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 Author Thread: David DeAngelo
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 14 (view)
 
David DeAngelo
Posted: 7/18/2009 10:02:16 PM


Except for Ross Jeffries. He's an asshat. He is the classic pickup douchebag.


Agreed. The guy just gives me the creeps. David DeAngelo at least promotes personal evolution more than "Tricks" used to meet women. Ross Jeffries seems to be mainly reliant on hypnosis to get them in the sack.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 24 (view)
 
Raised by media, and what to do about it now.
Posted: 7/17/2009 5:35:32 PM
I'm white. I don't watch tv. I'm not exactly aethist and I'm not really theist. It wasn't always this way. I was once a good little Christian boy, but then I found that there were just too many questions that religion couldn't answer for me.

I'm not trying to profess a "Holier Than Thou" mindset when I say I despise what television has done to western culture, just merely stating that it spends too much time distracting people from real issues, rather keeping them focused on whatever Paris Hilton is up to, or who the next (Clay Aiken/Carrie Underwood/et al.) will be.

I'm simply saying that I personally find it deceiving. Deceiving and addictive for people who can't keep a handle on their addictions. Once again, everything in moderation, right?

However, I liken television to a drug in many ways. People stare into the God-box with about the same level of emotional connection to the people around them as heroine addicts have. They waste hours per day watching things that bring little enjoyment. (Next time you watch the news, count the advertisements for anti-depressants. You might be surprised.)

Nonetheless, I don't profess to be better than the guy in the trailer park who sits and watches eight hours of television a day. I simply profess to be more aware of the world around me now that I've turned it off.

Mind you, addiction to the internet is just as damaging, and I can say I spend more than two hours a day online. Time that could be better spent out enjoying the fresh air and company of friends, much like the tv crowd.

Everyone here is making some really good points for and against the whole "raised by media" thing. There are some things that modern mass media has done that can be positive, if utilized and received properly, but I find the negative aspects far outweigh them. That's why I woke up one morning and instead of turning on the tv, I decided we were done like dinner and dumped it like a bad date.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 1 (view)
 
Raised by media, and what to do about it now.
Posted: 7/16/2009 2:21:53 AM
Hey folks.

I, like many others, was raised almost entirely by media icons that don't exist. My family existed in the form of Full House and Family Matters. My friends were the Transformers and Ninja Turtles. My teacher was Bill Nye. From a very young age, I was implanted with the general media's version of family values, and it's held me back a lot in life. While other kids were developing at a normal pace in their social interactions, I found myself confused that nobody else seemed to be raised in the same method, and I had a very lonely childhood.

Over the past several years, however, I've evolved to the point where I can start unlearning many of the false impressions that media has taught me, mostly about the world of dating and relationships. I have a number of friends now from many different walks from life that, during my childhood, were absent. I'm proud to say that I have a much better grasp of the world around me, media-free. (I stopped watching television in 2002.)

What I'd like to know is if anyone else out there had this issue now or at any point in the past, and what you did (or are doing) about it to make a change for the better.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 3 (view)
 
David DeAngelo
Posted: 7/16/2009 2:21:40 AM
He's a good guy, who's well spoken and intelligent. He's also doing what he loves, helping people, and he's getting paid for it.

Why not? I figure he deserves every cent he gets.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 1 (view)
 
Demon Storm
Posted: 7/16/2009 1:33:08 AM
With a Preface by the Author.... ;)

Demon Storm is a short piece of fiction I wrote during a particularly turbulent period in my life. Years before I discovered how to let everything that doesn't really matter just flow off of my back. The story itself is a metaphor for the trials I faced in my life at the time and the locations and events within the story were used to encrypt various thought processes that plagued me at the time.

It's a dark story, for those who enjoy dark stories.

Mind you, I'm not so dark anymore. ;)

--------------------------------

On the horizon I see it. Faceless, disembodied. A wail rises from the coming storm, it seems to cross the desert in seconds. I can feel the atmosphere change from a cool breeze to a humid gale, sick with the stench of blood. I can sense the evil emanating from it, and I know the disease it brings… Chaos. Disorder. Death. Murder.

“It’s coming!” someone cries. I turn to run. The city isn’t far off, and it’s protective walls may provide just the cover we need. It’s louder now. I swear I can hear them. The infernal inhabitants of this dark storm.

I briefly turn away from the others, looking back over my shoulder. The dark wind ruffles through my hair and assaults my senses. The stench is overwhelming. I can smell the rot.

