2212 North Clark St.

A crowd gathers in the alley behind 2122 N. Clark St., as police remove the victims of the St. Valentine's Day massacre. — Chicago Tribune historical photo.

“The only person ever to celebrate Valentines Day right was Al Capone.”

-Ted Danson in ‘Becker’

“Plz don’t tell me, you are here to make things right.” 
“No. I’m not..... You are about to”.
 Most probably it was 19:15, when the last round was fired, in and out through the left eye. The first and the third were still in. Hale doesn’t usually mess up a shot but somehow it slipped, more like he misfired. Went straight for the groom’s face in the picture. His deep belief in superstition led to reckon that he might be the next soul to bare the shell. Hale was out of the ghetto by 20. And in his condo by 20:45. The crescent moon was at her ridge, as The Hale Madison of the Madison Avenue would intend, gullibly. Hale took a long, cold shower after that, on that winter’s night. Towel wrapped around his waist down, he sat down with a tumbler and the last bottle of red he usually saves in the end in his bedroom’s mini wine vault, to avoid the crisis of the lifeblood. And sat down with his favourite play, A Street Car Named Desire. His grandfather was a drastic man about the play. Hale used to visit his grandfather, father and Leo his big brother in State penitentiary a whole lot. And whenever his grandfather would perceive by the ear the loud and rather rugged voices asking, How come ya ain’t yet in ‘ere? His father and Leo would remark how the only ‘fair soul alive of the family was on a walk’. A glimpse of the Hale Madison was always a delight to those on a waiting-list to execution. Leaning back onto the futon, reminiscing those recollections he sorted as scenic he poured a glass and opened the book. No longer in the possession of the world forward, it was sure the night won’t last as long as the heart went even after the 8^th shot.

“Where on this Earth is this Madison?!” 
“He didn’t come in today. Didn’t he just, like texted to do the presentation just the way we think would be clever?”
 “Well, my love, we are under the control of Hale Madison! If you actually know who that is!”
 The office seemed like the battle field during Prohibition, in Burma to be precise. Hale had no way to avoid base today. He gotta be there. Hence, let it be. “If only somebody slit my throat with that axe.” He pointed at the one above the couch and beside the original theatre picture of Gypsy Rose Lee, without paying the consideration.  
“I would be happy to do the honours. Wait, ya have an axe in your office!?” remarked Hale’s firm partner Art Mallard, with a snort. 
“Enough trash talk. Why the hell am I in here on a friggin’ Sunday?” 
“Summer messed up with the Wall’s contract. We might be out.”
 “Don’t give a damn about the Wall’s. Did we have the Broadwood’s?” The long pause from the opposite side of the conference table kind of inquired his ego. 
“Nailed it.” “Did you, Jameson?” “Yes, sir!” It just seemed worthless to give a response related to the deals.
 You win some, you lose some. Acquiescing with the reality was the only option Hale Madison had. If not interminable rather for the time being. There were not more to the occurring down at Bronx. There couldn’t be. That is all he could think of as he was walking out of the headquarter and down the elevator. Maybe I’m worrin’ too much. Need a drink. Strong one. Devil, come in ma favour, man! Not like I sacrificed not ‘nuff. Neuralgia wasn’t halting him from ‘drinking like a fish’. He is more like, who’s talkin’ abt what with who now? Well, adds another sterling pro for being a bewitching, yet hunk billionaire.

“7 gunshot wounds, only one through and through.”
 “Any relatives? Next of kin?”
 “An ex-husband in the Avenue.” 
“Got any ID?” 
“Yeah. Mel Burn Milton. 36, Latin descendent.” 
“Get Hale Madison down to the Station, can ya?”
 “So your obsession now has taken a serious and fatal turn, where every single murder in this area has been committed my Madison, huh?” 
“No! Take a butch at all the diaries and notepads and almost anything in here. They are all from the Madison Firm.”
 “Wow! Nice work. Okay.” 
Detective Cyril Yale, NYPD. That compact interaction with the forensic Dr. Sky made it quite easy to find the first suspect. 5 years in this ground and his first suspect that didn’t came with the lookout in the database for anything at all. Please, God, let him be the murderer. He grumbled to himself while walking towards the Cadillac parked on the opposite of the road. Yale would be a fascinating epitome of an investigator in New York if he can get this fourth Madison in for 25 to life. Yale’s father and grandfather, Danny Sr. and Jr. made name for themselves through the notorious family, The Madisons. The Yales and the Madisons. The feud between the ancestors might be a just a bit older than time itself.

