So today was Free Comic book day and I went to a comic store in Star Trek garb for a paramount pictures thing to! Totally won a pair of tickets to the screening of it here in AZ. I’m so stoked! I can’t wait to be there!
These are pics of everyone I was able to get or steal pictures of so enjoy! Everyone was awesome.
Just want to show off my epic Star Trek Uncle Sam that I made the other night for my Star Trek site.
Check him out:
So I’ve been working on my story, Knights of Cydonia and I’ve determined part of my hold up is the amount of information I know and how much of it I want to intersect the stories together. I need a good method for putting all of my stories together. To make them work from beginning to end so they don’t seem disjointed.
I feel I have a good story in my head I just can’t figure out what to do with it all. I don’t know how to get the paths to all move to the middle and make my spider web complete.
I’ve tried many different methods:
I just can’t seem to find something that works for me. I’m thinking my way may be the traditionalist way. Writing it on note cards and pinning it to the wall with a string to line them together. My biggest problem with that is that I want there to be a lot of events and my walls aren’t that big. So I mean suggestions? Questions? Send me some TLC and snug me to tell me it’s alright? Please!? DORIS would love you.
“You’re awake!” his voice was almost cheery as her bleary eyes blinked against the brightness of the room. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat felt dry.
Licking her lips she opened her eyes to look at him. He looked somewhat disheveled. “What’s going on?” she croaked as the room slowly came into focus. She was surrounded in plastic just like Gregory James was.
“Do you know these men?”
“Yes,” she croaked again as she tried to move to be held back by a sticky sensation of firmness. She looked down to see that she was covered in plastic just like Mr James and that made her head spin around in a circle groaning her eyes fluttering to the top of her head her mind whirling almost putting her out again.
“Oh, no, stay with me,” he said moving closer to her bringing her focus back into the present. So this is why she was sweating. She couldn’t figure out how she got here. When she got here…
“How did I get here? Were is Gregory?”
“Gregory?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Who is that?”
“The guy I was going to kill,” she said with a huff, closing her eyes against the annoyingly loud light. The darkness didn’t comfort her, the light bleeding through her eyelids.
“It’s good that I caught you before you did.”
“I knew what you were when I saw you at the police station. You’re just like all of them,” she said rolling her head to the images hung up for her viewing pleasure.
“I’m nothing like them.”
“You are like them. Like me,” she smirked. “Wolf in sheeps clothing.”
“I’m nothing like you. Killing innocent people,” he yelled turning around and running a hand over his hair.
Elizabeth couldn’t help but let out a throaty laugh. “You think they are innocent?” she asked him her grin spreading across her lips. “Jamie Deak, woman rapist. Preferred type 15-20 years of age, vulnerable and red headed. Stalks his victims for 1 month before he abducts them. Wears masks so they can recognize them and bathes them before he drops them off in a random park to find their way home,” she nodded to another picture. “Julio Cortez, likes to beat his women and prefers that they fight. Doesn’t stalk them has a few women that he absuses regularly that can’t get away from him for fear of their family.”
Elizabeth looked to Dexter before she continued, “Darren Lumley, takes advantage of his college students and promises them good grades for sex or failure for denial. Prefers the mousy quiet ones to the loud and confident ones. Erik Cross, Voyeur and blackmailer. When the blackmail isn’t enough he abducts women and rapes them with inanimate objects taping it. Dexter Morgan, abducts and kills. Preferences… unknown. The difference is they don’t kill people but they may as well have. They destroy lives which is the same thing.”
“No,” he shook his head.
“Deny it all you want. Isn’t this your ritual?”
Dexter finally nodded. “I am nothing like them. I have control over the dark passenger.”
“Really?” she asked genuinely intrigued. “Then why is he loose?” why was she so calm in the face of her killer? Whatever got her here, whatever that journey in her mind was it prepared her for this and she knew what was coming. Why be afraid of it?
She wanted it.
“This is control. I focus it…”
“Keep telling yourself that cupcake,” she interrupted him. “Because when they find out what you are, what control you have they’ll be just as disgusted of you as they are of them,” she nodded to the pictures, “or me.”
“We all are. We’re all special snowflake killers,” he shoved a piece of cotton in her mouth.
“Shut up,” he growled at her. She closed her eyes as the scalpel came to her cheek the thin blade biting at her skin a trail of blood dripping down the side of her cheek. “Thank you,” she mumbled but it was more like a “mnnn ouuu” sound with the piece of cotton in her mouth.
Elizabeth looked up to him a smile on her face as he lifted the knife.
