in a way I had always seen Jackie as lesbian, and her horrible track-record with men had little to do with it. She was just so… so gay.

And she wasn’t the only one on the show:

Darlene (Sarah Connor) to me became a sort of stereotype for lesbians-that-wasn’t. This is to say, they were character that should have been lesbians but the story-tellers, conventions, the invisible God that is society did not allow them to be lesbians. They were smart to a fault, arrogant because of it, had poor social skills and would say the seemingly meanest things – but not be aware of the meanness. Here are those I remember:

Remember “Growing Pains”? If I remember correctly it was the show, Leonardo di Caprio came out of (that’s not him in the picture, though). Tracy Gold’s character Carol Seavers was edgy, intelligent and usually the most grown up of the Seaver-kids. The constant reference toward her weight on the show brought on eating disorders for Gold and she had to resign… maybe she would have been happier if the writers had made her come out and tell her brother to finally shut up!

Andrea Zuckerman (Gabrielle Carteris). You cannot believe how much in love with her I was (without even knowing it). She was the main reason I watched “Beverly Hills 90210.” She was the oldest in a cast full of actors who were too old to play high-school-kids but, man, she could pull it off. Her character was the one who would hint at the controversial stuff discussed early in the show (remember the discussion about condom-dispensers in the school’s bathroom, the fact that she was probably the first teen on a tv show that had an African-American boyfriend…). Unfortunately, she was also the one with sexual missteps such as sleeping with her college professor, and the first of the girls who got pregnant (the only one?). I think, the writer’s never know what they are supposed to do with intelligent girls, so they make them sexually inexperienced and dumb in the respect of birth control.

Paris Gellar (Liza Weil). She’s classy, ambitious, an impossible character to love but I did that. And when you think about it: her first love-interest on the show was a boy she couldn’t have, then a boy she hardly ever saw, then an elderly – or rather “old” – man (what is it with would-be-lesbians and their professors?)… a closeted lesbian, if you ask me. The relationship with that editor-dude (whom I still blame in part for the death of Tara on “Buffy” – hate ‘em all!!!) was a mistake, clearly, they should have just given her a girlfriend and be done with it.

And last but not least (and she’s still on, even though they try to change her character and fit it into their little cake pan for heterosexual women):

Yes, Bones. And let me tell you, I get the goosebumps when Brennan (Emily Deschanel) and Cam Saroyan (Tamara Taylor) are leaning closely over a dead body… and not because of the dead body. What can I say, I am twisted…

Just to come around, the lesbian / bisexual characters I am most thankful for (and I guess they are obvious answers, but I am an obvious kind-a-gal):

Ellen and…

Xena, of course!

Okay, this is a birthday-treat for me. I am getting to write about one of my favorite things (so what, if it’s a tv show?). I have been a tv junkie since forever. I would sit in front of a tv set for hours even when I was just a kid. The first thing I did when I came from school, I would turn on the tv and then get hypnotized till I had to go to bed… I guess, you could say I was partly raised by the stuff that was broadcasted on German television… nowadays, I don’t even own a tv set.

The reason is that the tv program really sucks. I mean, really, really sucks. And part of the reason is that in 2001 they stopped doing “Xena.” You probably think, that this is not really a reason, but it is, actually. Think of what they produced afterwards and you have to agree. All those “great” shows that ran ever since 2001 were in most cases sexist, anti-feminist, anti-queer, or just plain stupid! And Buffy was cancelled two year after “Xena” and I didn’t even watch the last season because they killed off Tara at the end of six… I’m still mad about that.

Y’know, ever since I came across this weird show with the leather-clad heroine and her chatty friend  I wondered what made it so special. Most people still think that it was mainly a female version of “Hercules: The Legendary Journey” but it was not. It was not (technically) a show about lesbians, it was not even a fantasy show (not for me, anyways). It was a show about friendship (yes, even as a maintexter, I have to admit that it was mainly about that), the sort of friendship we are all looking for. The sort of friendship where your daughter can kill your best friend’s son and you are still forgiven (man, that plot really rocked!). So, if you have never seen an episode I’d say you missed out on something. But it’s never too late since even in Germany you can now purchase the DVDs.

I remember when I first heard of the show, I was like: Oh, no, not another show about pseudo-greek-mythology. I had never seen a Hercules-episode because I am actually a fan of Greek mythology and thought I could not stand something that was an Americanized version of it. No way, no how. Unfortunately (or fortunately, as it turned out) they showed “Xena” on Sunday afternoons and there was absolutely NOTHING on at that time of day. So I usually switched from one program to the next, bored beyond reason… and then I came across the ending of “Here she comes, Miss Amphipolis” and saw two women kissing (it wasn’t really two women, it was a drag-queen that kissed Xena “full on the lips”, but he was dressed as a woman but since I had not seen the whole episode I did not know that). The thing is, I didn’t even know I was gay at that time, still, it intruiged me and I had to tune in the next time, which was “Destiny” – also intriguing because Xena dies in that episode (and I did not know that this was just another ordinary plot device). Gosh, good times, good times. *lol*

The show was unconventional. It was – should probably write “is” – feminism in practice. Then there is the more than hinted at lesbianism… but more importantly the love between the main characters. They did a lot of extraordinary things on this show, often for the first time in television history. It was ground-breaking. Willow (on “Buffy”) would probably not have been a lesbian if it wasn’t for “Xena.” There would probably also never have been a musical episode on “Buffy” without “Xena” (Joss Whedon was a Xenite – maybe he still is).

It is actually kind of sad to look at television now. Post-Xena television is business-as-usual. Women have gone back into the kitchen (which is a metaphor for the genres women usually inhabit and action-shows are not among them), you just have to look at “Heroes” (a show I actually like): two female heroes and a lot more male heroes… look at crime shows, most of them have one female cop and loads of male cops, feds, whatever… sad, really, to watch tv.

The 90s (and early 00s) did not only have Xena and Gabrielle, there was Buffy, Willow, Faith, on “Buffy,” Jessica Alba was “Street Angel” (if only for two seasons, or was it actually three?), but whenever they come up with a female hero now it is recycled and not very long-lived (Sarah Connor and the “Bionic Woman” did not survive, why?).

Well, you see, “Xena” was good as long as it lasted (she died too young!). I am now waiting for “Spartacus” to take up that threat – please, let Lucy kick some ass, TPTB, I’ve waited so long for this!

Finally, “Bitch Slap” has a release-date, the downside is, I won’t be here anymore or anywhere near the movie-theaters they’re playing it in. New York, Los Angeles and San Francisco are the lucky cities that show this film that has been on my dying-to-see-list since I first heard about it.

Let’s time-travel a little, because I think, the first time I heard about it was – I don’t know – two or three years ago. I was looking up Lucy and Renée on imdb.com and saw that they were both cast for the same movie… for some reason, that got me hooked (oh, by the way, if you don’t know who Lucy and Renée are: does the quote: “I’ve got many skills.” ring a bell with you? No? Then, what are you doing here?). So, I have been waiting a long time for that release-date (watching trailers, visiting the official web-site, watching the trailers again), but it seems that I have to wait even longer. Seems that the DVD is coming out in April… hm, I wonder if they will maybe show the movie in Berlin. *havingagoodideaformybirthdaywishtomorrow*

If you are able to watch it in those few theaters who will actually show it (in case I haven’t mentioned, release-date is January 8th, 2010), or on DVD or via telepathy (well, I don’t know you well enough to know that you cannot do that), in any given case, watch the red-band trailer here:

http://www.traileraddict.com/trailer/bitch-slap/red-band-trailer

Oh, and you might wanna put a towel over your keyboard – audiences of the trailer have been reported to drool… just a precaution.

