3am, eggs, beans, and no spell check

It's not so much that I am having toruble sleeping, well no more then I do most of the time, but I can simply lye there and try to sleep. My demons seem to speaking more often now, and I can hear them clealy at night. So I decied to go for frag. Let my mind wonder in a fenced off. Some might say that I am holding myself back, but really the skys the limit.

Some thing has been bothering me latly and my words never seem to express my thoughts the why I need them to. It has to do with smith and his tale in the dinner. A few people have seemed to be upset that smith let the other man go. They ask me why I let the man go. Well honestly I did not let him go, smith did. I am just another view like the rest of you. You ask me why smith let him go, why don't you ask him? It is just as easy for you to do so as it is for me. Plus smith was no law man, he had no obligation to preform what people seem to think as justic aginst him. Can mercy rob justic, no. But justic can't rob mercy either I hope. Let god be the judge and the person to carry out the sentace. We have all done things that we wish more then anything to take back, to have forgiveness for the unforgiveable. Some of the worst things have been done in moments of weakness. For those that have felt such I see it easy to give others what they so desire themselves.

How does one keep in contact with people? I find it so hard, mostly cause I hate the phone. The phone I belive is greatly misused. I want to call people to get together and that is it. To get facts stright or get info and teach, but keeping in touch with such a device is beyound me. I always have planes to call people but freaz when I start to dail. Those rings are like spikes in my chest. I want a mechiean to pick up or something. Cause if it's a human they always seem to want a reason for the call and just to say hi is never very good. Well it never was for me. I never have anything to say no topics come to mind. It's like a pop quiz on my recent life and it's always alittle sad to find out I wasn't paying attion.

I was watching a preview to a movie; a movie which happend to be based on a book, a very famous book. This book has opened doors in people minds. Let them into worlds they didn't know about till them. The author of this book is a true writer. To create a telling of events in that world so that so many others can find their way there is what makes a true writer. When I write stories about smith or stave, Marut and Isac the stories come across as only that stories. They are not mappes to the places where I have witnesed these stories. I insprie to become one of these auothers who can not create worlds, but build doors to them. Why? not for what you might think. To prove to myself that I am not crazy, if others speak about these people that seem to only be in my head then They are not only in my head and I am not then crazy...right?

P.S. gundum seed is great.

Part 5

Smith thought he hear a click, was his hearing coming back? He stepped back as he bent down low. Letting the cold metal slide forward and over this right shoulder then quickly came back up knocking the arm and gun into the air. Smith twisted and brought his own weapon to bear on this new enemy. The young male left his arm in mid air, gun still in hand, and stright faced. It was one of the lovers, but where was the other one? And why was he doing this? Did he not want Smith to let the man go? Or where they helping him?

Smith thought things out for a moment and come to a conclusion. "I'm going to let this man go. As I would wish the same treatment would be given to me for my faluts. Does everyone understand?" After his first few words smith understood that he did not have his hearing back. Smith could bearly understand his own words and the responses the others made where nothing more then simple silent motions. Every one seemed to still be scared which smith took as their fear of him letting this man go. The others thought at first that smith was like them and now they must realize he is not, they must think Smith is in on it. It saddened smith greatly to think that they thought of him as such, but really smith could see very little difference between himself and the trucker. Smith might look like the old man on the outside, but inside Smith thought of himself like the trucker.

Smith kicked the trucker and told him to move. The trucker responded slowly at first then burst into movement once upon his feet. The trucker was up and out the door quicker then most could follow. The door shut behind him and smith breath easier and turn his attion to the rest of the people. The lover seemed to smirk which turned smiths stomach. The lover was in on it, and if him then... Another click.

A Penny for a lie, a dollar for your home

I think I have come to a new place in my head. I find it strange, very strange that I myself have never been called a liar. Well sure in play, but never like I hear others referee to people. When really I am the biggest one I know. I lie to play with thoughts and ideas. Never the less it is very wrong and I count each of them as a sin. I never really new how much I lied till I deiced to stop completely, every big and little lie. Even the white little ones or the ones for convince of story or conversation. As I said I never knew how much I lied till I quit, much like eating meat.

I do think that I would like to get invited to some children's parties, mostly to give them cloths as gifts and then tell them the idea was their mothers. Well that would not due cause that joke requires a lie, and really the breaking down of a child's love for it's mother. I do believe that most people think of children as it's. I really know every little children and don't think I will anytime soon. I do see them as people however. Really dumb people, but people. I don't see myself changing much from kid to adult, sure little things changed, My few of holidays and communication with others, even the ester bunny. I still hold to the basic ideas and philosophies as a child. I simple see them and reach for them in new and different ways. Little cute sticky handed dumb people.