What a beautiful ritual…
The knife came straight down into her sternum, she grunted at the sensation, a tear rolling down the side of her face in happiness.
She was free now.
Free from the anger.
Free from the pain.
Free from the urge.
Free from the herself.
Free from the world.
They say as you die that you see your life flash before your eyes. All she saw was how she got there. It was just before the unfamiliar shoe. It was a struggle with him. He had kneed her painfully in her side that’s where the throbbing and sharp pains had come from. Finally he got her pinned to the ground and shoved a needle in her neck and she fell asleep.
Like now… the image of Dexter atop of her faded to the Dexter shuddering in delight in front of her before it faded to darkness.
The eternal silent dark.
This part of her ritual was different. There was something about it that made her excited but set her off. She felt agitated as she sat there waiting for the guy to come out. She could practically feel how wrong this was in her bones. She ached. Her muscles were tense. She felt like she wanted to scream. She smiled to herself, in a way it was right and yet so very wrong.
She was wearing a long sleeved shirt to cover all the henna tattoos. She was wearing soft makeup, her mascara running down her face from the fake tears she had been crying. Her normally disheveled and short hair covered in a blonde wig that went past her shoulders in soft curls. She sat on the bench in front of Gregory James’ building.
It wasn’t long, he always stayed after everyone else to screw his secretary. She had waited until after the secretary left before she came and sat down to wait for him. He always stayed up there afterward to smoke a cigar and drink a glass of scotch.
Elizabeth smirked as he hit the door exactly when she expected. She quickly wiped it off her face as she began to sob louder to catch his attention.
They all had them.
Some were better then others.
Some were to keep a schedule.
Some to keep sanity.
Some, like for Gregory James, were t keep to some form of a perverse life of perfection and superiority.
Tonight his routine would change.
The man approached looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on her. She didn’t see it because her face was buried in her hands but he smirked at her. She continued to sob even as the the man’s shoes came to where she could see it. “What’s the matter doll face?” he asked her, it sadly almost sounded sincere.
Elizabeth sniffled as she looked up to him. “I,” her chin quivered, “I just…” she sobbed again as she saw Dexter silently move in behind him. “My fiance just got killed in a car accident and… and…” Dexter’s hand went around his shoulders as he stabbed his plunger into his neck and depressed it. The man made a small attempt at a struggle before he fell to the ground.
“And that was awesome. Is that how you do it?” as she looked from the man on the ground to the predator in front of her.
“Yes,” he said bending down to grab the rather lithe man. He reminded her of a young Christian Bale… dark hair, fit but thin with a round face. Strong chin. He would have struggled more had she been alone. He would have been very difficult to subdue. Her side burned more at the thought.
“So much cleaner then me,” she said as she watched him pick the man up and lift him over his shoulder. Elizabeth picked up the briefcase.
“In more ways then one,” he said to her which caused her to frown at him, her brow furrowing again in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“My body disposal is cleaner as well.”
“How do you dispose of them then?”
“The ocean,” he said.
Elizabeth gasped. “You’re not!” she said breathlessly.
“Not what?” he looked over his shoulder at her, his own confusion written on his face.
“The butcher,” she said conspiratorially low.
“I hated that name,” his voice was etched with annoyance.
“But I thought that the butcher was dead…”
“Someone is dead.”
How exactly did they get in the car? It didn’t matter they were going to the kill room. It wasn’t exactly right. It was covered in plastic, just like the man himself. Where were the cleaning products? She had to be calm, what she wanted was there. What she needed was there. The tools of her trade. The things to make him scream…
But Dexter put something in his mouth. He couldn’t cry for help. If he did someone would hear him. She knew that.
This was going too fast.
How did they get to the kill room already.
Elizabeth’s mind was whirling with the strangeness of this all. Was it because it was so wrong that nothing was working out correctly? That nothing was the way it was supposed to be that she didn’t notice the details? That had to be it. Everything wasn’t as right as she needed it to be.
There were her tools.
There was the man.
There was her.
Her hair was in her face.
She was sweating.
When had she started sweating?
What did she do to start sweating?
It was the room, the room was hot.
So many bodies, too much body heat for the small room.
“I…” she said breathlessly again as the room started to spin.
This all felt wrong.
Her side started to ache but not the burning throb of a stab wound but the dull throb like someone kicked her hard in the side. The room started to get obscenely bright as she stared at Dexter.
Was he grinning?
That image took her breath away as she heard his voice but it was far away, not from the man in front of her. He was above her, like the light.
Elizabeth blinked again. What was happening?