Friday, November 8, 2013

This story is the result of the realization that when I sit down at the gaming table I seem to always be playing a variation on the same character.  When I sat down down to create something different, my pen kept writing well beyond the basic stats.  This story is by no means complete.  It is a simple origin that will one day be continued in the form of an epic adventure. Enjoy.


                                                        Whiteleaf

     The love story of Cerian and Margaret is a tale for another day.  All you need to know for now is that an elven man loved a human woman and from that love grew a son.

     Lycien Whiteleaf was raised in his mother's remote human village.  From the day he was born, Margaret knew her son was special.  He possessed a knowledge and power that no other man in the village ever would.  She envisioned a world where her son was a great warrior and leader of men who would one day unite all the lands.

     As soon as he was able to walk, Lycien had a wooden sword thrust into his hand.  His uncles spent hours teaching him to wield it.  When he was old enough to have chores, his time was divided between work and training.  At fifteen, things changed.  Lycien was taken on his first hunt.  Never a fan of meat, he spent the rest of the night and part of the next morning cring over having taken the life of an innocent creature.  Margaret explained to her son that as a soldier and general he would take many lives.  That is when Lycien told his mother what he had been dreading.  He did not want to be a soldier.  He did not want to fight.  He wanted to help people.  To heal them.

     Margaret was furious.  Her son was supposed to become a great leader who would one day rescue her from this tiny village.  No more floor scrubbing.  No more clothes washing.  Now her dream was ruined.  She accused Lycien of being too much like his father and cast him out of her home.  Lycien grabbed what few supplies and food he could manage in a hurry and set out into the night.  That was the last contact he would have with humans for quite some time.  He walked until he reached the forest then he walked some more.  Luckily he had always had very good night vision.  Eventually he grew tired and rest against a tree trunk to eat a bit of bread and lie down on a bed of leaves.  He was soon sound asleep.

     Lycien awoke with the sun.  Alone, frightened and staring up into some very puzzled faces.  It seemed a band of elves had been camped nearby and stumbled upon the sleeping young man while gathering roots and leaves.  He had never seen an elf before but, had only heard stories, but these elves seemed to recognize him.  The elves invited Lycien back to their camp and gave him a warm breakfast.  They asked where he was from and how he came to be sleeping in the forest.  He told them of his mothers dream and his own wish to be a healer and of his mother's rage when he told her of his desire.  It was then that he was led to a medium sized tent just outside of the main camp.  The tent oof Cerian the herbalist.  It was then that Lycien met his father for the first time that he could remember.

     Cerian knew that this day would come and was prepared.  Though Lycien was never told about his mixed heritage, Cerian and his elven brothers had kept a close eye on his son.  It was no accident that they happened to prefer this part of this particular forest.  Lycien had learned much in his mother's village but now it was time to learn about his other half.

     Though he hated fighting and didn't eat meat, his father made Lycien learn to use a bow.  Cerian explained that fighting rarely solved anything but sometimes it was necessary.  Lycien also learned all about herbalism.  He soon knew which herbs and flowers could cure sickness and disease and which could kill.  He even learned of a very special, very rare flower that could bestow life.

     Living among the elves felt right.  It felt like he belonged.  Occasionally, a human would come into camp seeking medicine or bringing a sick loved one to see if the elven medicine might help them.  Once every lunar cycle, the elves would venture into the human villages to trade goods and services.  Cerian would make rounds tending the sick.  He always refused payment unless the family insisted.  Even then he would only accept trade, never money.

     That was many years ago.  Cerian has since moved on into the next life.  Lycien can still be found in the forest not far from his mother's village living in his shelter of living trees and tending to his beautiful garden of healing herbs and flowers that he uses to continue his fathers work.



Wednesday, September 18, 2013

My Brief Sojourn Into Filmmaking

     As some of you know, I recently spent a day working on a friends film project.  It was an interesting day for sure.  With the release of the trailer for the film, I decided to look back on the experience from a fresh perspective.
    
     I had been excited about the project from the time I was first approached about doing it.  It was a simple request, try to look menacing and don't say anything. Piece of cake! The hardest part was being asked to shave my head for my small role.  I had only recently begun to grow my hair back out and at my age, it doesn't grow as fast as it used to. 

     A few days before shooting was to begin, I was set to meet with the director and another actor to choreograph my big scene.  It was to be a fight scene between the two of us and we wanted to make sure it looked good before we filmed.  In preparation, the night before I shaved myself clean so I could give the director an idea of my characters look.  I managed to sprain my thumb at some point during the rehearsal which made doing my regular job, not to mention blogging, a bit painful.  As luck would have it, weather and the threat of weather caused our outdoor shoot to be postponed.  It would be another month, during the hottest part of the summer, when we would finally shoot my couple of scenes.