On the way home, Hale stopped by one of those liquor store in the lower east side of Manhattan, which is named something entirely un-spell-able. As it was entirely reverse of his abode and it was also the dark venue where he wasn’t quite welcome. Hale bought a magnum of cherry brandy, 2 bottles of grenadine and one of the Asti Spumante. Special Italian wine from the Asti region of the country. Hale had always been an oenophile. Nothing seemed out of the unremarkable while his little walk to his Jaguar. However, as his hands touched the steering wheel, it felt like someone was here. And still was. Like a breathing, deep breathing. He looked at the rear view mirror; nothing was behind him or in the passenger seat. And then it hits him, déjà vu. Hale ignored that feeling and initiated the car and kept crossing red lights. Counting the last one would be the third. Not a single one of the patrol cars chasing him. That meant there might be some other catastrophe occurring elsewhere. Hale’s lax mind fell under the impression that he shall stop at the precinct. As soon as the security guard noticed the wine coloured Jaguar, he rushed inside and called Miko. Hale hired Miko Torres to find the details related to The St Valentine’s Massacre. Warren Madison, Hale’s grand-father was with Al Capone at the time of attack, back in 1929 in Chicago. Warren thought right before giving himself up to the law, It is enough already! Just let it be! Hale is still just as much unperturbed as his grandfather been every night for those years. Miko gave a little shot to running towards the car on the opposite side of the road. Hale came out soon as he was hand-length far. 
“Both the Thompsons, serial number 2347 and 7580 are in St. Joseph, Michigan.”
 “Say WHAT now?! You’ve got be yankin’ ma chains, lad.” 
“Yeah? What its Christmas already? Nope, I am as serious as Bugs. Couple of my associates will be expecting you mid next week.”
 “Hah. You think it would be hysterical to send me on valentines, didn't ya?”
 “If you do have to know, a lot man! Also was also hoping that would break the record of Al’s valentine record.” 
“Ya bet I’ll!”

“...sometimes you just gotta accept who ya are. Ya gotta move on. Move on with life. Ya know where ya came from. And ya do know it’s a package deal, all these shits come with that. It’s gonna tear limb from limb. Just this night, tomorrow all shitty things will find its way back. Just tonight. C’mon! Be a man, you son of a bitch! Men don’t sob, jerk! Every minute passed hoping that I can and I will sleep without the lights on. Not all knows all of’em excruciating moments of life. They get better. Life will get better. Every single thing in it will get better. Maybe trying to change will work? Ohh, what the hell, that ain’t solvin’ no shit. If anythin’, they’ll get worse...”

That was most likely the last entry before Hale graduated summa cum laude from Oxford University. In media studies. After exterminating reading the play last night, he found this piece of paper in ten fold. It was bizarre enough for Hale to find that module from his daily notes from the remote. Including discovering it in the last page of the play, across-the-board, it was simply ludicrous. After graduating and leaving the address, he burned every single of his memorandum. Except this, perhaps, was not forgotten. The person in front of the camera never can have a hidden life. Hale ‘Bullet’ Madison somehow manages one.

            The ride home was just as repetitive as the silent orange oak on the east wing of this 35,000 sq feet ranch, in Park Avenue. What the ‘ell? As if his subconscious was calling his awareness to check out the wonder. Hale turned a blind eye to the fact that he was completely some place else. Blackout Hale was actually started to walk towards that ranch. The doors were inlayed with pure silver. The bow downed lions each of side of the door were a mixture of plaster to form it, and sand, for the inscription of the features. The ranch was quite a perpendicular with a touch of post-modernism enigma. Hale couldn’t go any more as the alarms were starting to go off. He went back, with a little run to catch up to the car. Which was remarkably parked, 10 metres away. Walking toward his desire, he could actually taste the other couple of ears and eyes other than his, were minuted by else. Rather than gettin’ his hands in the glove box after getting in and take out the Desert Eagle .50 calibres, he puts his hands on the steering wheel and drove on.

            On his 4^th traffic signal, his phone rang. 
“Everythin’ goin’ good? I've been tryin’ for...like an hour!”
 “Yup. All calm and kickin’.” Mira Isla Murray, Hale’s doxy. Or, perhaps, it shall go like this, a fellow admirer. Every motive for the U-turn taken by Hale Madison every-time that phone rings and the name flashes up like the concert lights of Beyoncé.
“Ya free tonight?”
“C’mon, H. You are a big boy now. You can take care for a night.”
 “Not necessarily...”
            Hale Madison was home by 23 and his car was in the garage by 23:03. He was in the house by 23:07, when Miranda was an hour early.
“How again, do you know my security password?”
“Well, let’s see. Since when had your phone calls were so irresistible?”
 “Forever?”
“Uhhuh... I think we both answered each others questions.”
“Remind me again why we broke up?”
“We were never together, Hale”.
 It was the first time; Murray came as soon as Madison demanded her. Hale threw his coat on the couch and walked towards Mira. His cold, rough hands ran up her thigh to inside her fitting deep purple dress. Unhooking her bra, he runs his hands all over her body, kissing. By the time the clock showed 23:10, the foreplay had turned into a Broadway play of “Fifty Shades of Grey”. Somewhat the passion facilitated the period of time between sunset and sunrise, to neglect to expire as it is usual in autumn.

                The alarm was set for 8:15. One of the peculiar things that Madison won’t ever do even if he’s out, out of his senses. Mira. He thought, richly, neither delighted nor despondent. As soon was he was out of the bed and up on his own, the only thing left was her deep concentrated eau de cologne. Nothing was in one piece, not even his Blackberry. From the mahogany coffee table on the west side of the living room to the security system. She turned on him, as that could credibly the only justification given every single this is either broken or bended or burning, at that precise moment which he had no ethos of at the moment. Even the report from Miko was far gone into the smoke. Ohh what on heaven’s name, even his optimum H&M was nowhere to be seen, if not burned down to ashes. Nothing was there. Then come the matter that wasn't lost. The rich trail of kerosene coming from the living room, presumably. Well....which also mercilessly included the gaudy inferno. Not a bad indoor bonfire, I must add!

