Wednesday, 15 February 2012


by Stormm

It started long before the gargoyles came. Dream Deceivers, a secret society

of priestly class had became discontent with just hoarding riches. Draining

others' power did not create more energy, so severely they reigned, seeking

perfection. Some wanted control over reality, others over souls. All wanted


As stagnant desolate years crawled by, Salphene forged a new weapon called

The Soulcraft. A weapon from the future, it alone would hold humanity's hope

for survival.

The weapon spoke and told a tale of hope amid despair.

"When angels fell ambitious slaves would tell, of times before the spell and

what was kept so well. Of secrets lost while treasures slept..."

"A Pope was growing old his handlers long foretold, sick from what he'd

known, yet to admit having lost his soul..."

"The Church Starts Endless War In Order For Preservation, fights every nation.

Centralization succumbs in frustration, selfless pop implodes."

By the arms of Orion swore the child, never to rest until Saturn has confessed...

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by Stormm

He's flying over land and sea now, beside clouds, in between mountaintops.

The Golden Sword spins above his head, point upright. Steering, it propels

them. Hands at his side standing silent both eyes closed, mudra locked

fingers and illuminated third eye wide open, transported by the weapon.

Pure will, onwards to do battle, onwards off to war...

The first sentinels detect their approach with mutual disbelief, a manchild

with vertical flaming sword over it's head. Both propelled by unseen forces.

Which was the source, man or sword? Must be some new magic, a

forbidden spell never before invoked. But how was this ever possible,

whence forth came the cause?

Friend or foe they chose not to know. Better to flee, than sound the alarm...

Standing tall sword in hand, Davini enters the gargoyles' lair. Alone unafraid,

he knows what must be done best be done quickly. Attack and slay Red

Queen While She Sleeps Deep Below. Strike before her triple heads stir, or

any of their six eyes should half open.

Ancient Ones Rest Fiercely Guarded, instinctively ever alert.

Remain tense, fearful of ambitious underlings...

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Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Supper's Ready

                                             Supper's Ready
by Stormm

It's dinner time, flat deck on a mountain's top. The gargoyle horde testingly flap

their wings, tails wagging in anticipation of the feast below. We savor the hour,

survey our glorious view, licking impatient lips.

Tongues slither out to slide along blood smeared castle tile, trailing scents,

narrow yellow slits glowing with glee. Scaly skin and mighty limbs tremble in


The exhilarating thrill of the kill, a blackened sky thick with legions. As we swoop

down upon defenceless prey with graceful precision. Snatch them up by steely

hooks, yanked away flailing and screaming.

Inside our lair, talons are slashing, the bones pile high. Fresh blood and guts

decorate cavern walls, limbs torn asunder, organs rupture. Scraps ripped to

shreds. Another savage orgy, of fleshly carnage...

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I'm Rich Bitch

                                           I'm Rich Bitch
by Stormm

"I'm rich" he half said to himself incredulously, beaming up and down, overflowing

with a bubbly confidence. Posing amid his plush exotic orbital luxury hotel lobby.

Excitedly caught up in the thralls of some recent new developments, soaks it all

up, revelling in the radiant boost of accomplishment.

He's actually pulled of his greatest con yet, the ultimate job, reaping a complete

total success beyond any and all expectations.

Inundated with bitch specialists now, mere sniveling insects who'll at the snap of

crisp fingers immediately scramble, running off to do his bidding. These ants

seem to enjoy wallowing in his presence, become momentarily alive, gain vague

purpose, ooze alertness. Some of the sycophants needing to hang on every word,

synchronize his passage compiling notes, immortalize utterances...

I own it all. Whatever I desire is readily available, now I'm ready for anything!

"Then perhaps I may be of service," prompts a curly redhead biracial woman with

thick lips and hips...

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Thursday, 9 February 2012

Rich Man Poor

                                                 Rich Man Poor
by Stormm

The wealthiest man rises in his glass tower, high above the ignorant masses.

Looking down at the hopeless fools below, gloating. Drunk on status and oh

so superior. Stares out at the beckoning wild frontiers of space, desperate to

own, programmed for control. His Imperial Majesty, the pinnacle of progress.

The Triumph of meticulous screening by millennia old selective breeding

programs. Culled from the best, trained by the best, even his brightest scientists

have officially proven, that it's all in the genes.

Generations of ruthless exploiters drain a growingly disgruntled public's life

force energy, but savor no benefits, feeling nothing in return. Burnt out and

depleted, numb one reality engineering zombies. Nevertheless, these insects

persist with increasing urgency, to continually manufacture lack and scarcity.

Masked overconfidence hidden behind a deep seated fear: how to maintain

control? sustain the fragile duration of yet another futile empire?

The general population has actually stopped consuming, as rabid, extremely

targeted marketing focus group approved ads desperately compete, shrieking:

"Even More New And Improved".

But where's the joy? as a dead society exercises zero creative impulse.

Something crucial and essential had long gone missing.

What's been lost, and why is he alone? Why so all alone....

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Wednesday, 8 February 2012

She's My Queen (Video Shoot)

                                     She's My Queen (Video Shoot)
by Stormm

The sign said "You Are Here Now," or is it "You Are Now Here?" We were at

Base Camp, o eleven hundred, upstairs overlooking Queen & Spadina, in


Grateful to get this perfectly sunny day in February, in Canada yo.

Maria did the makeup and watched our clothes while we shot several Fashion

District walking scenes. The shoot went perfect, except for one retail owner with

major attitude. Telling Jose the Cameraman and Actress Cecilia how, she did not

want us on her property, and didn't want any attitude from us.

All this during the first shot of the day, but we took it with stride and worked

around her limitations. After that, it was all smooth sailing.

Mid afternoon grabbed all our stuff and headed to Graffiti Alley. Shooting the

remainder of the day there. When we wrapped Jose said, "why are you smiling?"

That evening, celebrating Bob Marley's birthday, hanging out back at Hot Box

cafe with Trucker Dan, Diana said I was glowing...

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