One can't do anything if emotions are their only weapons. It's a phrase I heard and I think I believe it. I want so hard to believe in non-violence. That people can learned to live in peace without having to kill each other. I have trouble sometimes. Cause if good people don't defend themselves then the wicked ones overpower and win. So one has to believe that people are not good and bad. Just lost and lazy. The biggest problem I see is that of laziness. People always want the easy way out. The lottery and the business in a box, the weekend diet and the 12 week hard body. It's easier to kill then to try and understand. I don't blame those that kill however, for I myself have had the desire, and I have never been in a war. So I can not imagine what it would feel like to be in that situation. To cut him down for acting the same is I most likely would seems to me very unjust.

So back to laziness. The media feeds on it. They offer the 2 dollar answers with 50 cent explanations. People take it for it's worth cause it's simplely easier to believe as such, and the saddest thing to me is that I seem to be none the better, I don't believe in conspiracy. People aren't that smart. It goes back to the laziness of it all. Why tell the whole story when you can tell the good parts and get the same ratings and no one questions the rest really. I might just be misinformed however.

I like to think I'm done with lying, I also like to think I am going to be some kind of hero some day. I simply wish to improve this glob, but I have two things I don't want to do in the process. One being forcing my personal beliefs on others, and the next is not compromising my principles for anything. I ask for you to do like wise, but I must refer to wish number one.

part 4

Smiths was starting to panic. He clasped the gun tight and tried to clam himself. Every time Smith would almost get himself under control a movement would grab his attention. Whether it was someones lips, or a nervous twich, it scaried him a little. Smith took a deep breath and thought of girl he knew long ago. Smith pictured her the best he could from his feeble memory. She was standing on a railing over looking the city, wearing a light blue dress. The wind blowing in from the harbor tossed her hair and played with her dress. She was the most beautiful women Smith had ever seen, and he knew that his memory didn't do her beauty justice. She turned and smiled at him.

A hand grabbed smith by the back of the coat and started to pull him up. Acting quickly smith shoved the gun back into his pocket. Smith was pulled up and stood face to face with the unknown gun man. Smith looked quickly around and saw that the others where still there, scarred but there. The man said something then moved smith towards the door. Smith stopped at the kitchen door, afraid to know what he was going to find on the other side. A boot hit smith in the back and he fell into the kitchen face down.

Smith started to pick himself up and saw the old man lying face down to his left. Was the old man really dead, did the unknow gun man shoot the old guy? Smith got up but kept his eyes fix on the man that looked like himself. The gun man caught smiths attention by catching his jaw with a fist. Smith looked at the gun man and really saw him for the first time. He looked to be in his mid forties. He had the appearance of a trucker smith thought, unshaven and a little scrubby. The man seem a little jumpy and maybe even a little frightened. The man motioned for smith to turn around. Smith did so and noticed as he turned that he could see out the window where the others could only see his head. Panic raised in smith suddenly and his vision jumped to the old man on the ground. That was going to be him, no that was him. Smith was beholding his future. Smith noticed that the old man was breathing however, and there was no blood.

Smith pulled the gun from his pocket and turned to face the gun wielding trucker. The trucker had the pistol raised to give a clean blow to the back of smiths head. Smith took the initiative and placed his gun right inbetween the truckers eyes. The truckers face was filled with shock and smith thought he could see him mouth some kind of profanity. Smiths confidence rushed in stronger than it had ever been in his life. He did it, he had stopped this man. What was to be done with him now? Smith told the trucker to drop his gun and walk outside. The man seemed to understand and did so. Smith followed closely kicking the gun along with him. The others watched dumb fondly as smith walked back to them with his prisoner. Smith told them to tie the trucker up some how. The cook took off a belt he was wearing under his apron and tightened it around the trucks hands and then to the bottom of a table. Smith stood above the trucker and told the others to call the police or something.

After that confusion ensued as people ran for the door, phone, and even the back where the old man laid. Smith didn't focus on anything but the trucker. He stared at him wondering what he should do. Smith almost wanted to let him go, the man was scared. What if it was smith in this situation. wouldn't he want to be let go. This man didn't kill smith, had only tried to knock him out. The trucker didn't seem to be dangerous, but what if smith did let him go. It would not fix the mans problems. The man would still be in the same situation that lead him to do this, plus smith couldn't really talk with him. Smith did have his gun, that would at least stop him form doing this same thing, at least right away. Smith had decide to let him go. He bent over when a familiar metallic cold touched the back of his neck.

Part 3

Smith’s natural reaction was to cover his head like everyone else. He could tell who ever fired the shot wanted him to do something. A gun barrel was being pushed into the back of his neck. He was still too dazed to think straight and couldn't hear. Not able to heed whatever might have been said he just sat there. The push became forceful and Smith shouted that he couldn’t hear. Smith just kept shouting it till the pressure at the back of his neck was removed. After a little bit Smith was forcefully turned to face a man he did not recognize. The man seemed to be motioning that Smith should take a place in the back corner of the dinner with the rest of the people. Smith put his hands up not sure if he was suppose to or not and walked over.