To be continued...

Þ    This is a work of fiction with a non-fiction background.

Þ    Not all the incidents and facts are mentioned in part one.

Þ    Barely any conjecture is presented in the mention of the incident.

Þ    The serial number mentioned and further details are facts, not fiction.

Þ    The Saint Valentine's Day Massacre is the name given to the 14^th February 1929 murder of six mob associates and a mechanic of the North Side Irish gang led by Bugs Moran during the Prohibition Era. It resulted from the struggle — between the Irish American gang and the South Side Italian gang led by Al Capone — to take control of organized crime in Chicago. Former members of the Egan's Rats gang were also suspected of having played a significant role in the incident, assisting Capone.

Mountain Hill Forest V

               I woke up at exactly 7 in the morning. Before I can even process what in the blazes was happening, the brightest sun in history peeked through my window curtains and made my room look like the ballroom of Titanic! There were lovely dandelions, blue bells and daffodils in water on my bedside table with a pair of brand new car keys. So, as I'm an auto enthusiast, my instinct told me to check which brand. And it spelt with utter pleasure, Pagani Zonda. I could already fill my blood boiling! So, I rushed down without gazing anywhere and went out the door to the garage. And there it stands, a barking mad, exuberant 600+ horsepower, twin-turbo engine sport car in dark grey! It spoke for itself. I couldn't wait to get my hands on this, but as I love following my head, I needed to go back in first. So, I did. 

"Good morning, car craze!"
"Sam?! Wha... What are you doing here? I.." he seriously scared the shit outta me!
"Hey ho! Calm down, child! I can't take so many surprised faces in a day. You all look like you've seen a rat swallowing a cobra or something."
"You still alive? How...wha.."
"I know. Heat did a great job keeping me alive, huh? Anyway, made breakfast, care for some?"
"Hmm.."
                Sam Bradford. Classmate of Heather, back in high school. Heat has made the Alasdairs cast hundred and thousands of different spells to keep her whole clique alive. Sam was one of the intelligent and diabolical philosopher from all. Marilyn Ralph, Sara Trevor, Fergus Louise Dawn, Mark Hubert, Sandy Isobel Bob Ashley, Sebastian Rex and Nora Mavis, Sam Bradford and Heather Burt Maurice, The Nebula Nine...! They, literally, knows a whole lot better than the Devil.
"Met Heat. That girl hasn't changed a bit!"
"Well, that's what the evils does. What about the war?"
"What war?"
I tried not to create any suspicion,"Then where is my car?"
"Are you alright? The town tank accidentally drove over your car. And I thought of giving you a pre-birthday gift. Don't you remember anything?"
"What? Yeabsolutely I remember all! Just kidding!
               I WAS NOT! Lucifer had deleted the war. I mean, he changed the whole time, from the time they broke my Evoque! That son of a bitch! He also cleared this thing out that, Heather is a demi-goddess crap. He will but his powers on line and save something that is totally useless! What the hell could've gone wrong? Just bring you claws, fangs, apparently in Heat's case, wings and kill them with it! They were, possibly taken aback by that spoiled brat! With a really hot head, I gobbled some waffles up and vroomed my new rocking car down the leafy jungle. Luckily, found Heat on the way.
"Yo, yo Virgi! Let's talk, mademoiselle! Why bring out the claws and fangs and growls?"
"What was wrong if I just tear their heads apart? When I had a chance?"
"No, there are other things that need to be done before. Something I don't feel the urge to inform. How's Sam doin'?"
"He's doing good."
"Okay. So listen. The Casters are here so please act out in your head. We are not in the situation to take another curse now."
                The Alasdairs are the Satanist but they are kind of more powerful than us hybrids. They cursed us for me being 'irresponsible'. We can never leave Mountain Hill and the wolves can't the Forest. 7 granddaughters, 3 grandsons, 2 sons and daughter-in-laws, 1 daughter and son-in-law, wife and Mr. Norman Alasdair. That old nagging hag can throw a whole 18-wheeler!
"Oh my memento mori! How are you, dear?"
"I'm fine and glad to be your reminder! Heather told me what you all can do and how megalomaniac you all are! Pardon me, but I can't stay!"
"Why dearie, you gotta be somewhere else to burst off nuclear reactors?"
"No, actually you see, I really can't miss the new WWE title shot match and rematch. And Ultimate Warriors documentary. May he rest in peace! Au revoir~"
               So, I went on my own thinking what could possibly be there she doesn't want to tell anyone? Wishing it is not me and my stuffs, I geared up and went around the city for the night. It wasn't anything important Heat would waste her time and thoughts into. Just some stuffs who breaths and eats and does a lot other stuffs. And waiting for another sunrise of staying alert and waiting to meet my Maker before anything unfortunate events takes place.