So, I guess I should go into the appeal of this movie. I guess, you would agree that the trailer looks a little Tarantino. Well, it should since “Bitch Slap” is ripping-off of 70s exploitation movies and we know how much Tarantino likes to do that. But maybe this is even better: think of “Xena: Warrior Princess” meeting 70s exploitation movies. The Producers of “Bitch Slap” are Eric Gruendemann and Rick Jacobson (who were both involved a lot in “Xena”), Lucy and Renée are in there, as well as Michael Hurst and Kevin Sorbo, and what was his name, the dude who played Joxer’s son, William Gregory Lee. Plus, Zoe Bell who was Lucy’s stuntdouble. Need I say more?

Exactly! What else: hot women, big guns, Lucy and Renée, things that blow-up, girls kissing (each other), Lucy and Renée, more hot chicks, men get beaten-up and have I mentioned – LUCY and RENÉE in ONE movie TOGETHER!!!

Am I obsessed?  I have been since ca. 1997. But I tell you what: as soon as I have finally seen it I will write a feminist review on why women (straight women, because I would not keep lesbians and bisexual women from watching this for the world) should not watch it.

May God have mercy on your soul…

15h11

17
6
3.5
3

I admit it. I’m now following AnnatheVisitor on Twitter. I don’t know why. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I miss Party of Five. Got to get that in my Netflix queue. Maybe I should start writing about old, canceled shows.

Let me tell you something about me: I have a very short attention span and there are a lot of things constantly vying for my attention. On a scale of 1-10, this show now gets a 2 and that’s being generous. I just get bored, my eyes wander, and before you know it I’m reading about something like Oyster Toadfish. And then because my curiosity gets the better of me, I’m looking up a vid on YouTube because I just have to see that damn fish in action. Aren’t they cute?

Okay, okay! Back to V! What happened this week? Ryan tells Valerie he would never want to keep any secrets from her, especially the fact that he’s a scaly, lizard-like reptilian under all that attractive fake human skin. Well, okay, he didn’t, but I really wish he would. I want to see the look on her face. Now that would definitely keep my wandering eyes glued to the screen!

John Mays is the leader of the 5th Column, not John Mayer, although that would be a lot more interesting. Who would suspect that John Mayer was really an alien? It’s doubtful they could convince him to act in this show, though. Has he ever done any acting? Better stop before I get distracted.

We learn that 642 earthlings died as a direct result of the Visitors making their presence known on earth. I say making their presence known because we also learn that some Visitors have been around for at least 20 years.

Anna still bores me.

Tyler and Lisa stare at each other, recite insipid dialogue, and we get to see both of them half-naked. I could care less. That’s all I got on that.

One thing that the writers have managed to do is create what I call a clusterfuck of convolution. I don’t believe for one minute that the earth will ever be rid of these aliens. They are obviously way too far ingrained into the planet to ever be totally removed. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing that I believe this or not, but at least the writers made me believe something.

So at the end of this week’s show, we finally see the four resistance members together in the same room. This show moves as glacially as Days of Our Lives sometimes! They are Erica, Fr. Jack, Georgie not George, and Ryan.

As I was watching Anna attempt to fake human emotion before meeting with Mary Faulkner, I was struck by a thought. What if…

They recast the part of Anna with Lucy Lawless? As far as I know, Lucy doesn’t have a regular gig and she would bring not only Xena fans to the show, but Battlestar Galactica fans, too! Plus, she can turn “Evil Xena” on and off at will, which would be perfect for Anna. And I just like Lucy Lawless better than Morena Baccarin. If Lucy was onscreen, I’d pay more attention. Especially if they had Renee O’Connor guest starring and then decided to move her into a permanent role. But I digress!

Lucy Lawless could turn on her Evil Xena as Anna!

Now, here’s my other idea, and this is clearly a stroke of genius! Bring on Jessica Leccia, fresh from Otalia fame, to play a lizard who infiltrates the resistance. Nobody suspects that she’s really pure evil because she’s angelic looking and has really cute dimples! They don’t even make her take the “human or not human” test, because well, just look at her! This would be a very exciting multi-episode arc, until she is eventually revealed to be reptilian! Very exciting for us to watch because we think she’s human and we never suspect! Perfect casting. And like Lucy, Jessica has no gig right now. Except Venice, of course.

Jessica Leccia as an unsuspecting Visitor!

That’s all I’ve got for this week. I have to go check my Twitter account. Anna might have tweeted!

There is no earthly reason for this picture to be here except that I'm bored with V and looking at this picture is way better than watching the show.

I have just read that there is a new TV show in the makings: “Charlie’s Angels”. Well, not that new, really, because most of us should remember the original Spelling-show from the 70s not to mention the two recent movies. And it is not surprising that one of the people involved in this new show seems to be Drew Barrymore.

I am not sure if this is such a good thing, though. Believe me, I love Drew Barrymore and not just because she was the little girl on E.T. (which was by the way a rather scary movie which I would not be unhappy to never watch again). Drew Barrymore has proven that she is a great actress, a capable producer and director (I have not seen “Whip It!” yet but I am going to). But unfortunately, I hated the two “Charlie’s Angels” movies. I am not even sure why – I don’t think that Cameron Diaz would be reason enough to hate a movie though I am not especially a big fan of her. But I guess, it’s because I loved the original series so much.

Kate Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, and Jaclyn Smith kicked ass! And I even liked Cheryl Ladd (in re-runs even Shelley Hack, Tanya Roberts not so much, though). Of course, today I can also see that I was a total goner for Kate Jackson (the first in a row of many Kates…).

That picture, by the way, is from the episode that had Kim Basinger in it… *smile*

I remember her better from the show “Scarecrow and Mrs. King” (in Germany “Agentin mit Herz”). Gosh, I loved that show, too. As you may have noticed I am travelling down memory lane by now but that’s okay, too, after all, this is my blog. What I really want to say is: I don’t want a TV-version of the two Angels-movies. I think, they lacked class compared to the original series. And they lacked Kate Jackson. I am also a little doubtful about the value of a done-over TV-concept. Why not try something new instead?

And while we are at it: where is the “Cagney & Lacey” movie I have been waiting for so long… and the “Wonder Woman” movie. If you want to recycle old why not start there? I am also still waiting for a “Xena” movie… but don’t try to do it without Lucy and Renée, ’cause we won’t stand for it… I am going to blog on “Xena” one of these days, by the way… there is still so much to say…

Okay, leaving you to think about your all time-favorite shows now…

I Want a Justice System to Protect ME, not the Perverts 

Dear Honourable Judge Low,

i know its not only me who noticed the newest reoccurring trend. oh Lucy Lawless, you are forever an inspiration and set the bar for all bad ass women everywhere.  long-dark hair (check), bangs (check), femme fatale look (completed).

warrior princesses til we die – ah yiyiyiyiyiyiyyyiiyiyii!!!!

