The Church, Part 2

Church, LANDEWEDNACK, Cornwall, England.
Church, LANDEWEDNACK, Cornwall, England.

With a heated flash, the snake opened its mouth and clamped down on my upper torso.

Feeling warm and inviting, its tongue and coiled around my torso and pulled me into his waiting jaws.

The warmth of the saliva and body heat welcomed me as it slowly tried to swallow me whole.


I had pulled my Katana out before the tongue had pulled me in – jutting straight out in the samurai stance the snake had pulled me into its mouth – with the katana stabbing straight into the back of its throat.

With the warmth of the tongue and saliva, its blood flowed down my body like a flowing creek, running down my whole body. A sudden rush of air welcomed the back of my head and it spat me out just as it had swallowed me.

Still wondering about my great luck, I scrambled up and assuming a forward stance.  As if on cue, the snake reared its head 15 feet above the group and struck downward towards me.

With the invisible hand of fate, my body stepped to the left side – a classic Aikido movement as the snake’s head landed with a thud where my body once was. Having raised my sword above my head, my torso twisted to my right, having bullseye’d the snakes head in the flash of the snake’s attack.

Instinctively it came down amongst chaos of the snarling and hissing of the snake and entered the snake”s neck like a hot knife through butter.

Blood didn’t even come out of the slice as the sword’s silver body made its way down to the bottom end of the snake’s throat. With a thundering crash the bodiless head landed on the floor and bounced over to the right side of the church, crushing several rows of pews. All the meanwhile the body itself – still attached to the original  robed body fell in a spectacular defeat, blood spewing everywhere.

I positioned the katana and plunged the sword through the head to make sure it was dead. No sooner had I taken it out of the skull, a banshee ripped through me from the back. Falling forward, I collapsed under the intense pain, my katana laid useless next to me.

As more and more banshees burst forth from the fog, a voice rang out from the mist, reverberating off of the walls as they had loudspeakers…


It was the voice a desperate, emotional, and screaming psyche.


Funny enough, it sounded a lot like my mother. The phrase kept on repeating itself as more and more banshees passed through my torso like ghosts attempting to rip me apart.

The mist at this point had covered the pews and were closing at all sides. Whimpering from what felt like someone kicking my diaphragm multiple times, I laid there shaking from all the hits as if the seizure had seized my body.

Then it hit me – If the voice sounded like my mom, what would she have wanted me to say to her if she was yelling at me? I was surprised that this thought even came through.

With the last banshee entering my body, I allowed my voice to utter the first words that came out of my voice box…

“I love you mom”. 

Like a sliver of hope, the words echoed from my now spasming mouth.

As if on command, the mist stopped.

Hovering just a few feet from me and having already taken over the entire church, I rolled over to look and saw, with amazed eyes (while gasping for air) that the mist looked like a wall of grey silhouetted against the church. It was as if a beam of light was illuminating me, revealing the position of the church that my convulsing body was occupying. Still convulsing, I uttered the sentence..

“I love you mom”

As if pulled by some invisible force, the mist began receding, reveal the glimpses of the pews which they had only moments earlier swallowed whole.

“I love you mom.”

The fog receding some more – there were no more banshees – good I thought, but then I realized I had spoken too soon.

“You love me? How could you?! You can’t love me!?” 

“I love you, mom”

The fog’s retreat quickened – the pews had finally revealed themselves to the light, while the snakes body and head that were swallowed up by the fog just moments ago, were no longer there. With a whoosh of the air in the church, the fog retreated towards several side doors and left.

Rolling on my side I looked up at that front of the church, where the saint had been.

It was still there – along with the candles. Still burning as if the fog had forgotten to put them out. Thinking that my body was still ripped by the banshees, I laid there for a moment – then as if my body knew before I did I immediately got back up.

Looking around, it as if the fog had forgotten to destroy the church – nothing had changed – even the place where the snake had fallen the pews were there – as if they repaired themselves.

