TheWriterGang

Who’s the shadow underneath the mask Who’s the sad clown With a knife behind her back Who’s the secret whisperer And the maker of all dreams Who’s the fragile thread That connects present with the past Who’s the conqueror of pain Who is the child hurt and who licks the scars Who’s the voice that never stops As long as time ticks Who’s the watcher behind the tinted glass The true self never dies Covered by dirt and shame it hides It struggles its way through the tides The shadow and the mask The nameless one behind both lies

Springtime. The most beautiful time of year, Especially in the country of Japan. The season is marked By the mass blooming of cherry blossoms, Also known as sakura. They bloom in the first promise of spring And shoot from the trees In a froth of sugar-pink petals. The cherry blossom trees Glow in the morning sun Like the divine Japanese spirits. The spring breeze brings forth These beautiful blossoms, For they cannot be seen on cherry trees Any other time of the year. Even the old, mature trees Put on such a wonderful show When the blossoms carry off in the breeze From their gnarled branches. The world should focus less on finding new wars to fight And focus more on looking for cherry blossoms to watch For elegance conquers violence More than anything else. The sakura blossoms remain beautiful And will stay beautiful for a while Until they fade and die.

I wonder if spring ever takes a moment To bask in its own beauty Does it hear the songs of the birds As they dance among the cherry blossoms? Does it get lost in a sea of verdant botany And true blue skies like we do? I don't know what Spring is thinking But I hope it knows it is cherished.

" Put ya hands where I can see them and money in the bag!" Two assailants charged into a busy convenience store in one fateful morning. The duo were practically glued to the hip with how they refused to leave the side of the other. Jason seemed to be the leader of the operation from the way he swaggered inside with brimming confidence while his partner, Lucia, faltered ever so slightly. They kept their guns trained on their targets as they made their way to the store's center. A suffocating cloud of consternation hung heavy in the air, chilling the blood of almost everyone there. Crimes like this were far from uncommon in Vice City. You could hardly walk a few blocks without encountering dried blood caked up on the concrete or the cries of the helpless victim on their last day on earth. The patrons all instinctively knew that no cops would arrive just in time to save them from their darkest hour. If they remained obedient, they'd get to leave with their lives and a hungry wallet. " You heard the man! Just give us all y'all cash and we'll be on our way." Lucia walked around the store loading her bag with money while Jason dealt with the cashier. Everyone was quick to hand her their money before they ended up as yet another statistic. Many sobbed uncontrollably while others glared at her with barely suppressed anger. Lucia grinned wickedly as her loot steadily increased. Images of designer purses and shoes flashed in her mind, a collection of which seemed to grow every few weeks. She was about to check up on Josh when she heard IT. The deafening sound of a bullet leaving its chamber in hot pursuit of its latest victim. Lucia moved to the front the see the cashier convulsing on the ground with a fresh bullet wound in his stomach. Hot tears raced down the cashier's face while he clutched at his wound. Lucia knew the look in his eyes quite well. The look of someone with their back against the wall with no one to save them. A face that reflected years of pain and regret. She often held that same expression before she met Jason. Before she sold her soul for a life of degeneracy.  " That's what happens when you try to be a fucking hero!" Jason cocked his head in Lucia's direction. " This fool got some mighty balls on him, trying to take my gun like that. He's lucky I didn't blast his head off. Let's bounce." Lucia nodded and the two dashed out of the store and into a white Toyota Ae86. As Jason burned rubber on the hot asphalt, Lucia's mind drifted to the cashier. She wondered if he too had a loved one who would mourn him should the bullet wound prove fatal. She imagined all the anger, fear, and grief that must be consuming all those customers. Lucia was usually unfettered when she was with Jason, but she couldn't help feeling that all their crimes would eventually catch up with them. Sometimes she pretended not to care and other times those dreadful thoughts kept her tossing and turning throughout the night. Either way, this was the only life she knew how to live and she was damn sure to make the most of it.