Lucy Lawless (Xena: Warrior Princess)

Eve Myles (Gwen Cooper of Torchwood [BBC])

Amanda Tapping (Dr. Helen Magnus of Sanctuary [SyFy])

Angelina Jolie (Evelyn Salt in Salt [Sony])

Chapter 1: Enter Neil

“The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all who cause others to sin and all evildoers.”
Matthew 13:41


  Cold chaos fogged the air with apocalyptic rumors of the new century, but Neil’s windows trapped in the heartening heat. Luminous fingertips emitted from the fireplace and touched the small collection of football trophies and academic awards proudly placed above the fire. Though Christmas had just recently passed, there was neither tree nor stocking hung; there had been no ceramic snowmen or toy train sets. Only burnt out Christmas lights sat sadly in the trash. Neatly framed and hung newspaper clippings and diplomas jacketed the bricks that built every wall in this living room.
The sound of a small television echoed through this condominium. Its gentle voice crawled across the brick walls of the living room slicing through the silence and led straight into the kitchen. A small white television on top of a dark oak counter, beside an exhausted coffee machine, presented the news. The voice of the reporter cracked through the staleness of the airless apartment but did not rift into the mind of Neil Maillen.
 He sat alone above a plate of piping hot  microwaved lasagna and glanced at the empty chair beside him. Taking a deep breath the smell filled him and pushed a wave of his chestnut brown hair from his dark eyes and dust-colored face. Neil hadn’t eaten much of his T.V. dinner. He poked at it several times with his fork, flirting with the long white tendrils of steam that danced before him like a snake. A heavy stone sat in Neil’s stomach for a while now. It was the lingering feeling that something pivotal was about to happen. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he had been feeling this way, but here he sat January 10th, feeling the same way he had for a while now—nervous, paranoid and anxious.
 Standing he pushed those feelings away and walked into the living room sinking into the  centered brown leather couch. Neil had done fairly well for himself. Above the fireplace were awards that he had received in college as a football player and awards that he had obtained more recently as a writer. All around the room, hung his most prominent articles written for a local magazine called Vivacity. Neil was young very successful and proud of that success because he worked very hard to get it. The green eyes of those older and less lucrative resented him but besides the award-winning articles was an invisible frame that held the pride that came with outshining those who doubted him.
 Neil was a man with a set of strong and dynamic eyebrows that demanded respect for the story that they told. Black-brown and heavy, his eyebrows told of his accomplishment and struggle. He sat back and untied his expensive designer tie. Image and success was very important to Neil, so he always dressed professionally and the clothes fit nicely around his tall athletic build. He liked to wear solid colors, and expensive fabrics, he was young and needed to dress respectably.
Growing up Neil was raised by middle-class parents with strong religious morals and faiths that they pressed upon their loving child. When he was 14, Neil had been diagnosed with the chicken poxes and had to stay home from church. That was the Sunday that his church had burned down, trapping and killing both his parents inside. Neil hadn’t picked up a Bible since. From then, he lived alone, scraping by on earnings he had made as a cashier at a local grocery store, eventually working his way through college earning a degree in journalism and thereby securing himself a job as a journalist.

Neil picked up a glass of red wine that stood on a wooden table end and placed it to his lips then lifted a pen and pad of paper. Running his fingers across the brown peach fuzz above his lip and the neat, hardly-there beard on his chin, he gazed at his notebook.

 Tomorrow, Neil was interviewing an actor but tonight, the fear of something coming was stronger than ever. Unable to think of a single question for the actor, he filled his barrel chest with dead air as he relaxed. He knew he could write a great article regardless, but he always preferred to be prepared.
“Neil! Get your ass down here!” following the voice Neil walked to the window and beheld the giant red moon that appeared strangely larger than usual. He recognized the voice and the long blonde hair of his ex-girlfriend as she stuck her head out of her car window and slammed her fist on the car horn. “It’s time!”
 It seemed like Rhea, Neil’s college girlfriend, had been pregnant forever. He often wondered why they had broken up. The love between a college football player and a cheerleader was written in the stars, but Rhea had often complained that Neil hadn’t spent enough time paying attention to her and, frankly, she was right. Once they graduated, he had been so deeply involved in his work that Rhea was left bitter, resentful, and pregnant. The two soon split, holding nothing but an unborn child between them.
 She slid over into the passenger’s seat as Neil jumped into the car. Lifting a thick black eyebrow, he asked, “How did you do this by yourself?”
 Rhea’s blue eyes were arrows as she spat, “None of your damn business! Now drive the damn car!”

As Neil pressed his foot on the gas, he realized how Rhea had changed since their breakup. Grunting slightly, he drove over the speed limit, confident that he would hit nothing as he headed to the hospital. A bead of sweat trickled down Neil’s face as his concentration began to wane. His skin felt warmer as a headache, accompanied by a distant staticy sound, entered his mind. Then he heard Rhea’s voice, “God the baby is coming now! I wish Neil would hurry up!”
         Rhea was in labor, he knew, but his patience for her had run slim. He gave her another wicked glance, and then looked back at the road. “I’m going as fast as I can. It would help if you would be quiet!”
  
      “I didn’t say shit to you!” Rhea panted as sweat melted on her cheeks. Her hands grabbed the sides of her stomach and her light eyes met his.
 
       “Oh yeah, right, I heard you,” Neil spat, turning a sharp corner.

        “What the hell is wrong with him?” Rhea thought.

        “Nothing is wrong with me,” he grunted. “I just wanna concentrate on the road.”
 
       “Then fucking concentrate! What are you talking about?” Rhea shouted.

 “What do you mean?” His voice creaking slightly as they entered the hospital parking lot. Lungs full of hot air, he quickly jumped out of the car and opened the passenger side door, helping Rhea out. Holding the enlarged stomach of his past girlfriend, Neil ran into the hospital lobby.
As the doctors lifted Rhea onto a bed a young nurse pressing a hand on Neil’s chest stopping him from following her, “Sir, are you the father?”
Beads of sweat melted on Neil’s face, “Y-yes…”
The red headed nurse then curled a string of red hair around her finger. “Okay, a little greasy… but still kinda cute…”
“Do you have your insurance card? I’m going to need you to fill out some paper work. You can see your girlfriend soon…” she stressed the word.
Placing a hand on his wet forehead Neil closed his eyes. He tried to focus his thoughts, but his temples pounded too strongly around his raising fever. Through his dilheuium, he nodded and grabbed the clipboard from her.
Heavily Neil fell to his seat, exhaling a hot breath of exhaustion and dizziness.
“Why don’t you just hurry up and die you old bastard, I’m sorry Dad, but I just can’t afford these weekly visits to the hospital! I have too many bills! Bills that you crocking could help fix! Boy, I’d be on easy … Wow, that guy doesn’t look so good.”
Struggling to hold the clipboard between his hands Neil looked over towards the young man as he pushed his wheel chaired father to the front desk.
“You okay buddy?” he asked. Neil nodded. “Please,” the man smiled painfully, “do everything you can.”
What was going on? Neil swallowed hard. What were these voices in his head? Why was he feeling so sick all of a sudden? Staticy bursts exploded in his mind as he struggled to read the pages before him.
“DUMB ASS BITCH PAY ATTENTION WHEN I TALK TO YOU BEFORE I KICK YOU IN THE NUTS!”
Neil looked up to the small blonde girl standing before him. Smiling she tilted her head and held a box of candy bars before her. “Hi sir, would you like to buy a candy bar?” Quickly, Neil fought through his queasiness, fished a dollar from his shorts and bought himself a candy bar.
Rhea gave a hoarse, dry scream, her eyes narrowing into a complete line and her mouth showing all of her teeth. Neil grasped her hand and let her squeeze as tightly as she needed. Dr. Sommers, smiled brightly and coached Rhea in her breathing.
 Neil’s fever had grown stronger. His headache pounded more intensely and he closed his eyes. Reopening them to a blurred image of the room and a weak body. Neil fell to the ground.

Brown eyes flicked in the fluorescent light above him as he awoke several moments later. He was still in the hospital.

 “I hope Alex remembered to get milk.”
 
The sound entered Neil’s ear banging slightly on his temples.
 
       “What?” He asked.

        “Nothing…” The nurse spoke, entering the room, and pulling some earphones from her ears. “You’re up…?” 
 Neil shook his head slowly, aware of the remote battering inside of him. “No, I heard you,” he said. “Something about milk.”

The nurse backed up, but then smiled. “Did I say that out loud? I guess you would like to see your baby now?” she asked. “Don’t worry, lots of fathers faint at the sight of birth. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Hmph,” Neil huffed, leaning over towards the glass of water, embarrassed of his own shortcoming. “Yeah, right.” He muttered as the nurse left the room.