                                                                                                                                    to be continued...

Those Mannequins.

              "Whoever said money can't buy you happiness, simply didn't knew where to shop."



          As it seemed, whenever we state the word "shopping" in sentence or a conversation it incontrovertibly gives out a referral idea that the particular person is either talking about clothes or grocery shopping. But it necessarily doesn't have to mean that, but it  rather seemed to be bound within these two options. Let's just get to the main point. Shopping is actually a therapeutic and relaxing for the mind who can afford it. And shopaholics, to whom, all the mannequins in the shop on the display window just looks like they are tantalizing them and inciting them to buy. Shopping is an quintessential priority in a lady's life. They ought to think, "that on single pair of Louboutin can make me look like Iggy Azalea." They are women, after all. And also another thing that doesn't really go with their whole busy day schedule. Is that actually going to the shop. And for those shopaholic who earns just enough 'kale' to support themselves but the mannequin won't stop waving at you wearing on that sleeve-less blue maxi. Just hopeless. Rather than spending your valuable time behind shops to shops , which you can give to your work or significant other is just absurd. 
          Hence, any other substitute yet substantial way of shopping with pleasure shall have to be online shopping. People tends to wonder, how can online shopping be a substitute way of shopping. But I know a lot of people who would actually argue on the information advantages of online shopping. But then again, I am a person of my own interests. So, I thought of weighing down the pros and cons of several international and national online  shopping related websites. Yet the result was amusing. The pros were more relevant to the topic than the disadvantages. Online shopping seemed to contain the following. 
          Fewer traps, convenient, open service 24/7, unlimited size, options to choose from, discreet shopping, save time and hassle and plenty more. Sizes matters a lot in a society like ours. We only have 2 kinds of sizes, under weighed and truck. And all garments company just being anti-obese and supplying and importing Arianna Grande T-shirts. And actually asking for a bigger size than usual can be a bit of embarrassment. On the other hand, online shopping is providing you with vast amounts of varieties in products. In sizes, colours and label clothes. It is also giving you a chance to compare the product with other organization's products and it's value. Practical shops literally needs to have that sale for you to be able to buy that skinny pair of jeans. 
          Online shopping stipulates you with their better buying price. However, the most prominent and profitable advantage about online shopping would be, their 24/7 open service. You can shop anything for anywhere at any time. Online shopping websites does earns another star in their ratings for that advantage. World-class products with better prices and you don't even have to wait. I can assure you, the only thing that you might be missing from the enjoyment of the shopping is those mannequins won't be waving at you anymore, while you shop at home in ease. :)

Mountain Hill Forest IV

                  

                   I waited a moment or two before answering the call. He argues with a lot of logic, according to his knowledge. So, I thought some of his discreet secrets to shut his mouth. 

"What?"

Don't growl on the phone, please? (clears his throat) Luce's here."

"I know."

"KNEW IT! He came by your house first." I am an idiot!

"So?"

"Just wanted to make sure everything's alright. Try to plan something differently the next time I call you."

"Ughh.."

He is one hell of a Vamp. I seriously don't remember the last time I won in a debate with this egocentric.

                  Meanwhile, outside, the Harvest moon was up and shining in it's own happiness and elated. Making the night red as blood. Wolves were howling west to east. Vampires, getting into each others head, spreading the news about the arrival of the Devil. Unusual beta howling caught me by surprise, coming from the south-east direction. I went out on the main road to the forest to translate his growling. "It began". I had no freaking idea WHAT had began, so I ran inside, took my car keys and as usual, BROOM! While I was driving, I remembered the incident the last time the Devil was here. Back in the Greek myth time, the Centaurs of the West Wood made a pact between the devil and themselves, the 3rd arrival of the Devil he should announce war between every fellow creatures because they are harming the nature. I don't remember do that! Otherwise, they would do the honour. And they are on the way here to do the honour. The natural transportation of the news about Lucifer stopped. 

                  12 blocks of night walkers, staring at me, detecting. The Harvest moon was becoming stronger. The devil once messed with one of the maiden-goddess of the Olympus. Artemis (Diana), the twin sister of Apollo, daughter of Leto and Zeus. She has been symbolized as the Lady of Wild Things. Heather had been called the daughter of Artemis since. She does have "superpowers" but I don't think she's perfect enough to be a demi-goddess. Poets identifies Artemis with Hecate. "Goddess with three forms". She is Selene in the sky (the moon goddess), Artemis on earth and Hecate in the lower world, wrapped in darkness. Hecate is the Goddess of the Dark of the Moon. She had a strange ability to transform from a lovely huntress to a evil soul of the night. The uncertainty between good and evil was vivid shown in herself. The Cypress was sacred to her and her favourite animal was the deer.

                The Centaurs. Half man, half horse. Well-known for being savage and wild. Chiron, one of them, were well known for being better and his goodness. The Sileni were the father of Satyrs and had a part in the pact. They have no story but they have been known from the drawings in Greek vases. The last time I remember the wrath of the Centaurs were, INSANE! I mean, the throws banyan tree's logs at us! Mad cows!!! 

