Demons within

I was sitting in my home, watching television, when suddenly there came a knocking at the door. I assumed it was my friend, Tristam, for I was expecting him, even though he was late. I checked my watch, it was fifteen minutes till eleven. It was rather late, but with the weather I expected him to be late. I wished he would have called, but I knew there would be no service. I went to the door, and looked out into the dark and bleak blackness of the night. There was no one there. I saw a figure off in the distance, and stepped out to get a better look. Then that god awful smell hit me. I knew that smell, it was a smell I had smelled before. That awful smell, the smell of when you are gutting out a game animal. Still, I stepped out even further. The snow crunched beneath my feet. I saw the figure move, barely, sort of a twitch. I didn't think it was looking towards me, I thought it might be Tristam pulling some prank. But as I got closer, I realized that the figure was about eight feet tall, and the smell was coming from it's direction. Tristam was only 5'4". I was about to call out to it, but then the sense hit me. I could feel the sense that someone had recently died, in the past fifteen or twenty minutes, the feeling of death set on me like a cold hand on the back of my neck, and a pain deep in my stomach.

It grunted and sniffed the air, and it turned around and looked at me, it's face illuminated by the street light. It was holding a human arm, and it's face was splattered in blood and gore. It's jaw was gaping, showing me rows and rows of sharp, bloodstained teeth. It was nude, but I could not tell if this creature was a male or female. I pulled out my .380 and ventilated the creature. My ears were ringing, but through the ringing I could hear many, many gut wrenching screams through out the mountains. This screams were inhuman, gut wrenching screams that no creature I knew of was capable of. I sprinted back to the house, and locked the dead bolts behind me. I made my way to the gun cabinet, and grabbed my best rifle. I turned around to see six faces peering at me through the window, all with that creeping, sadistic, jaw gaping smile that the other creature had, but these creatures weren't blood splattered. They beat at the window, but it was tempered glass, not even bullets could get through it. I looked around and saw other creatures beating at other windows. I saw the back window get smashed in, no one is that strong. I went into the garage, and saw the pump for the 1000 gallon diesel storage tank that was for the tractors and farm vehicles. I turned the knob all the way, just as the creatures started beating in the door.

I pulled out my favorite zippo lighter just as they came in. I flicked the flint, and it sparked. It only takes a spark to get a fire going...

Dreams

DREAMS: George and Lennie's dream is to one day own their own land, be their own bosses, and control their own lives. They want to "live off the fatta' the lan'" and be able to make their own rules. Their dream is quite realistic, because all they need is the money they almost have. They already have the skills to live off the land. People needs to have dreams for the future. People need to have goals. People need them to give them selves purpose. Whether their dreams are evil, good, bad, sadistic, weird, people just need to have dreams or they are just meaninglessly floating around. If people doubt those dreams, it will influence the person, to either try harder or give up, or somewhere in between. If their dreams go unfulfilled for long periods of time, they might start to doubt, or they might just drive on. It's better to hold onto to a dream in bad times than to face reality. Having the dream makes you think you have control. But control is just and illusion.