“It’s a boy” the nurse smiled returning later, handing the child over into Neil’s arms. The baby had a head full of brown-black hair, like his father, and his face expressed in a pinkish glow.
                                  
               …


Abruptly Neil woke up to a shrieking alarm clock. It was set to 7:00. “Great, three hours of sleep.” he muttered throwing over his white bed sheets and sitting onside of his bed for a few seconds. Recapping the night before Neil realized he prepared no questions for the actor but was forced the panic away with confidence. This interview was too important to miss and he would do a great job.
Neil was driving over the speed limit. Every time he tried to slow down, he’d lose track and begin speeding again. Like every other day, Neil stopped at a fast food restaurant. He threw an old coffee-stained paper cup to the bottom of his blue jeep, an area that was full of other discarded cups, wrappings and a yellow crowbar. Neil drove up to the window and a pimple-faced teenager was there to greet him. “May I take your order, sir?”
  He sighed, “Just a medium coffee.”

“A dollar ninety-eight,” the youth said, his voice nearly cracking.

 Neil snagged a dollar and a handful of change from his pocket. The teenager brought over a paper cup filled to the top with coffee. Slowly, trying to keep his balance, he reached the window and leaned out holding the coffee far away from his body. Before Neil could grab the coffee, it spilled. Steaming liquid burnt Neil’s knees and stained the passenger seat.

 “This is Versace!” Neil yelled. An intense feeling erupted within him; a feeling that pulled at each part of his body at the same time, pounded a loud thud in his head; and feeling that telekinetically sent the yellow crowbar in the passenger’s seat through the passenger window of his car without a touch.

La’Von Gittens
NoV’al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 2: I’m Aurora

“And he will send out his angels with a trumpet blast, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other”
Matthew 24:31

Her slender body moved uncomfortably beneath the designer bedspread as the telephone blared once again. Exhaustedly, she directed the message to the answering machine.
  “Aurora! This is your mother calling again!” The voice boomed from the machine. “I know you left on bad terms but I am still your mother and you need to return my phone calls! After all that your father and I gave to you, how dare you still disrespect us? If you think you’re an adult and have control over your life you’re completely wrong! There are certain responsibilities that you will hold up to because you are part of this family! Aurora, you will call me back, you will move back home and you will get married! End of story! ” The message ended. Bringing the total to 19.
Behind her white floral eye mask Aurora’s eyes opened in burning wrath. “How did you get my number? Go to bed you old crabby bitch!” Aurora screamed. Turning uncomfortably, she reminded herself that tonight’s rest was essential for work the next day.  To be photographed, she needed to be up and at the Five Star Arts and Entertainment building very early. Of all the photographs she had taken, this was most important for her modeling career and she needed to look flawless. Aurora sighed heavily, brushing her hand up and smearing her guacamole face mask across her fingers and her white bedsheets.
“Damn it to hell!” She screamed. Ripping off her nightshade, Aurora stomped into her bathroom. Her full lips thinned in anger as she swung open the cabinet door and reapplied her facemask. 
        Even with her face caked in green sludge Aurora was stunning. Her skin was a deep and beautiful ebony, her dark hair was straight and just below shoulder length, and her eyes a piercing copper brown. Aurora’s beauty lived through her eyes, as her right was bejeweled with a small black beauty mark resting just beneath it.
Knowing that she was beautiful she decided to go with her strength as a college dropout. Aurora Haith modeled for a year and a half now. Though her parents had suggested she follow their example and pursue a more intellectual career, she declined and left Canada without a word to them or her fiancé. She preferred their ignorance about where she was going or what she was doing. Used to finer living, separated from her parents– Aurora was forced to live frugally. The taste of elegance wet her tongue, though, and she was always willing to splurge.
Her dainty feet flittered across her fluffy white carpet, then the white tiles of her kitchen. Aurora’s apartment was small but her modern style expressed her flamboyance and elegance. With a clean white color theme, the living room was decorated with vases, paintings of African art, and glass tables. The center piece of the room had been a blown up semi nude photograph of Aurora covering her body—earlier work she favored. Most of what was in her apartment was what she stole from her affluent parents and loveless fiancé.  She lived alone, distant from her family and too ambitious for friends.  
 Searching through a refrigerator full of health food, Aurora grabbed a bottle of distilled water as a cold, tight, tremor ran down her spine. Then, more intensely it hit her again. Rendered lightheaded, Aurora placed the bottle on the marble counter. Then again.
Like she was struck by lightning– she straightened out her back in pain. Her arms slapped to her sides and her fingers broadened. Her head jerked upward and her mouth yanked opened.  The pain was so great it froze her in a stunned silence. Something was running through her. Eyes dilating, another striking pain entered her skull. Before her eyes, visions trampled through Aurora’s head.
Hundreds of people ran the streets of a scoured Manhattan. Descended from a black sky, puddles of blood housed broken glass and debris. “God is dead!”, “He lives again!”, “Save yourself and die!” were written on desolate walls by the hopeless. People were rioting, screaming and fighting each other in bloody primordial war. Tanks and police cars raided the streets as natives were shot down, beaten and killed. Chaotically, images flashed before Aurora’s eyes. Men were burned. Humans were caged like animals. Winged beasts came from the sky, the earth and the water attacking and eating the people that ran the streets. Strange beasts threw men and women in the streets and defiled them. Unnatural sex ripped open and violated bodies and the lucky had died quickly. The others however, were left with enough vigor to watch their mutilated remains crush under the rushing riot. All were one in the eyes of the beasts—regardless of race, gender, or age.
A sour taste entered Aurora’s mouth while vision after vision hit her brain. The corner of her eyes remained open in shock as a red tear rolled down her face while the movie played inside her. It was powerful, definite and immense; Aurora’s fingers arched until her hands hurt. There was more coming. She could feel it and this time she could scream as blood ran down her face in tears.
A hooded man riding a white horse in the empty streets of Manhattan fired an arrow between the eyes of a tall brown-haired man. He fell lifelessly to the ground. Aurora stood not too far from the dead man as a second hooded man in red rode upon his red horse decapitated her with a small sword. A third man, young with curly black hair, fell quickly to the sword of a third rider in yellow. Then a blonde woman was chased down and turned to ash, disintegrated by means of a pearl, unbalanced scale.
Aurora fainted, bashing her head into the countertop as the foggy edges of the omen faded. She fell to the floor, her face covered in guacamole and blood.
Several hours later, consciousness entered Aurora’s body like an earthquake. She glared around, still breathing heavily. Everything seemed normal and nothing was out of place. The white microwave’s clock read 5:39, she had to be out of the house in 3 hours, which she knew barely gave her enough time to get ready. Pressing play on her stereo and walking to the bathroom Aurora listened to her own voice booming through the apartment as she did every morning.
“Good morning Aurora!” Her voice played on the CD. “Today is going to be a great day because you’re here to live it! Now its time to dazzle everyone with your charisma, grace and charm! People will be attracted to your positive energy! Aurora can if she believes she can!”
 Glancing into her bathroom mirror she looked back at herself covered in green and red. Aurora wiped the blood and guacamole from her face—nothing was going to stop her from taking those pictures, especially not some sleepwalking, crazy dream. Pulling her hair from her face Aurora smiled and spoke in unison with the CD. “Aurora, you are beautiful!”
Although she thought it pedestrian Aurora rode the train. A black designer skirt hugged her hips and chest tightly as she sat. Brown heels with large hoop earrings, matched her large leather purse and jacket. A disheveled man entered the almost empty traincar as she pulled out a magazine. She flipped through the pages studying the women in them when a nauseating smell flew up her nostrils. “Can I have a dollar?”
Her heart pounded, looking back down into her magazine she spoke,“ ‘Can I have a dollar?’ Wow. I wish it were that easy, but I have to work for my living. Why don’t you learn to do the same?”
The man looked down at her, holding the standing pole. Anger erupted within his body. “Can I have a dollar!” he demanded. 
 Aurora clenched her fist and closed her magazine, looking away from the man. “No, you can’t… Get out of here…”
The man growled as he grabbed the purse from Aurora’s tight hold. Using all her strength, she screeched before she kicked the man in the groin, pushing him to the dark blue bench across from her. She started towards the door connecting to the other train car. But before she had a chance to open it, he slammed her up against the wall.
 “Stop!” Aurora could feel all of her energy rush to her eyes—as if filling with boiling water. The man watched in awe as her pupils turned red.
 She felt like a heavy burden lifted from her as clear energy rippled from her body. It was as if the lights went out. Everything was still visible, just in a darker tint. The air was thick and electric. Aurora felt like she was breathing static.
The man stood there, not moving a single muscle. Aurora cocked an eyebrow, he was immobilized. White light rose off him like smoke. Biting her top lip, she squeezed pass the man and hurried to the other side of the train.
 Taking a deep breath as the sour taste of fear enter her mouth she glanced around the frozen train car for a moment. It was sudden but Aurora regained a burden on her body as the lights returned to normal. The train was moving and everything was its original color.
“Where did she…?” The man turned, no longer in his smoky white case. Falling into a fetal position, he began to whisper to himself things Aurora didn’t care to know. The train doors wheeled open and without hesitation, she ducked out. It must have been a tunnel, she told herself. Aurora took a cab to her shoot.
 Compared to her usual half-an-hour early arrivals, she was late. She entered the huge building made of glass and iron, completely ignoring the guards that protected it. On the elevator she pushed for the 5th floor and snarled as it continued upward.
“Why does everything always have to happen to me?” She stomped her feet as the elevator continued to the 13th floor. “Great,” Aurora muttered, walking off the elevator and pressing the down button. Pulling out her makeup, she began to reapply.
Just then a deep voice sounded behind her. “Excuse me, Ms…”
Aurora turned to see a young man standing before her. It was the man from her vision last night. Her chestnut eyes looked Neil up and down. Her hand slipped over her mouth and she stepped back a few steps.
“Do you know where room thirteen-o-five is?” Neil’s voice waved in confusion to her reactions.
Strokes of fear ran through her body and her heart jolted. “Do I look like I know where Thirteen-o-five is?” Aurora paused for a moment. Turning her head, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I said I don’t know where it is so I don’t see why you’re still standing here.”
 Neil frowned. “Okay, if you don’t know where it is…”
“I said I don’t!”  she snarled before turning away from him completely. “Damn it, I can’t deal with weird horses and dead people today, I still haven’t had my coffee! And I swear if people start dying, I am done. Done!”
“Whoa…what?” he gave a nervous smile, his adrenaline beginning to pump. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Dead people?”
Aurora’s eyes thinned as she stared him down. Neil’s adrenaline began pumping hard in his veins as a chair gently rolled over his side, all on its own.  “Ew!” Aurora lifted her hand and started towards the staircase.
 It was the second object Neil had moved that day. Flabbergasted, he followed grabbing her shoulder.
“Wait!”  Aurora turned and smacked him in the face before spinning on her heel and walking towards the staircase.
“Nice!” someone shouted.
“Stop!” Neil screamed as Aurora turned to him.
 Large brown irises coated themselves in crimson. It was happening again. Aurora exhaled as energy was pulled from her and the room became darker. Everyone that stood in the room had froze, bathed in a white smokey light. She pushed herself against the wall and slid to the ground. “Why does this keep happening to me?”
“Something tells me,” Neil stood before her. “it’s not all about you.”
Aurora looked up to him sniffling and shaking, “You’re not frozen? W-why does this keep happening?”
“Looks like we both had eventful morning…” Neil examined the frozen bodies covered in the glowing cloud. “I think you actually froze time. How long does this last?” He sat down beside her.
 “I-I don’t know,” Aurora wiped her eye with her coat. “Why does this keep happening? I can’t stop it…”
“If you’re really the one that did it you should be able to stop it…” He put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her from shaking. “Relax, breathe, and just do what you did before.” Neil took hold of her hand.
 Aurora placed a shivering hand on her forehead. Taking a deep breath her eyes returned to normal and the room began moving again.
“See, every thing’s okay.” Neil reassured her.
“Is that why I saw you die last night?” Aurora sighed.