                I entered the forest from the well side. It is actually an graveyard of the immortals. Disobeying creatures were burnt down there long ago. That was the safest entrance cause the mad cows were already on their way. It was walking distance so I parked my Rover and started to walk. It was 8 in my watch. I wasn't even 20 steps away and a huge crack-head just crashed my rover! "F*** off!!!" A Centaur just squashed my car. Sweetheart, they are gonna pay! As I tried to expand my view, there came hundreds and thousands of full raged animals prepared for war. They were serious and they weren't gonna accept failure until they get the blood of Zex on there swords.

                                                                                                      to be continued...

Mountain Hill Forest III

                 "He's here!" It was the devil, after all. Strong, abrasive and lady killing creator. He was still mumbling something I just didn't wanted to hear. Some GT 500 Mustang up behind honked its horns, deliberately. And as usual by the time I rotated my head from back to front, viola! Gone, vanished, never existed! It actually made me think about the first time I met him. Black t-shirt and navy blue jeans. Honestly, devils were supposed to look evil and bad and supposedly ugly and naked. But not like David Beckham or Matthew McCoughnahay  when both of them were in their late 30's! He kinda gave out a "peace" vibe. Devils are immortal, never knew before I was turned into one of the demons! Lucifer was really cool and effervescent. Now, he's just comatose of people not believing that Satan is there. the human here thinks there is no devil here anymore. Especially after the West Wood mass murder. It is true that this town had been gregarious about a year now, presumably. Now, here I am thinking and the Mustang's honking! "Ha. He's back." I was aiming for a sigh of scared and afraid but it turned out to be a sigh of relief. Somewhere deep inside me I was relieved. He was back after a really long time. With new strategy or maybe a killer plan this time for real. Pulled my car already and on the way home.
               Devil, people often reckons, "Yeah, evil. Devil, the killer of good things!" But it is more like, "Satan..! Ahhhhhh...!" The goes demented. Devil isn't always the main trouble human faces. It is his demons. They are the real players. These demons of the devils are some serious crack-heads! They had been literally handling the tiny businesses down on earth from the scrupulous statements in both the Old and New testaments. We are a part of the demonic spirits but rather more vicious. The cursed one, disobeying the evil and tried to do evil itself, thinking it's better than His.
                Devil or Satan is the supernatural entity that is indelible in Christianity, Islam and Judaism. Mainly, Satan is based on the beliefs of Christianity and Islam. Jewish people considers Satan, doesn't gives much attention. Jehovah or whatever the name is of god had stated in both the testaments that, Devil is the destroyer of mankind. He have exactly 37 faces applied in natural evilly form. Something on the road, I can't really recall, reminded me of the devil and his damsel, Heather. They fell in love the first time they realized, we are evil, we should be together! They didn't last long. Just 107 years to be exact. Not much in fiction years. They used to be inextricable and inductable. Their actions together could effect the whole mankind in a blink. But separated, the devil and Zex feels inertia to do evil! "I got over it", he says when he can't defeat an army of "immoral" demons in hell! They were usually the subjects of the rumours in Mountain Hill. Because of a being a kinky-knack couple. They are the couple with really wealthy families and had been in love for eternity. Their love story used to be a joke of our hunting/camping dinner in the woods. The ineradicable truth, they lacks something without each other but refuses to believe it! Zex, according to the whole tribe, had been somehow betrayed by the actions that Luce took in the 1976's West Wood mass murder. Something never left that battle field and is causing us people in the tribe trouble.
                 "Ouch! Ahh..! Shit!" Scratched my Rover Evoque deep! CAUTION: Never think about the Devil and his Damsel while freaking driving! Looks like he personally doesn't likes it! Parked it in my garage and walked up the steps and as I was going to glide my door card, guess who was sitting on my $34,000 dollar designer couch (not that it isn't for sitting!) and my crystal glass coffee table in the centre had his legs on it! The creepy devil. He is gone for sure now!
"What have I done now to deserve this infuriating pleasure?"
"Nothing. Just here to see how you were doing. Brought some fine, vintage white wine, your favourite."
"Oh, okay!"
"Didn't visited Heat yet. Thinking just to get back together. Dillon is talking about that plague again, need to defeat Rhody this time!"
"What are you seriously doing here? Heat busted your a** off again?"
"Ha. You seem to be improving in guessing! Well, I am serious about getting back, hence was hoping to get your opinion about the decision I was hoping to make."
"It is your life, Luce. You have the right to do whatever you want to do. Just don't hurt Heather again."
"It is nice to see you care! Okay, kiddo"
               Well, he left discretely, leaving me with an option to drink that vintage wine. It is not exactly vintage if you were alive at that time and be the same still! I poured some wine on my favourite coffee mug, the one with the face of Criss Angel. The best and only illusionist of 21st Century! I don't really like drinking wine in a wine glass. I like drinking blood there, though! I sat on my couch lazily, thinking about what Lucifer said about getting back. Not that I care much, but rather if it was something he should do before the plague. While I was lost in my dreamagination (dream+imagination), I found myself looking at my (freakin' good) iPhone 10ZX. And it was ringing, and a name usually appears. Well, one did which I seriously didn't wanted to see now! Bravo.