But as overpowering as the rotten stench is, it pales when compared to the sight now relentlessly pursuing my companions and I across the desert floor. I can barely see through the haze of blood to gaze upon what lies beneath. Thousands of them, perhaps millions stare out at us with cold, hungry eyes. They desire a fresh meal. New blood, and they are keeping my companions and I in mind.

I turn back towards the others. They are nearly to the gates of the dark city, but far ahead of me, and the infernal deluge is quickly gaining. I sense something else. Perhaps about this desolate land, or the poisoned city before me, but it is dark and foreboding, almost too incredible a feeling to bear.

I know not what danger lies within the gray walls of that forgotten city, but the thought pales in comparison to the demonic bedlam that licks at my heels.

I dare not turn around now, for I know I shall face my doom. Two grotesque yellow eyes, fangs, perhaps a winged creature bearing claws and talons. They would rend the flesh from my bones, and my life essence would be added to the horrific tumult, bidding it brighter with my own blood. I can feel the demons breathing down my neck now, even as my unknown comrades scream for me to hurry.

Finally, I reach the gates, and they are slammed shut behind me. I can hear them outside now, wailing with eternal torment, calling for blood. I am in the city now, and the city is damned.

I have recourse for a moment to observe. I cannot see the faces of my companions, but I can see their forms. I can hear their whimpers. They are like me, strangers to this place. None of them speak, but I know all of them. I also know that they feel the same as me. That this cursed city, poisoned with the stench of dead is no safer than the infernal maelstrom outside.

I see now that the city is entirely enclosed from the sky, save for a few spots where the stone has worn away, brittle from years of disuse. There is just barely enough light let in from outside to see the gray, lifeless walls of a once-thriving city.

But now, there is nothing, save for the stench of the unquiet dead.

My companions and I rest for a moment to catch our breaths. There is a brief flash of light as a wall-torch explodes in a fury of life-sustaining flame.

The city before us is revealed in a wash of flickering light. Old buildings, perhaps homes or shops, once brimming with human life make themselves known. Now, only dark shadows of what they once were remain. Now, only home to the array of rotted corpses and brittle bones.

This place is cursed.

What horror had befallen this ancient city of the damned? What plague had struck this place? We knew not. But we all knew one thing… whatever it was… was still here.

The unhallowed storm outside was still going strong outside, so, unsure of ourselves, we took the first gentle step and ventured farther into the city.

Past crumbled column and fallen walls we walked. Over rocky debris and ancient, forgotten fodder. Periodically we heard the telltale crunch of bones and insects beneath our feet. Soon, we found ourselves standing before a courtyard.

Within the courtyard itself, bones were strewn about, as though part of some arcane garden.

Yes, it was a bone garden. And at the garden’s center, a deep well. And at the well’s center, a low rumbling assaulted our ears, followed soon afterwards by a high-pitched chittering.

We knew it was coming. By torchlight we all prepared what weapons we had, ready to fight, but ready to flee. With blades drawn out, we awaited the unknown, damned creature of the Bone Garden’s pit.

And when it emerged, we took an instinctive step backwards. It came up, revealing two thick antennae, followed by two mandibles, each capable of chewing through the strongest of precious metals. The mandibles revealed the head, adorned with two yellow eyes and a purple shell. Leg after leg after leg protruded from the insectoid body as it emerged from its lair.

With its thick purple shell, the giant centipede began its assault. Blades drawn, we set about our attack.

The blades flew. Sword and scythe, dagger and glaive. With desperation as our fuel, we attacked the dark being with our very souls. Our will to live was the fuel to our fire. With each strike of our weapons, a sickening crunch resounded throughout these fortgotten halls, finally drowning out the sound of the demonic wailing from outside.

Piece by piece, we chipped through the creature’s thick natural armour. A transparent mucous begal to pool into the bones and dirt beneath us. With every successful strike, the creature screeched, and finally, we had broken through, separating its body.

The creature stopped moving.

And, as we all paused to regain ourselves, the pool of liquid began to recede back into the creature, and its pieces began to grab out, reaching for one another, forcing the body back together.

We fled. It was the only course of action against a seemingly immortal foe.

We ran through the city for what seemed like hours, zig-zagging through the pitch streets with no destination in mind, only the desperate need to escape the unnatural creature which had attacked us. Only when we were certain we had escaped it did we even attempt to stop for breath.

We quickly ducked into an abandoned shop and allowed ourselves a moment’s rest. It was only upon closer examination that we discovered ourselves in an old weapons shop. The walls and cases were lined with cursed weapons, built of this doomed city.