I stood up and looked around. There laid my katana where I had left it and the church before me, seemingly untouched. Looking up at the saint, the expression on is face seemed to indicate that even he didn’t know what had happened.

The Church, Part 1

It was a large rustic church; it looked at least a hundred years old given how much paint had peeled off the columns.

Still it had a quaint feel to it – like it had been used regularly at one point. Not bad for a little church in the middle of nowhere he thought. Give or take 20 rows on each side, there were still some bibles lying around on the rows, as if the place was still waiting for its congregation to return.

Church, LANDEWEDNACK, Cornwall, England.
Church, LANDEWEDNACK, Cornwall, England.

I took one wiff of the air in the church: “feels heavy”.

Looking straight ahead, contrasting the old rustic feel were the freshly lit candles all across the alter and platform.

“Someone’s waiting for something or someone…”

The patron saint of something was in full view at the alter, the flicker of the candles illuminated the shadow of the saint like a truth seeing light. Just like the religion itself – behind every saint, there is a shadow.

Strolling along the center aisle towards the alter, the footsteps echoed through the church, revealing the emptiness of the structure – somehow it seemed representative of its past life.

“Something’s not right.”

My attention was then drawn to a hooded figure sitting at the front row facing forward towards the saint. Hunched over; the robe was covering its entire body. There was something familiar with the presence of the figure, yet not…


It exploded onto him with the force of a car. It wasn’t my crush at all, but a banshee! The brown robe had disintegrated into a smoky dark blob with a skeletal face and hands perturbing out of the long sleeve hand holes.The black mass fly around like a black smoky comet screaming and yelling.

It was like someone scratching nails across a chalkboard, Like that times 3!

It flew all over the church screaming, but I never fell – I turned around to check for others – and there they were. A massive black wall of smoke bellowed out of the doors and ceiling with immense speed, quickly covering the all of the inner surfaces of the church. As the smoke continued flowing its way towards the center more and more banshees flew out of the smoke and sped along and went through me!

Searing pain, like a thousand red hot punches to the gut tore through my body as the banshees flew from their dark spaces and continued conquering the church. With what strength I had left, I staggered over to the exit where I had came, but looking up I saw that three of those things were blocking my way.

With a quick flick of my right arm, the sawed off shotgun was pointing at the closest and its explosive payload went flying straight towards them with the pull of the trigger.

But the shot went straight through the misty body of that one and hit harmlessly at the door behind it.

“What the fuck…”

My left arm came up to support the barrel as I pulled to release the next few shots – all to not avail. The forms slowly glided towards me despite the deadly unrefined iron and salt splashed everywhere.

Turning back, I saw what was a bigger hooded figure. Great – it’s the bigger brother (sister?) of the group. Standing there with the fog ever creeping closer to me I locked eyes with it. Then with the grace of a mini-earthquake a giant snake erupted from the body.

5 feet wide with a  grin that’d make the devil blush, it’s eyes pierced what light was left in the church and 10 foot long head coiled back with its body still attached to the hooded body it sprang from. Pulling out my katana, my body sensed the intense body heat detectors pick up the heat from my pounding heart – thought I didn’t had time when it finally struck me.

Normal Life

All my life I wanted to live a normal life – with disastrous results.

I wanted to be normal, to be “accepted”. To have tons and tons of friends – to live a life with a house, a nice salary, “normal” boundaries with “normal” friends.

Due to my troubles with personal space and my nasty upbringing, I’ve come to realized that perhaps, after all my failures personally and professional that I was never meant to be “normal”.

Perhaps, after all this time I’ve been avoiding my true path. Perhaps I was not meant to be normal. Perhaps I was meant to turn an underwhelming, underperforming, sad depressing life into an extraordinary one.

I will accept that life.

And I will supercharge it to the point where I will overwhelming myself with awesomeness.


My First Writing Piece

travel written in the sand

For the past few weeks I’ve been trying to recreate my writing “prowess” if I dare say so myself.

It all started when I was in 11th grade. I had written a piece which was influence by a dream I had at that time.