The Parkview shopping mall was a mecca of consumerism that enraptured everyone far and wide. Whether you came from the crime-ridden ghettos or the affluent suburbs, one trip to this mall was sure to empty your wallets. That was unless your name was Rashida Jones. She always walked out of Parkview with bags of luxury items but hardly ever spent a dime. Rashida wasn't one for spending money. She was more of a five finger discount type of girl. Anything she wanted, she got it. Pricetags didn't matter because anything is free as long as you don't pay for it. Fine jewelry, perfume, lingerie,   married men, nothing was off limits to her. Rashida would often see people who were steady buying clothes out of their budget just to look important,  acting as if they didn't come from the same ghetto she did. It was so foolish how obsessed everyone was with impressing people who don't even care about you in the first place. That's where Rashida thought she was different. She only cared about keeping her head in the game and spoiling herself with fine luxuries. Many called her a lazy good for nothing career criminal, but that never deterred her. She knew they were just bitter over making chump change working 40 hours a week with nothing to show for it. With all the goods she was selling on the streets,  Rashida knew it wouldn't be long before she moved out of her dingy apartment and into a proper home. She laughed at the thought of all those snotty people who looked down on her because they lived the “honest” way. Truth be told, shoplifting was a hustle just like anything else. The world was cutthroat and anyone without the right money found themselves 6 feet under. All money was good money in Rashida’s eyes so people could miss her with all their moralizing bullcrap. She strode into the mall one fateful morning wearing only the finest of clothing. Rashida always made sure to be dressed to the nines when performing her heists. It was important to look like she was never lacking for money to avoid suspicion. In her mind, she could feel envious eyes of other women staring daggers into her while their husbands could just barely suppress their lust. She knew she was the shit, no secret about that.  She smugly grinned at everyone who passed by her on the way to her treasure. First was the perfume aisle. She couldn’t just look like money, she had to smell like it too.  With a swift hand, she swiped a bottle of “Rosé Fantasy” and stuffed it in her booster bag. She selected two more designer perfumes and made her way to the next aisle. Each time she performed a heist, a pair of dice rolled in her mind. She wouldn't know what the dice landed on until the heist was over. There were many times she pulled lucky sevens but just almost as many times where she pulled a four or a three. She had done well to avoid jail, throwing whomever  she had to under the bus to save her skin. Whenever she sensed that a heist would be particularly dangerous, she would bring a “friend” who she could pin the blame on. Next on Rashida’s agenda were a pair of high pump heels, as much jewelry she could carry,  and a cute satin dress. She felt so full of herself as she stuffed the bag full without even raising any suspension. She had a keen sense of self-awareness and didn't feel any eyes on her. Today was shaping up to be another lucky seven. Rashida visualized the pair of dice slowly rolling to reveal her favorite number. Two large men in black suits slowly began approaching her. Their expressions were stone cold and betrayed not a single shred of geniality. The dice spun once more. Rashida twisted her body 180 degrees and took off speed - walking to the outlet's entrance.  The men called out to her, but she wasn't hearing any of it. She cursed herself for letting her arrogance blind her.  Once Rashida heard the loud stomp of workbooks approaching her, she threw a clothes rack to the ground, tripping the guards in the process. Customers jerked their heads in the direction of all the commotion. All eyes were on her. She returned to her mad dash towards the exit but felt someone grab her wrist just as she almost got away. This time, it wasn't some security guard. It was a cop! What was one doing here already? Rashida's mind was left in a daze of fear and confusion as the cuffs were forced on her wrists. Luck had always been on her side until today. She thought she had what it took to make something for herself. The only thing she could see now was a single die, a misfortune one. As she was being hauled out of the store, Rashida caught a glance of a brown haired woman among the crowd of curious onlookers. It was a face she knew too well. It was Lucy, one of her former friends she set up to take the fall for a previous mission. Rashida thought she would still be rotting in jail now. What Rashida wasn't counting on was for her dear old friend to catch a plea bargain. All she had to do was help the police catch Rashida in the act. With Lucy's confession and all the charges Rashida racked up, Rashida’s career as a criminal would be taking a much needed hiatus. Lucy looked on with satisfaction from seeing the rotten snake she called a friend finally get her justice. More than that, she felt relieved at getting a second chance at life. She could hear the rhythm of dice rolling in her mind and whatever number they landed on would lead her to a brighter future.

The military force that followed behind her as she entered the parliament building was only partially made up of shifters. Turns out when you have enough military leaders telling soldiers to do something most soldiers follow orders, even if those orders were to help a minister of a rather unpopular party to overthrow the government in a time of crisis. And so on the 28th of Lenial in the year 4387 Kirstin Shaw, supported by both human and shifter soldiers, took over parliament in a military coup. The din inside the parliament was even worse than inside the large council hall. These people had no idea what was going on and no idea what to do about it. They were quite frankly, and quite rightly, freaking out. Shaw pointed her machinegun at the roof and pulled the trigger. In the quiet after the machine gun fire a bullet casing slipped down the marble staircase before her and made a soft tink for each step it traversed. "Everybody remain calm and do not move." Shaw instructed, with

Where time stops, yet keeps to a beat through drumrolls marching, trumpets blaring, calling brass to arms as all raise high and in unison, the music charges forth. A beautiful blend of melody with harmony, the woodwinds filter and flutter high upon the notes that scale the stratosphere, light and airy, butterflies alight above the pounding percussion drums and emboldened brass blaring their call. You cannot help but be moved.