La’Von Gittens
NoV’al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 3: Cross the threshold Ezekiel Wallace

“And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, approached, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it,”
Matthew 28:2

Ezekiel David Wallace stood before his front door, as he often did, his eyes glancing over the crooked and tarnished 4E nailed there. It was 10:30 he had just finished working a late shift at a Pizza Palace. Sighing he placed the key in the door and walked into kitchen. A thick layer of grime corroded the discolored apartment. Entering the cramped kitchen, he walked across brown tiles that got browner every day and passed his father.
 Fred Wallace sat at a small plastic blue table in a wooden chair. He wore a tight stained wife beater. The balding man looked over at Ezekiel with a grimace and a beer in his hand.

“You’re two hours late!” the man screamed.

 Ezekiel turned with a sigh. “I’m sorry; I thought I told you that I was going to work a late shift.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me!” Fred frowned. “Lies! Where’s this months rent?”
 
 Ezekiel shook his head, “Dad, I’ll pay you as soon as my check comes in, okay?”
  His voice was almost a whisper, “My boss said it should be in this week.”

 “This week?! This week?!” Fred screamed at the top of his lungs.

 “Are you talking back to your father?” Lauren questioned as she entered the room, her hair disheveled and her clothes loosely clung to her weak sick body.

  “No…” Ezekiel turned to her. “Mom, could you please go lay down before you get dizzy?”

“Listen,” Fred screamed behind Ezekiel. “I don’t need help raising my own son!”

 Ezekiel’s eyes enlarged as he turned back to his father, “You don’t have to speak to her like that…”

 “I swear, if I have to get up out of this fucking chair!” Fred yelled slamming his beer can on the table.
 Ezekiel bit his lower lip and wanted to vomit, “Okay.”

Taut, Ezekiel walked into his room and gently closed his door. He sat in the same bed he’s had all his life, and held the back of his head with both hands. Looking at himself in the mirror he watched as tears rushed down his cheeks. His eyes were almost black, large and wet. His hair grew in large thick black curls and extended an inch above his cinnamon-colored face. He was small framed and had youthful sadness about him. Pulling the sleeves of his recycled sweater over his hands he closed his eyes in ritual.
Ezekiel always wore old long sleeved shirts, sometimes in layers but mostly in dark earth tone colors. Breathing and calming down, he couldn’t remember the last time he had bought something for himself, except for art supplies. Most of his money had gone to either rent or to help pay for the doctors to treat his mother’s unknown illness.
   
 He was angry, of course, but he understood the dynamic of his home. He understood his father was bitter and angry because his wife was sickly– his mother was bitter and angry because his father was bitter and angry. So he knew he couldn’t move out.  If he didn’t take care of his mother, who would?

        The walls of Ezekiel’s room were covered in his paintings, sketches, and drawings. Pictures of fields, birds, skies and oceans reminded him that a great world existed outside this apartment. Thumbing through his drawing pad, Ezekiel came across a picture of violets he had drawn earlier that week. His mother loved violets and he forgot to give her the picture. Sighing heavily, he ripped the picture from his pad and walked to his mother’s room. 
        His mother was lying awake in bed pulling her thick hair back into bun as he knocked. She looked up to him as he entered the room and frowned. “Yes…” she said restlessly.