                                                                                                                           



                                                                                                                           to be continued...

A Dead Dream.

              Boxing is a sport started back in the Egypt in 2nd millennium BC. It is actually bare fist fighting between 2 willing and sometimes unwilling opponents. Fighting had been around before the discovery of boxing. The interests of the Romans made it a spectator sport. They started to wrap leather thongs around their fist. It have 3 minutes each rounds usually 12 but formally 15. The knock-out was introduced in this sport. It is declared a KO if one of the fighter doesn't rise before the referee counts to ten. And the other fighter is announced the knock-out winner. There are different types of fighter and fighting style. Out-fighter, boxer-puncher, counter puncher, brawler and in-fighter. The best in between in the professional world is brawler or slugger. I'm a counter puncher. Slippery defense style fighter who usually relies on their opponent mistakes to gain advantage! Well, this kind of boxer welcomed most in the amateur world. there are plenty of techniques and styles. As I am an amateur boxer, the steps that I love doing are, stance: upright crouch. Punches: jab and uppercut. Defense: bobbing and blocking and the least over cutting. Also I love counter-pointing. Upright crouch means the spread out position of yourself before the match starts and over cutting is the most difficult and irritating move in the history!There is usually a square ring but exceptional organizations like the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) usually prefers the Octagon, an eight cornered ring with is best. There is this boxing hall of fame which had been a part of me since I was young. The Hall of Famers and my all time favourites like Henry Armstrong, Sugar Ray Robinson, Ricardo Lopez, Benny Leonard, etc made me believe that boxing is just the starting of a life.
               To be exact, I am a huge and gigantic fan of wrestling. Wanted to be a wrestler since Dave Bautista debuted! Cause that was the time I got what all those fight meant. But the it was kinda crushed by some unwanted company. So I started again and rather than making it a dream this time, I made it a hobby. A hobby with a new identity. 'member my first injury, interacted muscle on my left foot. It was pathetic but bearable. And also had a crush on my coach which still is on! ADVICE: If you are thinking of boxing and is a female, choose the one with the old coach or female coach! Cause a single fighting won't be done first 20 days. There is only one organisation for amateur boxing, International Boxing Association. Also for professionals. But the incontrovertible is that, I don't like to fight with women cause it is always nasty and hair pulling in the middle of a match! Hate that thing! Hence, here I am with a dream of accomplishing both writing and boxing and staying single! Just kidding! Life can be hard sometimes and you just gotta play the way it wants you to play. And in the ring, "Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee!"-Muhammed Ali. Legend immortal! ;-D

Mountain Hill Forest II

                                 The next morning, the sunlight was just breaking in. I discovered myself buried under some really "good" books about demons and angels! Well, in human language, the whole 7 feet 5 inch mahogany wood bookshelf was over me, the time I was conscious. This was one of the adroit method of drugging me (I assume) and bringing me here from the forest, noted by, none other than the "Zex" It is a creature, furious, vengeful crack-head that itself doesn't have the knowledge of what it does to itself and the people around it! With this thought, I removed the pieces of broken woods and books over me. Simultaneously brushing the dust off of me. Felt like having a drink, water. As I was walking up to the dining table, the calender was on the way there. Just was hoping that it was Sunday, and luckily it was. Didn't wanted to get out of the house, and just right at that moment, guess what happened. There was nothing to eat and I had a choice. Either get out of the house and go to the mart or swallow my neighbour's heart. I was wide awake and my head was in the game. So, mart it was. "Miss Virginia Valentine, you have a guest in wait. Shall the door be opened?" Funny, what this century doors can do. It actually reminded me off the time when guards used to walk up 3 floors to inform the Highness that someone has arrived. And, trust me, it was way before Henry the Eighth! I "answered" the door without thinking once, what if it was her again. What if she is really gonna end it this time and what if it wasn't someone I wasn't suppose to meet. Alas, it just turned out to be the person I wasn't suppose to meet, Heather Maurice AKA Dido Raydore. The Zex.

"I don't know, is this a right time to be here? Sorry about last night." 

It was her lucky day that I don't remember a shit from last night, except me turning. Or otherwise, I would've gone all Uma Thurman on her, by now!

"Yeah, why not? It's not like you would give a damn, would you?"

"You are right, indeed, I wouldn't." after a long, hollow pause. "Anyway, have you seen the movie Star Trek into Darkness? Fascinating! You ought to see the act of Ben Cumberbatch, as Khan."

"Are you advising me to watch a 21st century fiction movie? I did saw it and you can cut the crap!" Dido moved from the wreck to the couch and sat down, slowly. Sensing and looking around.

"You are a creature splendid. Marvellous, the way you ignore the troubles of the pack. The dilemmas of the family, etc. The way you avoided the truth and the murderer of Seth and Vera"

"Are you seriously suggesting that I don't care about there murder?" I responded illogically.

"Yes. And if you, in heavens name, did cared than you would't let the murderer escape right in front from you! I know you, your urges. You know, every time I see you, you amaze me with your abilities and aura. You make me feel like the Creator again!" she said it, as her eyes brightened.