     The day of the shoot, I woke early and ate a good breakfast which I rarely do.  I put on my protective padding donned my costume and headed to the site with the other actor I would be working with. 

     The location was some train tracks in a wooded area.  It seemed like would be shady and peaceful.  I arrived ready to work as I do with any job.  And I proceeded to sit for about ninety minutes while the director, who was also playing a role in the film, got the camera and sound ready to go and shot some footage of the location and himself.  Finally I was called for a couple of closeups and reaction shots.  Ten minutes later, I was waiting again. For a long time.  This is an aspect of film making that most people don't consider.  I knew, of course, that there were other things that went on besides just putting actors in front of a camera but I did not realize how much sitting around waiting to work actually went on.  I was not the only one who wasn't entirely thrilled with just sitting around on the rocks so i tried to remain upbeat and keep the mood light. 

     Finally, it was time for the big fight.  We did it several times and in several segments, shooting each one from many angles.  Maintaining the intensity for the fight was easy enough considering the frustration of sitting in the sun all day.  We filmed until we just couldn't handle doing another take and finally it was time to head home as the sun set on my brush with stardom. 

     I arrived home exhausted, hungry and partially dehydrated.  Despite drinking plenty of water throughout the day and my hearty breakfast, the activity and physicality of the fight scene had drained me.  Stripping out of my costume I realized I may have had my pads secured a little too tight as they were hard to remove and the circulation abruptly returned to my legs.  When I went to clean up I realized that I probably should have applied some sunscreen to my chrome dome.  I had never done this before when my head was shaved so it did not occur to me on this day.  I looked like a lobster but a couple of days later it got worse when my scalp began to peel. 

     A week or so later, i got a message from the director saying that my stuff looked good and I was done.  He gave me permission to re-grow my hair much to the delight of my fiancee.  I came out of the movie making experience tired and beat up but with a new respect for the folks who do it everyday.  If asked I would definitely take part in another one.  I think I am ready for a speaking role. And maybe a romantic interest.

You can view the trailer for Wesley's Way here

http://vimeo.com/74645916

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Destiny

I met my Destiny once
I even went so far as to make a date with Destiny
Things were going well until I found she spelled it with two e's
In that moment I had to make a difficult choice
That night, I turned my back on Destiny

Inside people

I am an inside person.  Outside is a dangerous unnecessary place.  Outside doesn't even need provocation.  If you so much as venture into outside's territory and it doesn't burn the flesh from your bones, it will send one of its minions to bite you, infect you with disease or just straight up eat your face. 
The outside has grown too powerful.  Each year,its waters inch closer trying to wash away our homes.  When that doesn't work, it sends the winds to blow them down. 
We inside people need to band together and rise up against the outside.  We need to beat it back and remind it who truly rules. 
No one needs the outside.  If you should see something that you want or need, all you have to do is pick up the phone or turn on your computer.  There are a handful of brave souls out there who will risk the dangerous conditions of outside to bring these things to you.  They are trained professionals ready for anything.  Thanks to them, there is no need for us to endanger our lives by venturing into the unforgiving realm of the outside.

Braineater: A Love Story

Why does everyone run from zombies?
what are they afraid of?
O.k., sure, no one wants to get their brains eaten. But, come on how long could it hurt for?  A couple of bites and you are dead.  Once you are dead you no longer feel the pain.  Now your dead but soon you are going to rise up a mindless zombie yourself. 
Let's face it that's all you are anyway. Staring blankly at the office wall while your hand go through the motions of your daily routine.  Sitting behind the wheel as your car drives the same familiar route back home.  The only difference is that before something ate your brain, you used to worry about everything. 
Does my wife still love me?  Will I get a promotion?  How will I pay my rent?  How can that be my kid when it looks nothing like me? 
As a zombie, you are now free. Free from worry and woe.  Free from everything that you used to complain was holding you back.  Becoming one of the walking dead is the best thing that ever happened to you. 
Next time a dirty, ragged drifter comes around begging for brains, give him a little taste.  Trust me, you'll be happier.