Verse 1 - The fires have cooled to embers; the smoke has all blown away The bright sunburst of morning, faded to a muted gray You follow the drifting dust, lilting lazily through the air Here in the land down under, soon we’ll have no earthly cares Chorus - Was it an accident or design, when the clock struck its final chime? When the fireworks lit up the night, as brilliant as the morning light? Verse 2 - The radio's turned to static; the screens, all faded to black Geiger sings his lonely song, traipsing down the rusting tracks You feel the photons firing, slicing through your fragile skin Won’t you join us on the beach, and watch the twinkling stars spin Chorus - Was it a god's or devil's power, when the clock struck its midnight hour? When the fireballs lit up the sky, boiled the tears you would have cried? Interlude - Chorus - Was it an accident or design, when the clock struck its final chime? When the fireworks lit up the night, as brilliant as the morning

In Six (6) Words: Comeback The lights and electronics, back online. In Six (6) Words: Weather From rainy, to cloudy, to rainy. In Six (6) Words: Booster Jab Much needed after two important shots. In Six (6) Words: Side Effects Aftermath of the jab: sleepless night. Tanka: Not Quite Fixed, Yet Power has returned, But not fully optimal. There are still places Under recovery mode, More damages to address. Haiku: A Return? You come back to me… This will run differently, No longer the same. Cinquain: You Again… Milo… It’s you again. You looking up on me Even after that commotion? Well… sigh… Diamante: Timeline of Us Friends Supportive, Welcoming Commenting, Tweeting, Creating Connections, Interests, Misunderstandings, Betrayal Ranting, Mocking, Begging Annoying, Narcissistic Enemies In Six (6) Words: Last Run Enrolled in time for final term. In Six (6) Words: Graduation Last ride in university, finish academics. Sijo: Free Time Finding time to write some new material in poems… My