"I'm honoured to make you feel like that." I said that with full sarcasm. Dido was clearly stating to give her the case. I wasn't easy and besides I had a plan. I also knew the moment the case was given to Dido, it would be solved, just like that. But I wanted her to go through what I've been through. What I had wanted to get rid of for so many decades. The pain of being left out! The witness and evidences are all in my basement. Some in my drawers where other, sticked to the electrical patches connected with a generator. I was way too debilitated to find out who killed them. Too vulnerable and out of mind.

"Alright, than. Do whatever suites you. And put some ice on that neck of yours. It looks like a bloody mess!" she left without any killer thoughts, like she usually does.

                                  It was kind of peculiar of her, to say to take care of the bite wound she made, that she sensed, I didn't noticed! Man, I'm really is an idiot to think that she would drug somebody, when her fangs are more poisonous than a cobra's. Mythical Creatures, huh? My head envisioned, I clean the mess and go to the mart before I start eating myself!

                                  The counter girl. Dark blue eyes. Brunette and looked little scared about something that happened at her home last week. A fight. My hearing after last night seems to become more weak. One of "my" ancestors once quoted, "If a creature given by the Demon weakens in any topic, won't have long". That said, I heard one of her thought, crystal clearly! Would she say yes if I ask her to dinner tonight? She looks straight to me, if not, than its good, right? She was asking all of these questions to herself. Truth to be told, I did pictured her as a homosexual but said to myself, None Of My Business! Guess, it is a business of mine, after all. Her name plate said, July. By the time I read her name and looked at her, she extemporaneously asked, 

"You look acquainted! Do I know you?" What a question, for Jimmy Fallon's sake! She wasn't cognizant that I was something not a cogitation! Thus, I replied, with comicality, 

"Even Count Dracula said the same thing to me!" (He didn't, he made a poker face and then fed on me!) Hence I startled her, in a amusing way to me, and unfortunately a cynical way to her! But it oozed the pain on the neck out a little. I was certain she would work faster, and she did. In total items, six. 3 six-packs, 2 bottles of Oxycontin and a really pricey bottle of brandy (by the time I was at the mart, I suddenly had a crave for a fox!). So, she quickly inserted all the items into a grocery bag and handed it to me. I walked swiftly to my Land Rover and was initiating the car. I carelessly, noticed a man in his 60's (20 hands far), wearing a green t-shirt and a sleeveless sweater in black, staring at me, blank, and mumbling something. It was Portuguese, perchance. It was blur, the words, but my hearing ability limits within the range of a mile and a half. The 2 things that were right, I didn't knew the man and I wasn't able to hear him, but my blood thirst wasn't there either! It was 10:24 in the morning, in my mobile. I had been hungry for almost 6 hours now. But the blood thirst and the hunger for meat wasn't even near the boarder of South Carolina! And the only logical explanation incorporated in my head was that, it wasn't a human. Neither ferocious animals like us. It was rather something forceful, powerful and unattackable. I could feel, it was something we revered. And the only thing the nosferatus, lycanthrope and many other god-knows-what-they-are-called creatures were devoted to, can only be distinct. Like, Mephistopheles.

                                                                                                                              to be continued...

Mountain Hill Forest.

                                   

                                       

                                      Raining heavily, didn't brought my umbrella or rain coat. So, equal to disaster. It was 24th December the day to sign the confidentially of my magazine, Dean-ery. And I was dressed nice and elegantly and was trying to be a human as hard. Or like one. I knew the make-up was 2 shades darker than it was supposed to be, by the time I hit the elevator. But it wouldn't bother people much in this black day. Well, as long as I can keep it inside me, what I was. 7:45 in the evening, rain droplets are feeling a little heavier than it normally is. Right by the garbage cans and the truck parked paralleled, James Falcon, my new neighbour, almost new was standing to say something. "Hey Virginia! Where have you been these days? Long time no see!" Visions of mine these 7 and a half months are being too accurate. Right after the incidents with Kara. The smell of James from about 3 feet approximately burned my throat, neck and shoulder off. That is the strongest I've felt til now. The feeling of uneasiness was appearing. Vividly and conspicuously. Hiding it, in my case, had always been the hardest. And the better plan the ghoul in my head gave was, "Finish it!"

                                     He was huge and beefy. A day meal for a skinny like me. It would be hard to finish him here or to glide him to my apartment. There was only one way possible, run or wait. Well, true or not, that's what I read in Twilight: Midnight Sun! In this case it wasn't a classroom full of students and a vamp. But rather a hybrid a man and an exclusive amounts of garbage and it's repulsive smell, for that matter! "Gotta go. Late for work!" saying that, ran to my car like a Nascar and got into my Land Rover and drove as fast as I can to the Mountain Hill Forest. Or jungle, for humans.

                                     45 minutes late for my work, and who on earth would have knew that a human can take me back to the investigation? Besides, need a dinner before going to work, right? 

 "Yo, Vir. Very special timing of yours to come down here, ain't it?" Milo said it with pride and a little wish for a fight.

 "Shut the f*** up, Milo. Me being here is non of your god damn business, I reckon! Where is Dillon?"

 "Calm down. The Harvest Moon is near so drop your temper bombs that night. Calm down now!"