It suddenly occurred to me… In order to defeat that accursed creature, we must use weapons from this infernal armory.

I picked up a blade, and I could feel the blood it had spilled. Yes, these weapons were cursed, but our only alternative was death.

My companions, men and women whom I knew all intimately, must have come to the same silent conclusion. Our unspoken bond led them to replace their old weapons with the cursed ones.

It was then that we heard it. The telltale chittering of the Monster of the Bone Garden approaching from outside. With a mutual nod from my companions, and with our cursed weapons in tow, we went out to meet the unnatural creation.

The attack started again. This time there was no sickening crunch of the shell being force-fed into itself, but a clean slice. Our weapons cut through the creature as if it were made of pulp.

And finally, the creature was done. No longer did it chitter away, no more did unnatural tendrils reach out to pull itself back together, and no longer did it wish to feed on my companions and I.

But, there was a deafening silence echoing throughout the great halls of this desolate city of the damned, save for the labored panting brought forth by the exertions of my companions and I. It was in that moment, I think, that we all realized the link between us all.

In the waking world, these men and women were my friends. In this nightmarish land, this cursed city, they were my only chance of survival, as I was to them.

Suddenly, there was a great upheaval, the very ground beneath us twisted and cracked. The earth belched the sickly smell of sulfur. Twisting and rolling, rolling and twisting, it began the attempt to swallow us.

And swallow us, it did.

The smell was more overwhelming in this new place, some unknown distance beneath the forgotten city. We quickly rose to our feet to take in our new surroundings. A cavern of immense proportions greeted us. Hot with the stink of spoiled eggs, littered with pools and flows of molten lava, and designed by some master, yet demented craftsmen, for the cavern we stood in was the center of some cosmic machine. An infernal creation of cogs and wheels, of levers and gears…

What demented mind had conjured up this machine? What madmen had designed it? What purpose did it serve?

Suddenly, the answer occured to us. Looking high high above, at the city forgotten by time, it seemed simple enough to fathom. Its creators had once lived in the city above. They had built the city, and then this infernal machine. But what of its purpose?

Gaze upon me, the machine said. Be lost in me, for I am alive but in the minds of men.

It spoke not, but we knew what it was. This machine, this dread machine, was evil. The base of all evil, the stem of corruption and birthplace of the diabolical…

Filled with sloth, dripping with envy, seething with lust, engorged in gluttony, brimming with pride, overflowing with greed, and spewing forth wrath. The machine was coursing with Sin, and its fuel was blood.

Suddenly, the idea of facing unending demons didn’t seem so terrible.

Skyward we climbed, through the rubble caused by the earth-fall that brought us to that damned, forgotten machine, into that dread city, full of sun creatures. Through the city we marched, haunted by what we had bore witness to, until we reached the gates.

Dusk had just began to settle outside, the demon storm had passed.

Bracing ourselves fir what unknown nightmares we may face, brandishing our cursed weapons, we stepped out into the wastelands, and left that city of sin, the city of Pandora’s Box, the City of Nod behind.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 20 (view)
 
I'm addicted to writing Fan Fiction!
Posted: 7/16/2009 1:26:09 AM
I got my start in writing from fan fiction way back in the day. Between '95 - '99 I wrote dozens of fan fiction stories and I used the experience to hone my writing skills. It wasn't until early 2008 when I finally decided to take a chance and write an original novel from scratch, but I did it. I did it in three months. (For the first draft. Consecutive revisions took a bit longer.)

Now I actually have a completed book available through several different sources, but it all started from fan fiction.

Keep at it. Seriously. Hone your skills to the point where you're confident you can write an original story from scratch, then... just do it. Clear off all other projects from your desk and work on the one. That's what I did, and I'm happy I did it.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 86 (view)
 
Should Pot be legal?
Posted: 7/13/2009 1:50:38 AM
Well, our brains naturally produce many of the chemicals which pot uses to affect the brain. And while pot affects different people in different ways, it is nowhere near as dangerous as alcohol. (I read an article recently that touted how the drug Ecstasy was better for you than alcohol.)

It may make some people violent, but that could be caused by something as simple as a mental imbalance that existed prior to pot use such as schizophrenia or panic disorder that was triggered by the pot use. I've lived in a small town where pot usage has been the norm for many, many years, and I've yet to meet the man who can smoke a joint and rob a liquor store. The best he'll do is learn how to play Guitar Hero on expert and gain a few pounds. I've seen it many, many times over. It's not the drug, it's the person. This goes for the addiction factor as well. Pot is NOT physically addictive. Mentally, sure, but it's probably the easiest drug to quit. I did, and never thought twice about it.