I used to love playing Twisted Metal. Its vehicular combat style gameplay made it a huge contrast from other videogames on the market and the characters had a lot of charm to them. My favorite character out of all of them was definitely Sweet Tooth. His unrepentant brutality and wise-cracking mouth made him an instant icon of the series. He's more or less the mascot of the franchise and it's hard to imagine a twisted metal game without him. Playing the game as a kid, he scared the hell out of me, but now, I can't help admiring him as a villain. One day I found myself growing nostalgic for the killer clown so I decided to boot up my old PS2 to play my favorite game in the series, TM Black. I inserted the disc into the console but nothing happened. I repeated this process several times only to reach the same result. The unfortunate reality that my game disc was damaged then dawned on me. This naturally pissed me off since I invested countless hours into this near masterpiece. All was not lost however. I knew of a comic book shop that specialized in selling old and obscure media. Their videogame selection was paltry, but I figured it was the fastest way to get the game at a reasonable price. It took a long but well worth it train ride to downtown Toronto to reach my destination. I clenched firmly to the hood of my coat as the harsh winter winds collided with my face. Snowfall was sure to come soon so hunkering down in my apartment with my favorite game was looking ideal. Greg, the owner of the shop, stared daggers into me as soon as I arrived. He's kinda weird like that. He had this shaggy black hair and heavy sunken eyes that made him look like the type of guy you'd bump into a dark alleyway. Greg's never really bothered me before so I tried not to pay him any mind. Still, it's hard not to wonder what goes on in his creepy little mind. The way he looks at female customers always gives the chills. I'd be surprised if he didn't have some kind of rap sheet. I walked past aisles of comics and headed straight to their modest videogame section. My eyes scanned on each title in my hunt for Black. To my dismay, it wasn't there. Did I come all this way for nothing? Not wanting to admit defeat just yet, I asked Greg if he had the game in stock. He just stared at me for a few seconds before giving a creepy smile and led me to the back of the shop. There was a whole row of games and dvds with pitch black covers. He handed me a case with " Twisted metal black" which was crudely drawn featuring a picture of Sweet Tooth. " What the heck is this?" I asked. " It's the game you wanted. It's a used copy so it didn't come with its original cover. Decided to give it a makeover," Greg replied in his gravely voice. I remained skeptical of the game's quality but bought it regardless. I joked to myself that this would be like owning a rare collector's item. My excitement lasted the entire train ride back home. I quickly inserted the disc inside my PlayStation and watched the screen come to life. Maybe it's because its been a while since I've played the game, but the intro was different from what I remembered. There was a much heavier focus on Sweet Tooth who was often seen slashing at unseen victims with his large knife. A blood splatter briefly appeared on the screen before the scene shifted to a blurry image of him sitting in an apartment room. This was incredibly strange because none of the games ever featured the characters in a home environment. Once the game finished booting up, I had the time of my life playing through sweet tooth's route. His story of being a serial killer clown who killed Calpyso in his own ending remained as iconic as ever. It felt so satisfying to finally turn the tables on that sadistic mastermind. My entertainment soon turned into confusion upon seeing the credits finish rolling and display the title " Twisted Metal Lost" on screen. What the hell was going on? TM Lost is a bonus feature that was only featured in special editions of TM Head-on so it should've been impossible for my copy of Black to have it. Greg definitely modded the disc but I wasn't complaining. Little surprises like this will always get a warm welcome from me. At least that's what I thought before finding out what the game truly had in store for me. Immediately after selecting the Lost mode, Sweet Tooth's guttural laugh blared from my speakers. The scene then showed Sweet Tooth running around in an asylum with his iconic cleaver in hand. Asylum workers would spawn sporadically throughout the stage and I controlled sweet tooth to cut them all up. I was loving this mod more and more with every second. It was like I was experiencing the true Sweet Tooth; a seasoned serial killer unrestricted by the confines of a car. He was free to slaughter indiscriminately and I was in full control of his mayhem. By the time I was done, the asylum was left painted in blood. Once the level was complete, the screen faded to black before an image of Sweet Tooth sitting in a wooden chair appeared. " Hello John. Having fun yet?" I felt my body jolt in surprise. Sweet Tooth had just said my name. Even if Greg modded this game, how could he know that I would be the one to buy it? Just how many more surprises did he have up his sleeve? " Looks to me like you've been having a helluva time cutting those pigs up. Can't say I blame ya. Just don't forget that this is still MY game and you have to play by my rules. This next level should be something very familiar. Let's play a game of hide and seek. You be the scared little lamb and I'll be the butcher that serves you on a platter. See you soon." A wicked cackle roared from my speakers before a loading screen of a smiling Sweet Tooth popped up. My blood ran cold when I saw what stage was next. It was my city. More specifically, it was a supermarket near my neighborhood. I find it hard to believe that Greg had only coincidently modded my neighborhood into one of my favorite games. Had he been stalking me? The attention to detail was immaculate. Greg had perfectly replicated the streets and stores surrounding the market down to the chips of paint on their signs. It was all so uncanny. I watched Sweet Tooth walk through the crowded streets while brandishing his cleaver without anyone noticing him. He was completely invisible to everyone but me. Sweet Tooth dashed down several blocks, gradually getting closer to my neighborhood. Fear swelled in my heart as Sweet Tooth approached my home with his bloody cleaver shining radiantly. I immediately unplugged my PS2 and locked my bedroom door. Bullets of sweat raced down my head as I ruminated about what just happened. Greg was one sick fuck for making something like this. Was this his idea of a joke? He must've been some sort of messed up stalker. Just as I was about to curse him out over the phone, a loud bang at more door froze me solid. It was a kind of unhinged, violent bang that made it clear whoever was on the other side had vile intentions. I weakly walked over to the peephole to see who it could be and I felt my blood turn to ice. Those baggy white pants and macabre mask were unmistakable. Sweet Tooth was at my door with his face mere inches away from the hole. What the hell was going on? I had no explanation for what I saw but there Sweet Tooth was looking like he wanted to make my head roll. I at first thought it was Greg continuing his prank on me but Sweet Tooth's physique is far too different. Greg was more on the lean side while Sweet Tooth is incredibly stocky. To make matters worse, this man's head was aflame and yet he didn't seem to be in the slightest bit of pain. I immediately barricaded my door with whatever furniture I had and locked myself in my upstairs bedroom. I grabbed my phone to call the cops but for some reason, it wasn't working. All I got was static on the speaker. I barely had time it wonder what was going on when I heard a loud crash come from downstairs. Loud stomps echoed throughout the apartment and quickly drew closer to me. My heart felt just about ready to burst from my chest. I couldn't believe that Sweet Tooth was about to kill me. The pounding at my door grew louder by the second and it felt like the walls were closing in on me. In my panic, I almost forgot about my fire escape. I dashed out of the window and to the metallic balcony just in time to hear my door burst open. Not taking a second to look back, I bolted down each ladder with frantic energy. My mind was focused solely on getting the hell out of there. Once my feet touched the concrete,  I was prepared to run to the nearest police station, but to my horror, Sweet Tooth had just landed right in front of me. He cackled a hideous laugh before the tip of his cleaver was embedded in my stomach. Mind numbing pain consumed every part of my mind and the only thing I could do was cry and puke up blood. The last thing I saw before blacking out was Sweet Tooth standing over me, laughing menacingly. ***** When I woke up, I could hardly believe I was still alive. I sat in a hospital room with a whole bunch of tubes connected to me. After the nurses let the police know I was awake, they came over to interrogate me. All I could tell them was that someone dressed as a clown broke into my apartment and tried to kill me. No way were they going to believe that some videogame character had come to life to annihilate me. It was obvious that the police search would lead nowhere. I never went back to the comic shop after that day.  Whoever Greg is, he's a creepy bastard that everyone should stay the hell away from. I can't even enjoy playing Twisted Metal anymore without thinking of that horrific incident. To anyone reading this, keep yourself safe and never go to the Magnifique Noir Comic shop.