 "Who are you telling to calm down, Milo? She's the worst of her mum and dad and the best of them, aren't you my love?"

 "Can you please cut the crap and listen to me? And the time I'm finished, I want a dear or a hiker in front of me!"

 "As your wish, ma lady. Milo. Go before she swallows the whole forest. Don't howl and go now!"

 "By the way, has Bravo came here last night or the day when Vera and Seth died?"

 "You know that they gave birth to you, so you lawfully got the permission to call them 'mum' and 'dad'!"

 "They didn't kept the situation for me to call them that and like hell I'm goin' to!"

 "Hmm. About Bravo..."

 "Somebody called me?" Bravo, a vamp and a anti-wolf! He just brought up the 16th century Lycan vampires war ritual.

 "Ha. Look at you! Looking all hairy and ah, meaty! So, where was your "Alpha" when you were out last night? And possibly came here?"

 "Who on earth gave you that info?"

 "Do you have alibi? Or anyone who would be my dinner before work?"

 "Ho, I should have kept one of the Hyenas alive, to alibi me out, right, Detective Beckett?"

 "Will you two stop arguing? Just tell her the truth, Bravo! And...!"

                                        And the full moon was on its peek, waiting to rise and shine. I stood there, clasping my claws and preventing myself from turning into a huge hybrid. I was six feet to be exact, so transforming right now would mean something worst. The moon light came upon the ground and lit up the River just 30 feet away from where I was, Bravo on other hand was gone, howling. There I stood with Dillon and myself for the moon to rise full and me, bursting into a beast, and obviously getin' my magazine deal cancelled! Man, It was my last chance, about the deal! But a shadow from above appeared out of nowhere. A figure of a huge eagle.

                                                                                                                                                                             to be continued.....

Friend, Fun, Flavour!

The 1st best friend that I had was in 2005. She was like the world's greatest friend anyone could ever have! There wasn't any less fun than 'The Hangover'. Well, except the drinking and leaving on the roof top of a re-known casino or got a tiger in the bathroom or got a baby in a cupboard or stuffs like that. But that memories that we had is all surrounded by food. We are chatty and compassionate, with food, we are just some of the deadly enemies from the 'Transporter' When we were young, I remember fight with Maryum about out tiffin. I was the bigger eater but she knew karate, man! My pasta and her cheese toasted sandwiches, when we were in a good mood we shared nicely. Otherwise...! And by the end of tiffin period, we had a smile on our face as huge and broad like the Hoover Dam. Maryum had a special side of her. She used to (I think she still does!) had these weird thoughts like, if there was a good-looking man was passing by, she would whisper in my ears and say, "I just had this vision that this man's gonna go shirt-less and kick our teacher's ass!" As all her thoughts weren't hilarious, weird and lame, it was the glue that made us stick together. The difference were, between us, she loves food the way it is made naturally and I love creating something new out of the old taste and adding a new texture, just like I love doing with my writing! Writing is a part of both of us, in a different way. Mine is blogging and writing in a piece of paper. Her was in Facebook! Which was, is and will be annoying! But it was always, "Friends are only best friends, when there is the word, FOOD's present!!! At least in my life!"

Lone Wolf Years II

It was the peace, back than!

Time to time my life started to change. It started to swallow the strong, hard truth. My younger brother was born in 2009. I thought he was the only reason I should look back. But he wasn't. When I got addicted to music and pencil sketching, it felt like the only way out of my family. Mum hated dad and vice versa. Their everyday fight made me wanna leave it all behind and run where my eyes landed. At home it was mum and dad, at school friends and teachers. One or two friends in particular, stood up. So did a teacher. They wanted to help but they were as much scared of the alpha as I was! Songs of Michael Jackson, Cristina Aguilera, One republic, Gavin DeGraw were some kind of energy that made you believe. I still want to go good with music but now it is just a old buried deep memory that nobody cares about. After I left music, it was words that gave me the answer of who I am. But this writing passion is only broaden to my blog and G-mail. Writer's Cafe, Writer's Discussion Group and Writers Corner. My mum loves to compare me with others. She comes up to my room and goes all yappity yippity yap about our neighbours kids and her family and the students of our society, especially the one that is all-rounder. She also loved to tell dad a meter more about how I behaved that day, whenever I came home! It was like a 1 on 2 handicap match. They kept tagging and beating the shit out of me, whispering in my ears, "It's for your own good!" I remember telling them to just encourage and love me for what I've became and not to compare me with others. My father has this amazing line that he do loves saying, "What have those students been eating and what we've been feeding you that you fail? They eats rice and so do you! Then why can't you pass?" That was the last time I sobbed over these little things! I started to search a way to bury those, deep inside. And boxing was the pretty, little, nasty solution. I also started to talk back and be rude to anyone who's nice to me. Now my mum comes up to me and say's, "You changed a lot!" But since than nobody has ever been successful in beating me! Literally and mentally! And if life gave me lemons and rather than making lemonade, I sold those lemon on wholesale prize and having a great life! I tell you to do the same! And am waiting for the day when I will be able to make my parents, teachers and friends proud (also jealous) of me!!! ;-*