 “Oh, um, I j-just remembered. I…” Ezekiel paused. “I drew you a picture the other day. I saw some violets and I-I know you like them. I couldn’t buy them, so I did the next best thing. I drew you a picture.”

Lauren looked up to her son, “Thank you, could you leave it on the dresser?”

Ezekiel nodded and did as he was told. “I’m…” he paused awkwardly. “I’m going to start on the dishes.”
        Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the sink full of dirty dishes and began washing them.  He looked towards the refrigerator and noticed a flyer, the lead singer of his favorite band, R.I.P, was going to be in Manhattan tomorrow. He had to see him. Finishing off the dishes, he got into bed, closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.


 
       A cold clammy bitter impression polished Ezekiel’s cheek as he slept. Hovering above his face was a white cloud with two evident gray circles, like eyes on its tadpole-like body. Ezekiel leapt out of his bed. Several figures floated all around his room and within seconds, they all faded. Sour liquid entered his mouth as he ran out of his room, slamming the door behind.

A cloud faded into the living room, pushing the small television off its stand, then parting, disappearing into the darkness. Ezekiel screamed as his parents came rushing in.

“Is everything alright?” Lauren asked.

Ezekiel relaxed, looking at his mother. “I-I d-don’t know. Mom, I t-think I’m seeing ghosts or something.”
        “Looks like he finally lost it,” his father decided to add.

“I don’t know, m-maybe…I guess?” Ezekiel narrowed his eyes at his father and sauntered to the fridge. “I’m getting a glass of water,” he sighed. “does anyone want anything to drink?”

“I’d rather go to bed.” His mother sighed as she walked back into her room.

 “You owe us for a new television,” Fred said, following his wife.

Refusing to return to his room, Ezekiel laid on the couch, awake. His eyes remained open in constant surveillance but only after a few hours eventually closed.
 Sunshine trickled through the blinds and Ezekiel’s eyes flickered. The kitchen clock read 7:16. Running to the bathroom he threw on his clothes and dressed as usual, long-sleeved white sweater and black jeans. At the bus stop, Ezekiel fished into his pockets for change.

  He checked the street for an oncoming bus but saw a crowded street full of cars and people. Reminded of his hatred for the city Ezekiel noticed a figure rise across the horizon. It could have been a truck or his bus, he couldn’t tell from his distance. In his struggling gaze he suddenly felt a bubbling eruption in his chest.

Ezekiel was standing at the horizon and watching the number 38 bus pass him. How did he get down here? Turning as the bus passed him, he found himself standing right where he was before, the bus pulling up before him.
 “Fred was right… I am losing my mind…” He entered as the bus pulled away.

The Arts and Entertainment complex was a gigantic building made of blue glass and steel. It gave off a clean smell that soothed him. The front desk was guarded by a bulky man dressed in a black suit and dark shades. Relaxation melted away from Ezekiel as he took a deep breath and pulled his sleeves over his hands.

“I.D….” the man said in a deep intimidating voice.

An ID card. Ezekiel forgot that he needed one. “I.D.? I’m sorry. N-n-no one t-t-told me to bring it…I, ah…left it at home?”

“Outside…” the man said.
 “Come on, give me a break. I really need to get in there. S-see, my m-mother forgot her keys at home and I just need to bring them to her.” Ezekiel smirked tensely. He was a bad liar, but it seemed to be enough to fool the man.

Sighing, the guard nodded. “Hurry up…”
 With a burst of excitement, Ezekiel ran to the elevator. He pressed the top button and waited for one of the many doors to open jumping into the first one that did.

“Hold it!” A blonde haired woman holding several bags ran up to the elevator. “Thirteen please…” she beamed.
 Ezekiel pressed the button, “Hi, yeah, do you know where they’ll be shooting the Michael Barron movie?”

 “Absolutely positively! The same place I’m going, the thirteenth floor,” she put down her bags. “You know, the number thirteen gets a bad rep, but I don’t think it’s that bad. I mean, it’s only one more than twelve and good things come in twelves. And have you ever heard of a Bakers dozen? That’s like thirteen cookies. And what sick individual would have a problem with thirteen cookies? I mean unless you’re on a diet… or have diabetes…I suppose… but there are always sugarless cookies! But I digress!” The woman lifted a finger and pointed towards the bags on the ground. “That’s food.”

Looking through the slits of his eyes he watched as she failed to discretely pull out a wedgie. When the elevator stopped, she picked up her bags and started out, “See you later, you cutie! Come by my stand while you’re here.” A huge, almost frightening smile crossed her face, showing all of her white teeth, “Free food. Everybody loves free food!”

The halls were crowded and it was hard for Ezekiel to make out each individual. Nonetheless, it was clear enough for him to see this thin woman slap a man across the face.
“Nice!” he said, commenting on her blow, laughing to himself.
Ezekiel began to feel light headed. Something was bubbling up in his chest. The bathroom. There he saw Neil, crouched up against the door of a stall. A stream of water slowly floated from the sink in a long levitating stream and splashed against the wall. Neil looked up harshly at Ezekiel as the floating stream of water fell to the ground.
 “Oh m-my god…” Ezekiel muttered, shaken.

Neil stood up and walked over to Ezekiel. He lifted him up and slammed him into the wall. “How did you do that?” he spat before Ezekiel faded through his grasp and the bathroom wall.
 He rushed down the hallway and to the elevator. Frantically the tried to press the button as his fingers slid through the wall.

La’Von Gittens
NoV’al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 4: Welcome Amanda Steward
“But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
Mark 13:32

Amanda smiled her trademark toothy, overly ecstatic smile. She shrugged her shoulders nervously in her baby blue gown and inched to the edge of her chair. Amanda looked over to Emmanuel with large blue eyes. He thought she looked stunning tonight. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight bun with a large white flower bonnet, her makeup flawlessly covered her face as her blue dress impeccably covered her body. He watched as she grabbed her drink, nails colored to match her dress.
   
     Trying not to blush too hard she gazed at her boyfriend of 2 years. The dim lights shaded the room in an amorous blanket; lit candles were placed sporadically and ferns added to the elegance of the restaurant.
 Emmanuel looked back at her,“So I said to him, ‘I’m not doing that! That’s not my job!’ and he just walked away without a single word.”
 Clapping her hands joyfully she smiled, “Finally! He was a creep, anyway! You should have been ruder. You should have just done as I told you.”

“What?” Emmanuel asked. “Call his mother?”

Amanda laughed, “I mean it would have worked. He wouldn’t be pushing you around anymore. But I’m glad that you stood up to him. I’m so proud!”

Emmanuel looked at her for a moment and said nothing, only soaked in her beauty and amiability. Breaking the moment, he smiled. “And I’m very proud of you too.”

“What did I do?” she asked.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Emmanuel shook his head. “I got you something.”

  Amanda’s heart dropped into her stomach as Emmanuel reached into his pocket. Had he finally noticed the more-than-obvious hints that she had been dropping? Was he finally going to ask her to marry him? Amanda’s body tensed; she couldn’t breathe. A sour taste boiled up in her mouth as her eyes grew large and wet. Her blue nails arched at the white tablecloth as Emmanuel pulled a large box from his pocket.

It was a slightly large box for a ring, Amanda thought, but didn’t care as she brought the box closer to her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she flipped open the box. Dropping her jaw, tears bundled up at the corner of her eyes. Inside the box was a large diamond ring, sitting on crinkled white paper. It had been the same exact ring Amanda had been dreaming about ever since she saw it in a catalog a few days earlier. She was breathless. It was so perfect her body was trembling. Her lips pinched themselves together as she tried to keep her composure.
“Yes…”

Emmanuel smiled.