All crammed into two booths where the old man, the waitress, the three old card players, and what looked like some kind of cook. The lovers however seemed not to be present. Had something happened to them? Was something going to happen to him? Smith still had a gun, he might be able to do something, but had no idea what was happing. There was simply one man that had not seemed to be in the dinner before now holding all the rest at gun point, while the two lovers where missing. Smith looked around a bit and saw no exits. There where no doors save the one at the front, if this place had bathrooms or any others Smith could not see them. The dinner was a half circle with the kitchen in the middle and the tables on the outer side. Sure there were the glass windows behind him, but he couldn't break it and get out without being shot. He didn't have it in him to shot this gunner either; Smith himself had almost robed the place. It could have been him up there, yet Smith couldn't be sure that these people would all be safe as well. Where were the lovers?

Nothing had happed for sometime. The man was just holding the gun out at Smith and the rest as everyone looked down at the table or out the window. Smith was still trying to think about what he should do. Still his hearing had not come back, and time must be running out. Something was going to happen and soon. Just then smith realized that one of the card players was missing. He had been there only a moment ago what happen. Smith had been to out of it and had missed something important. The faces of the people seemed to be a little panicked now. The gun man yelled something and the old man got up walked behind the counter and into the kitchen, the gun man followed. One could see into the kitchen from the eating are, but nothing more then heads. Smith decided this was a chance to pull the gun out. He had to do something, but he still wasn't sure what. Smith half looked at the other captives faces as he worked the gun out of his coat pocket. The gun was almost as big as the pocket and getting it out smoothly was proving difficult. Suddenly the others faces turned to shock, something had happened. He looked over and didn't see the heads. Movement caught his eye and he saw a pair of boots dragged out of sight.

ok a repost cause not sure people saw it (Open 24hr part b)

Smith had worked the same job for the last ten years, and ten years with no incidents. He took all the crap that came his way and never made a fuss. He had always heard that the secret to success is to be able to fall into a sewer and come out smelling like roses. Will smith didn't fall in; he was born there, your typical hard luck case. So when smith looked at this man on the stool next to him, he knew him. This man was smith, never catching a break and never getting ahead. This man was older though, much older. To smith it almost seemed like he was looking into a mirror. Was this going to be him in twenty years? Was he just going to get another dead beat job to work in for another twenty? Smith wasn’t eating; too much was on his mind to be shoveling things into his stomach.

Smith fingered the gun in his coat, slowly cocking and uncocking the gun. Trying to figure out another answer to his money problems. Just then a piece of pie was slid in front of him. He looked up at the waitress who looked to be in her fifties. She told him it was on the house. That was it he couldn't do it. It would be like pulling the gun on his grandmother, heck she even gave him cherry. He loved Cherry.

He nodded his thanks and she told him it looked like he needed a little pick me up. Her kind words where the last words he heard that night. A gun shoot went off right next to his head. The blast was deafening and dazed him for a moment. He could tell that someone had picked up where he had left off. He was afraid to move and stared straight ahead letting his vision focus. Seeing only his pie and the waitress cowering behind the counter.

Why is the sky Blue?

Well it's cause blue is the shortest wave lenght. duh.

Opened 24hrs

Smith had worked the same job for the last ten years, and ten years with no incidents. He took all the crap that came his way and never made a fuss. He had always heard that the secret to success is to be able to fall into a sewer and come out smelling like roses. Will smith didn't fall in; he was born there, your typical hard luck case. So when smith looked at this man on the stool next to him, he knew him. This man was smith, never catching a break and never getting ahead. This man was older though, much older. To smith it almost seemed like he was looking into a mirror. Was this going to be him in twenty years? Was he just going to get another dead beat job to work in for another twenty? Smith wasn’t eating; too much was on his mind to be shoveling things into his stomach.

Smith fingered the gun in his coat, slowly cocking and uncocking the gun. Trying to figure out another answer to his money problems. Just then a piece of pie was slid in front of him. He looked up at the waitress who looked to be in her fifties. She told him it was on the house. That was it he couldn't do it. It would be like pulling the gun on his grandmother, heck she even gave him cherry. He loved Cherry.

He nodded his thanks and she told him it looked like he needed a little pick me up. Her kind words where the last words he heard that night. A gun shoot went off right next to his head. The blast was deafening and dazed him for a moment. He could tell that someone had picked up where he had left off. He was afraid to move and stared straight ahead letting his vision focus. Seeing only his pie and the waitress cowering behind the counter.