So yes, I believe pot should be legalized. Legalize it, tax it, even put regulations on it, by all means.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 812 (view)
 
Introduce Yourself Here....
Posted: 7/13/2009 1:27:47 AM
You can call me EJ, though I'm known to go by many names. I'm a 29 year-old author from Ladysmith, BC. (That's on Vancouver Island for those not 'in-the-know.') Been on POF for the better part of a year now, but never really thought to participate in the community before today.

I'm hoping to meet some cool, fun and interesting people through POF, so feel free to drop me a line any time.
 ejspur
Joined: 7/2/2008
Msg: 1 (view)
 
Children of the Halo Excerpt
Posted: 9/9/2008 2:43:36 AM
Just thought I'd throw in an excerpt from my current major project. ;)

---

Children of the Halo - Chapter One

The Blacklight Event

---

The pinprick of light went largely unnoticed at first. It appeared as if from nothing over the Dunsmith Harbor, a swath of ocean protected by the Vancouver Island landscape that seemed to curl around it. Along the west of the harbor one could find Transfer Beach, a heritage park accessible from Highway One as it cut its way through the small town of Dunsmith.

To the north and east one could find a large spread of land dedicated to farming and First Nations. The Hul'qumi'num Band claimed Shell Beach in Whitepoint, on the eastern bank of the harbor, while to the north, the farms and homes of Cedarwood dotted the landscape.

Dunsmith was a hub. It was a through-way. For that section of Vancouver Island, it was the only place you could pass through in order to get any further north when coming up from Victoria, or Duncan, and the only place to travel south when coming from Nanaimo or Port Alberni.

In short, it was a crossroads.

But this particular crossroads, in fact, had a population of over eight thousand people, spread out over several districts.

For several minutes, the light went largely unnoticed by human eyes. Animals of every sort however, cast their eyes skyward almost to the moment it appeared. Pets, pests and wild animals could sense the light's presence, although even they could not know what it foretold. Still, they knew it represented a change.

Constable Cale Shephard, RCMP, was the first human to notice its presence, at five minutes past four on a warm June morning. He caught a brief glimpse of it as it hung in the sky above the harbor while driving southbound on Highway One, just as the trees gave way to a full view of the harbor.

He slowed his Crown Victoria to a crawl and pulled into the shoulder of the highway. He heard the whoosh of other cars going past him-- early risers on their way to work, no doubt. Dunsmith was a town that got up early. And most of them were commuters.

He watched the strange light as it hovered in the sky. As far as Cale could tell, it was about six hundred feet up, about the size of a car, and bobbed up and down in midair.

“The hell?” he muttered. He opened his door and got out, his eyes never leaving the strange light in the sky. Wind blew and swept through his dark hair as he focused on the unidentified object. As the object came into further focus, Cale noticed that it was no normal light. The light violet hues that pulsed out from it were unmistakable. It was a blacklight.

"Dispatch," he said into his radio. “Call Ten-Bravo.”

"Go ahead Ten-Bravo," came the dispatcher's voice. He recognized the voice instantly as Jenny, the usual graveyard dispatcher at the Nanaimo Office.

"Yeah, Dispatch, I have an...” Damn, Cale thought. What's the code for UFO? “There appears to be a light above the Dunsmith Harbor," he said.

"Ten-Nine, Ten-Bravo?"

Cale sighed in exasperation. Jenny had heard him, of course, she just couldn't make any sense out of what he was saying. Cale would have asked himself to repeat his last transmission as well.

"I said there's a light above the Dunsmith Harbor. It looks like a blacklight."

"Ten-Bravo, call Ten-Tango,” his radio rang out. Cale winced at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Sergeant Gerald Boone, his watch commander. He was a gruff, older man, having served with the RCMP for almost twenty-five years, fifteen of that with the Dunsmith RCMP detachment. He was a good man, when he didn't have his head firmly inserted into his rectum.

“Go ahead Ten-Tango,” Cale replied.

“Ten-Bravo, did you say there was a light?" Boone asked. Cale rolled his eyes. The man's voice had an aura of exasperation to it.

“Affirmative, Ten-Tango,” Cale replied. “I'm just south of the Airport here, near the turnoff to Cedarwood. From where I'm standing, it appears to be about a thousand feet up, somewhere above the harbor. It's small, spherical and it looks like a blacklight. It seems to be pulsing every few seconds.”