“Yes. Yes! YES!” Amanda repeated as she cried. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” With those words, she leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Emmanuel, sitting on his lap. Amanda forced kisses onto his lips as he pulled away slightly.

Looking over to her with a raised eyebrow he frowned, “Amanda…. What are you talking about? I just gave you a necklace…”

Looking back she was breathless again. “No. No, you gave me a wedding ring.” Amanda turned and reached for the box holding it open, exposing the ring. “That’s a wedding ring, Emmanuel,” Amanda’s voice suddenly became stern.

“I bought you a necklace…” Emmanuel began.
 “No, you bought me a wedding ring!” Amanda slammed the box on the table as she stood from Emmanuel’s lap. “Do you think that’s funny?”

 “Amanda…” He tried to get his words out.

“So what are you trying to say, you don’t want to marry me?” She shook her head. “So you buy me a wedding ring but you don’t want to marry me! That is sick. Just sick!”

“Amanda!” He repeated. “The jeweler must have made a mistake and put the ring in there!”

 “No,” Shaking her head she threw her pocketbook over her shoulders. “I think you made the mistake… Or maybe I made the mistake… I mean. Somebody here made a mistake and it wasn’t the jeweler! This whole thing is a big mistake!”

She stomped home, ignoring Emmanuel’s repeated calls. Slamming the door behind her, Amanda’s fingers arched as she grabbed her forehead and screamed at the top of her lungs.
 
       The apartment was average size and filled with completely random items, mostly things she had appropriated from her college dorm room. There were Barbie dolls, a large purple clock in the shape of a cat, a dying cactus at the windowsill, moldings of sculptures she had made in class, and a bookshelf. Her apartment looked like a garage sale.

 A tall redhead walked out into the living room and stood before the plastic green couch, turning towards her roommate. “Mandy…baby, what happened?”

Christine crawled up beside Amanda, squeezing into the chair with her. Amanda lifted her wet face from her hands and threw them around Christine. “Oh my goodness, Christine. Emmanuel just did something really mean!”
 “Men, I should have known. The pseudo backbone to every society. What’d that egotistical, condescending, thinks-he’s-all-that-because-he-has-a-flap-of-skin-between-his-legs do? And baby, where is your coat?” Christine asked.

Amanda’s face became blank, as though she had just become suddenly aware. Plainly, she parted her pink lips to speak, her expression unchanging. “I must have left it in the restaurant. I thought it was a little cold outside…”

“Aw…” Christine rubbed her shoulders. “What happened?”

 “Stupid Emmanuel!” Amanda clawed her hands. “He makes this whole big deal like he’s gonna give me something and he does. I open it and it’s a freaking wedding ring! So I start screaming like a psychopath ‘Yes! Yes! Yes, I’ll marry the fudge out of you!’ And he’s like ‘Um…what are you talking about? I didn’t give you a ring, I gave you a necklace. Are you crazy? Blah blah blah.’ Is that supposed to be funny, Christine? Because it’s not!” Amanda hyperventilated and struggled to control her breathing.
 
       “No sweetie, it’s not.” Christine frowned. 

        “See! We’re not the crazy ones here!” Amanda threw up her arms. “You know it’s not funny. I know it’s not funny. The American people know it’s not funny!” Sighing heavily she ripped the clip from her hair and released the long blonde locks that curved around her shoulders.

  
      “I just…” Amanda paused. “I just wish some times I knew what he was thinking, you know? I just wish I could get inside of his head and shake things up a bit and be like, ‘You want me. I know you do!’ Gosh, I just would like…like I could just… I mean if I was him I would want me, you know? I’m good! I mean I just wanna… I wish I could just….”
   
     As the words left her mouth, Amanda could feel energy rise within her. Her skin was crawling, like tiny fingers pushing beneath her skin. Christine watched wide-eyed as Amanda began to change. Though an artist was repainting her, smoothly, Amanda’s skin, hair, and features gracefully shifted naturally.
        Within a few moments, Amanda sat in the very same chair, a little taller, a little darker. She sat as Emmanuel, hair and muscles bulging out of her blue dress. Christine fell back, falling from the chair and inching herself backwards until she hit the plastic green couch. Amanda looked over to Christine and spoke in her boyfriend’s voice. “What?”
  
      “Oh my God!” Christine spat before she stood and charged out of the front door, leaving it open behind her.
    
    Amanda stood to follow Christine, but the seams of her dress ripped at its sides. She looked over her body, now hairy, taller, and manlier. She ran to the bathroom. The face in the mirror had not been her own.  It only lasted a few seconds as her body tingled and she returned to normal.

        She sat there, on the cold yellow tiles of the bathroom floor with her fingers in her wild blonde hair and her blue dress torn in several places. Surrounded by a white picket fence in Staten Island Amanda was raised by strict Christian parents. Her family’s beliefs followed her all her life. A small bathroom prayer craft hung just above the bathroom mirror. God must have temporarily changed her. It must have been God teaching her a lesson for acting up in the restaurant. What else could it have been?

    After hours of sitting on the bathroom floor, Amanda repeatedly and unsuccessfully called Christine but quit after several tries. She needed to speak to someone.

        “Hello?” his voice cool and calm.

         Amanda knew he was upset; by the ring in his voice. “Sorry for being crazy…” she apologized immediately.
  
       Emmanuel paused for a moment, “I’m sorry, too. The jeweler must have switched the jewelry by mistake. You can keep the ring if you want.”
   
     “No,” Amanda answered quickly. “You should return it.”
  
      “Are you sure?”” Emmanuel asked.

       Amanda watched her cat, Catlin, jump from the couch and scurry across the room. “Yes, I’m sure, but there is something I have to ask you before we move on from this. It’s something that I’ve been wondering for the past few hours and it’s really been bothering me…”

        “What?” Emmanuel sighed.
  
        “Do you have my coat?” she asked.
 
        Emmanuel laughed loudly as Amanda joined him. “Yes, I have your coat.”
 
       “Good! It’s just that it’s my favorite one and I got it while I was in Boston and I don’t see myself going back there any time soon!” she laughed.
     
   Amanda awoke the next morning, rushing over to Christine’s room.  The door was wide open and it was empty. Christine had not come home that night. Getting dressed Amanda wore a baby-blue shirt with a huge smiling cartoon kitten on the front, form fitting blue jeans with flowers in the stitching and a butterfly necklace covered in rhinestones and fake gems. Within 10 minutes she was driving her green company jeep. Chefy’s was in a brick building and it only took up one floor. She walked in, eyeing twelve tables, covered in a white sheets and a small plants. Collecting her platters of meat and cheese Amanda rushed off to her appointment.

          “Em!” she squealed as she rushed to the elevator. “Hold it!” Inside was a man with curly black hair. “Thirteen, please,” she said placing her bags on the floor.
 
      He pressed the button. “Hi, yeah, do you know where they’re shooting the new Michael Barron movie?” the skinny boy asked, pulling his long white sleeves over his fingers.
        “Yeah, same place I’m going thirteenth floor,” she told him. He turned his direction to the glowing numbers above them. Amanda took advantage of this time to pull out a wedgie, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

        When she got to the thirteenth floor, she bid him departure and set up her stand. She picked an area in a hallway where a table was already prepared with a white tablecloth. Opening her bag she placed a black plastic tray of cheese onto the surface. Amanda opened a pack of napkins, folded them, and placed them about the table. Her job was done. “I’m exhausted.” she frowned. Just then, she saw the scrawny man from the elevator walk past her.
 
       “Hey!” she yelled. He looked a bit preoccupied, but that didn’t stop her. She walked straight up to him and tapped him on the shoulder and he plummeted to the floor. He had fallen into her table of food, knocking over everything. The crowd gasped as Amanda kneeled next to him, trying to wake him up. Failed attempt after failed attempt, she settled on calling the hospital. She pushed past the huddling crowd to an empty and clear space where she could get a signal. Picking up the phone, she began to dial when she saw the boy standing before the elevator fading in and out of transparency like a ghost.