Unfortunately I don’t remember what exactly I wrote but I was in some car and I was chasing it and shooting it up apparently.

It was about a 2 page entry into a kind of high school collection of writing pieces from the student body and (also apparently) it was considered violent

So violent that I was called into a meeting with the head of the project (my AP US history teacher!) and was asked if I had any “violent intentions”.

Obviously no; With that said however, my piece unfortunately (damn it!) didn’t get selected.

Now, more than 10 years later – this forgotten treasure has resurfaced into my mind from the forgotten depths of my subconscious and made itself known.

I mean seriously, if my writing was so good that people thought it was foreshadowing me coming to school and shooting the place up, then my writing had to be hella good, yes?

I mean, what a better way than to be introduced into writing than by having your history teacher ask you if you were thinking black thoughts?

Inspiration of the Day: Connecting to my true self

All my life inspiration and epiphanies have always been common place – but I’ve always been the one who rebuffed them as “tricks of the mind” or “flashes of a weird voice”.

So how does it connect to “connecting with yourself”?

It actually started out while I was watching Avatar: The Last Airbender. There’s a character called Lord Zuko who had by the end of the series hunted down the Avatar for almost 3 seasons.

Now Lord Zuko (who would at the end be the Avatar’s friend) was a very…emotional person to say the least. He was often hot tempered, quick to anger, sarcastic, snappy, and often disregarded help as a sign that personal weakness on his part. While searching for the Avatar he was often known to not thinking through with his schemes while “jumping before he looked” – a strategy which often led to his defeat at the hands of the Avatar and gang.

But then in the 3rd and last season of the series he later become very compassionate, empathetic, brave, outspoken, and while still snappy – a great listener.


How did this happen? He become connected to his true self.

You see, at the beginning of the series his whole mission was the capture the avatar, since he was ordered by his father to do so after being banished by his father for disobeying an order.

Yes, his father banished him and sent him off on what was essentially a wild goose chase. After many trials and tribulations – and long and complicated story short – he finds the avatar and releases him because of a epiphany.


Being the new fanboy that I am I realized something from watching the series and from some of the forums regarding him.

He’s basically a man raised to be a prince – an unsympathetic one at that. From his father and a sociopath of a sister he was expected to be merciless, cutthroat, to crave power, unemotional, and ultimately destructive in the name of glory. All of which he was notAs mentioned earlier by the end of the series he is shown to be the opposite of how he was raised – very compassionate, empathetic, brave, outspoken, and while still snappy – a great listener.

Which got me thinking…

What would happen if someone was raised to be something they were not, what would be the signs that they were suffering from extreme conflict…like me?

In two words I can describe a life like that: self destructive

You basically are fighting yourself, your own nature that was is meant to be free, honest, and self actualizing but is limited, even constantly destroyed by a nurture that is constantly telling you that you are wrong and that you should do this to impress this. When your nurture is hurting, even trying to destroy your nature, the person that you are to the public is – to put it mildly – off balance.

(L to R) Prince Zuko and Avatar Aang – Season 3 (Book 3: Fire) of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

One defining aspect of Zuko before he came around was his self sabotaging ways. All of his schemes to accomplish anything (avatar related or not) always failed – by themselves!

What I’ve noticed in life is that while there are always aspects that we can’t control – but if we keep on self sabotaging ourselves, then it’s no longer an outside force – it is the inside.

Watching Prince – later Lord Zuko reminded me of myself growing up. Basically raised to be one when it actuality I was the complete opposite. It only took me 20 years to come to the conclusion, but I’ve embraced (for the most part) that it is better late than never that I have actualized my nature.

As for Lord Zuko? After he convinced Team Avatar that he was on their side (after helping them in various trials and tribulations), he helped bring down the Fire Nation leadership (his father and his sister), later becoming the new leader of the Fire Nation and becoming life long friends to the Avatar.

Cartoons are a live saver!

The main characters of the show “Gargoyles”.

One of my few great memories growing up was the plethora of cartoons that were available during my elementary and middle school years.