Brain surfing

Unfocused
Not making sense
Someone in my head is pushing buttons. Changing the station before anything can be tuned in clearly.
Only receiving snippets
words, sentences, even paragraphs with no relation to each other
Still I try to make them fit together
People meet my randomness with odd looks and they keep their distance
I don't mind
The fuzzy clutter in my mind is beginning to frighten me 
I try to put up a fight and resist the channel surfer in my head
I'm afraid he will take over and the mess in my head will become permanent
The barrage of flickering images and random sound bites is slowly driving me insane
I can feel myself beginning to drool

The F Word

Fear
Fear of failure
Fear of heights
Fear of loss
Fear of change
Fear of the unknown
Paralyzing
Frieghtened
Frozen
I want to get up off of my ass and make my life better but I can't
because what if it doesn't work?
what if I fall?
there is no safety net
The fall will never end
I will spiral into darkness for eternity

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Post Apocalypse #2

     Slept through the night for the first time in, I can't remember how long.  No sounds of battle or death or strange creatures lurking about to startle me awake at regular intervals.
     I'm beginning to think that the danger has passed.  I am afraid to let myself believe it.  I still cannot bring myself to venture outside.  Through the cracks in the boarded up windows, I see nothing.  All looks peaceful.  Almost too peaceful.  Could this just be the calm before the real storm begins?

Splendid Isolation

     Splendid Isolation.  It's good in moderation.  It is useful to lock yourself away from the world every now and then.  It is healthy to spend some time alone with yourself.  Get to know yourself.  Make friends with yourself.  You are your own best friend.  In the end, you are all you have.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Post-Apocalypse #1

These will probably be posted out of order at times so the title numbers just refers to this being the first excerpt from the series to be posted not the actual first journal entry.


     It had been a long time between meals.  The meat on the old man's fire smelled wonderful.  Almost intoxicating.  But those bones could only come from one thing.
     "Monster!" I called him
     "Abomination!"
     I had been raised with stories of what becomes of a man who consumes the flesh of another man.  "Ain't been out in the wastes too long have ya?"  came his calm reply.  "Out here it's about survival.  we eat all the animals.  What is a man really but just another animal?" 
     The gleam in his eye as he said that last bit set me running off into the darkness as far and as fast as my legs would carry me.  Afraid to stop or sleep for fear the old man or one like him might find me.   Anxious to be out of these infernal wastes and to find what was left of my home.

Phantom Stranger

     He hated driving through the desert.  No scenery.  Barely any other trucks.  No one around if things went wrong.  It was hard to stay awake even during the day and to top it off were all of the stories of strange happenings on the desert roads. 
     He wasn't a superstitious man, nor was he a non believer.  He supposed anything was possible.  A man can only hear so many weird stories before he begins to take them to heart.
     All of these thoughts were running through his head as he cruised through the hot desert night trying to find something besides static or religion on the radio. 
     Just as he looked up to check the road, vowing to get one of those satellite setups for his rig, he realized he wasn't along.  He could see someone out of the corner of his eye.  Knowing that panicking would mean crashing the truck and certain death, he forced himself to calm down.  Taking a deep breath, he stole a glance to his right.  It appeared as though he had picked up a passenger.  Unsure of what to do, he took another breath and turned his head to get a better look at this Phantom Rider.
     The ghostly figure looked to be in his fifties and wore a battered straw cowboy hat.  He didn't appear menacing so the driver kept driving.  He stole periodic glance to see if his passenger was still with him.  "so, where you headed stranger?" he asked a few miles down the road.  At the sound of the driver's voice, the phantom turned his head.  He broke out into a wide grin and gave a tip of his hat.  Before the driver's eyes he slowly faded away.
     It turns out that phantoms, like so many of us just want to be noticed.  

Firsts

     So I'm listening to "Feels Like the First Time" and I am wondering to myself "why is this a god thing?"  I know the first time was a long time ago, but here are the facts as i remember them.
     The girls was very aggressive(probably due to the alcohol).  The angle was awkward.  And i thought I broke my dick or at least seriously sprained it. 
     Because it's the first time, you can't just yell out "AaaarrrggghhhI broke my dick!"  You have to be cool and manly and make those whimpers of pain seem like happy fun sounds.  So I'm not sure I would ever want it to feel like the first time again. 
     It is much better these days.  Since i am in a healthy, stable relationship, I have no problem telling my fiancee "hey stop bending it!" without fear of ridicule.

Feel free to leave your amusing first time stories in the comments section.  ;-)

Begininings

Welcome.  Here you will find Snippets, Tidbits, Scenes and Scenarios that tumble from my crowded brain.  Enjoy and feel free to leave feedback.  Someday maybe these Fractured Visions will all come together but for now they remain mostly independent with the exception of the excerpts from my Post-apocalyptic journal in progress.