        “T-This is i-impossible…” his voice was garbled as he attempted to touch the elevator but his fingers slid right through the button.  Amanda’s jaw dropped open. She shook her head and opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before anything could escape her mouth, a burst of energy entered the room. Amanda couldn’t tell where it was coming from or what it was, she could only feel a strong wind blowing through the office building. 
Ezekiel faded and Amanda ran to where she had seen him fall. Her bottom lip quivered as she saw Ezekiel glowing in a white light, and wearing a long, white robe. Growing from his back, Ezekiel had large gray wings. Amanda turned to the others around her and they were still and immobile, as though they had not seen what was happening before her. Ezekiel’s body lifted off the floor. Amanda could then feel her own body beginning to rise as she looked at her hands and realized she was glowing as well. She too was wearing a white robe and tan wings were sprouting from her back.
 

        When the light faded, the 4 stood alone in the office building. Their clothes had been their own and they were all wingless. The building was empty and the lights were off.  The 4 exchanged glances. A dark sheen blanketed the sun that once shined through the large hallway. Their hearts beat readily in their chests and their eyes were wide and wet. No words could be formed. Silence crept awkwardly around the room. Amanda looked up towards the others not knowing what to think or say. Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, her eyes large and wet. “That was cool, but isn’t anybody going to say anything?”
 
       Ezekiel lowered his head as Aurora took a step forward. “What the hell is going on?” Aurora looked around her, her heart racing. “What was that? Well, somebody better say something!” Aurora’s voice had begun to get loud and irritated as she swung her arms out wildly.
 
       Neil looked over towards the other three. “I don’t know what to tell you except that whatever happened it’s obvious we’re all a part of it.”
  
      Aurora ran to the window beside her. Numerous hours had passed and it was night. The empty building was void of all light, save the luminosity of the stars, red moon, and city lights cast into the room. A thunderous neigh echoed through the halls as a man dressed in a pure white robe appeared standing, gazing outside of the window facing the city streets. After 3 neigh sounds, 3 other men appeared. The 4 men stood silent at first, their heads hooded and their backs facing the others. Aurora looked to Neil then back to the men by the window. These hooded men had an aura about them; a dark, malevolent aura that caused those surrounding to remain silent. The chalky sour taste in the mouths of Ezekiel, Aurora, Neil and Amanda forced their silence.
         “This is the Descended Radiance?” Odium finally spoke. “The angels descended onto earth as the fists of God?” He chuckled a bit. “Hail the Champions of the Light! Acclaim the Advocates of the Sacred Blood! Give heed to our counterparts, the other half of the grand design! Four beings of superior strength! All possible heavens and hell will shake in their revelation!” Odium turned to the 4. “Funny, I sense no real power here. Perhaps the power of these angels is not their own? Or perhaps you have no power at all?”

        Neil took a step forward. “Who are you? Do you know what just happened to us?”

        “We are students of the Forsaken,” Odium spread his arms open, his white hood still covering his face, hands and feet. “We are the acolytes of the darkness, the first seeds to be planted in what must come to pass. We are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.” Odium paused for a moment. “I want you to breathe in this world, every fiber, every molecule, every piece of dust. This world is the devil’s oyster. It always has been and always will be filled with the Forsaken and the Sinful; the darkness that is in all blood can never be cleansed! Open your arms and accept the Forsaken into your blood! Walk with us and you will not be killed.”
 Odium stood with his arms open, but he was still and unmoving. The 3 Horsemen behind him stood immobile as well. There was a long silence between the 8. Neil looked to Aurora who had been standing behind him, then to Ezekiel who had been standing a few feet behind him as well, then finally to Amanda who had been ducking behind her turned-over concession table. The other 3 Horsemen turned around and extended their open hands towards the 4.

La’Von Gittens
NoV’al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End

Xena: Warrior Princess

It looks like A-Rod might have a little more than baseball on his mind during tomorrow’s Game 6 — apparently there’s some rumblings that he and the stunning Kate Hudson are on the rocks after the actress learned of his love affair with Lucy Lawless, best known for playing the title role in his favourite supernatural TV show, Xena: Warrior Princess.

Friends say Rodriguez, who hangs portraits of himself as a centaur over his bed, is so smitten with Lawless that he goes into a trance every time an episode of Xena comes on while he’s working out, much like he did whenever “Like A Virgin” came on during his Madonna phase.

We’ll have to wait and see whether or not this has an impact on A-Rod’s performance in the final two games (the second, if necessary), though the roided slugger managed to block out the fact that last month was called “October” by simply switching his calendar to May and believing that was actually the case. When you live in a mythical fantasy land, anything is possible.

So today, well, damn, yesterday was All Saints Day. Here’s a fun fact: when I was little I used to think that, to be a saint, you had to have done something miraculous. So, it turns out this is kind of the case, but I interpreted this the way that, well…the way that I would. I genuinely thought saints had done something magical. Not like the kind of magic one finds in a young girl’s heart, but like Harry Potter magic. Swish and flick magic. I wasn’t terribly well versed in Christianity as a kid, but I used to watch a LOT of fantasy sci-fi.

These people always have been and always will be my heroes.

All Saints Day was implemented to counteract the earlier form of Halloween. The Christian appropriation of pagan holidays is sad. I don’t say this because I celebrate like an authentic Halloween or something, I just think it takes away from the supposed meaning of the new holiday. Not to mention it sucked for those being persecuted and on top of that we lose out on the history of a culture deemed unworthy by the rising majority. But anyway…

So I guess a layman’s version of All Saints Day is the day set aside for saints, known and unknown, who don’t have their own specific days (think Valentine and Patrick), to be honored. Denominations do everything different–some honor people in congregations who have passed away too. I don’t know the specifics, only what the History Channel decides to edit in. But I do think I understand a little better what sainthood is than I did when I was little, and though I’ve never celebrated November first, I’ve always felt like I’m supposed to because of my family’s Catholicism. But, like I said, that’s no reason to embrace a holiday. Not because you’re supposed to.

So instead I’m looking at…yesterday…like a Thanksgiving. I’m thankful for the fact that people do good things. That people don’t always suck. Because sometimes people do suck, but we’re all capable of good. And I know some really, really good people.

I’d make a list and I’d put you all on it, this is what I originally intended to do, but you’ll have to wait for Thanksgiving for that.

I don’t want to say that it’s hard to be a good person because I don’t really believe it is. Not that I succeed at this very often, but making choices that are beneficial for others and produce more good for the world should really be the default for us. I don’t know. This is…going to need some more deliberation. All I know is that it feels better to be at peace than anything else.

So I’m sorry for the mean stuff I said. I’m really sorry I ever made you feel bad.

Today is All Souls Day.

And I still think some saints were magic. Just sayin.

Oh, and I wrote 2610 words today.  Booya!

Da ist er nun – der Kopf-Zerbrecher-Buchstabe X. Musste da auch eine ganze Weile drüber nachdenken und so gibt es zwei Bilder und eine Zeichnung.

Projekt ABC: X wie…

…Xenas

Die Filmheldin in neuen Versionen

…Xaverl

Maus alter Teddybär

…X für ein U

John erklärt einen bekannten Spruch.

Bilder/Zeichnung: T.R. aka Wortman

Publishing Company Profile Up on Squidoo too! ^_^

NoV’al Publishing

La’Von Gittens
NoV’al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End

I decided to release the first four chapters of my book on Squidoo because it is the introduction to the first four main characters to my series! They’re a little intense, get ready to hit the floor running! I hope you have as much fun with my characters as I do!

Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End Preview.