Now of course, generations X,Y, and even Z will say that “their cartoons” were the best. I’ll stay out of these and just focus on the ones that I’ve come to love from the 90s and early 00’s.

Growing up, I had the standard maturing boy’s obsession with cartoons; I’d wake up early at 7am on Saturdays and some weekends to watch the latest on Nickelodeon, ABC, FOX, WarnerBros cartoons.

Oh man Mutant League, Darkwing Duck, Tailspin, Conan the Adventurer, The Mighty Ducks, Doug, Duck Tales, Chip and Dale: Rescue Rangers, GI Joe, Transformers (the original!), Johnny Quest, and The Justice League. This cartoons were the shit!

One that has stayed with me all these years as a little known cartoon known as GargoylesThen I didn’t understand why I was attracted to the show then – but I know that now it was just the combination of the various themes that the show had that to me most other shows didn’t have.

It was all I wanted: Dark vibes, fantasy meets realism (sort of), real world with the mystical, supernatural, melodrama, character development, great writing, human emotion, and a real connection to those who are seen as “evil” in society.

The last part was somewhat true that during my childhood, I was often seen with suspicion and weariness – even by some members of my own family. I guess the whole gargoyles turning into crime fighters gave me a sense of hope for my situation then (which I’ll get to in a later post).

There are a few more, but after watching Avatar: The Last Airbender, memories of this series came up. PS – below is the trailer for Gargoyles; I still get goosebumps just hearing it!

The Legend of Korra

Pictured:  Korra, Naga, Bolin, Mako, Tenzin in THE LEGEND OF KORRA on Nickelodeon.  Photo: Nickelodeon.  ©2012 Viacom, International, Inc.  All Rights Reserved
Pictured: Korra, Naga, Bolin, Mako, Tenzin in THE LEGEND OF KORRA on Nickelodeon. Photo: Nickelodeon. ©2012 Viacom, International, Inc. All Rights Reserved

The Legend of Korra, the sequel to Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA) is a great successor to the stellar ATLA and one that has great contrast story wise to its predecessor.

One of Korra’s first major actions in the series was to defy the requests of her mentor(s) and head to Republic City, This sets the tone with the series – and her as the avatar. But this is not why I loved the series over ATLA.

I love this series because of the writing. The writers are able to weave a more adult themes into its dialogue while remaining true to the cartoon themes and how the story is weaved.

How is the story weaved you may ask? Well what is special about ATLA and LOK is because of how the creators took Eastern culture (Chinese, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc.), kept the authenticity of those concepts, and weaved it into a show that appealed to both fans of ATLA and people who don’t have the background knowledge.

This of course goes for both series.

For some reason I’m more attracted to LOK more than the original. Korra appeals to me more because of her personality (more on that in a later post), though I have to say personality wise I’m more of Aang (from ATLA).

The Magic of the last Airbender

Avatar-The-Last-Airbender-Free-DownloadOver the course of the last few weeks I’ve fallen in love with this series. Never before have I been so captivated by such a series – and here am I a 30 year old guy.

My girlfriend introduced me to this series and seriously, I’ve blasted my way (pun intended) through this series as well as Legend of Korra (the sequel series).

Never have I ever encountered this type of quality series since my childhood in the 90s. I loved everything about this series: the animation, the storyline, the characters, the plethora of Asian/Far Eastern references, the martial arts (can’t forget about that!), and of course the character interactions.

The last one in particular really is the make-it-or-break-it for me when it comes to watching shows. If there is no genuine character chemistry in any visual media, then I’m not watching it.

This theme was kept on going with the series successor, The Legend of Korra. Though it was a little more far-fetched than the world of Aang (the avatar in the first series), I loved how the writers and creators of both series Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko weaved modernity with spirituality along side a tough alpha-female avatar that is Korra.

I can’t explain why I blew my way through both of these series. I guess I was just hooked on everything

Though between ATLA and the Legend of Korra (LOK), I’d say I’m slightly biased towards LOK. More on that later.