"Ten-Bravo, suggest you focus on patrolling, leave the UFOs to the loonies," Boone replied.

Cale frowned. **stard.

"Ten-Tango, call Ten-Charlie," another voice came over the radio. It was Shelly Littleton. She had been behind the wheel of the detachment's single SUV for most of the night, focusing her patrols in the more rural areas along the southern coastline, heading through South Davies to Chemainus.

"Go ahead Ten-Charlie," Boone replied, his voice betraying his annoyance.

"I see it too, Sergeant," she said. "I'm just down on Old Davies Road here. I hadn't noticed it until Ten-Bravo pointed it out, but I can see it fine. It's just above Wolf Island."

Cale smiled. Good old Shelly. She'd been in the local detachment for a good ten years, and if there was anything she'd learned to hate, it was Sergeant Boone. Any chance she had of proving him wrong, she'd take.

"Ten-Charlie, suggest you leave the fantasies to Ten-Bravo," Boone replied.

"Dispatch, Ten-Tango."

"Go ahead Dispatch," Boone replied.

"I just got a call from the Gas 'n Dash down your way," the dispatcher said. "Clerk said that there's a purple light over the harbor, and wants to know what we're doing about it."

Cale almost laughed. Boomer, the clerk at the Gas 'n Dash, was pretty well known to him. They'd conversed more than once in his duties as a cop, especially when he had to refuel. As far as he could tell, Boomer was a good man, but almost always the first to correct people when they had their facts wrong. Even as little as Cale knew the kid, he knew he didn't belong at a gas station. That kid was smart.

"All right, Ten-Charlie, you're closer than I am,” Boone said. “Go get the clerk's statement. I'm going to check this out and make a few calls."

"Ten-Four," Shelly replied.

“Ten-Bravo,” Boone continued. “I want you to head on north, have a sit by the airport.”

“Ten-Four,” Cale replied. He took one last look at the light, shook his head, and got into the car. Within a few moments, he had all but put the strange light entirely out of his mind.

----

The room was quiet. It was stained in a strange combination of light. Red, from the radio alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, but then a dull sheen of white spread across the ceiling from the display screen of a mobile phone, plugged into its charger, and Ryan Stills stared blankly at the light cast by it as he lay in his bed.

He had woken up a few minutes earlier, bothered by a strange buzzing sensation he had felt against his skin. Originally, he had tried to shift positions and get more comfortable in an attempt to tune out the strange sensation, but still he glared at the ceiling, his eyes feeling neither heavy or tired.

He sighed in frustration as he turned to his side, then reached out to pick up the phone from the floor. It was fifteen past four in the morning, the middle of the night. In three hours, Ryan would have to be awake and getting ready for the day's work. He'd been working as a dry-waller for two years, and it had become as much a part of his routine as anything else. Up by seven. Out the door by eight, at work by eight-thirty.

Provided, of course, he could sleep well enough till then.

He put the phone back down, then swung his legs over the side of his bed. Fine then, he thought to himself. If sleep wasn't going to welcome him into its gentle warm embrace, then he'd just get an early start to his day. He stood up, stretched and then made his way to the bathroom, flicking the lights on.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden presence of light. His short brown hair was a mess, mussed all about as a result of tossing and turning in his sleep. He rubbed his face and felt the prickle of his day-old stubble. Ryan reached for the razor before something caught his eye. Something reflecting back at him from the window in his living room.

Ryan suddenly stopped what he was doing, unnerved by the strange sight. He walked over to his patio and pulled the curtains open, then looked out into the sky.

“Now what the hell is that?” he asked nobody in particular as he observed the strange light floating in the sky. From his vantage point, he noticed that it was pulsing outwards, it seemed to be spherical, but the surface of the object appeared to flow fluidly.

Ryan shook his head. He couldn't be seeing things, could he? He wasn't drunk, hell, he hadn't drank in years, and it definitely wasn't drugs, unless someone had slipped something into his water. He rubbed his eyes, but the strange light still hovered in the sky, unmoving.

“Weird,” he said, once again to nobody. Suddenly, he looked over to his mobile phone. Ryan briefly wondered for a moment if he was the only one seeing this. He turned around, then began to reach for it.

That was when the ground started to shake. It started slowly at first, but then suddenly, a violent vibration seemed to come up from the ground below, throwing Ryan off-balance enough that he had to reach out to brace himself. The phone forgotten, he whipped his head around maniacally, looking for some escape.

An earthquake? They were common on Vancouver Island, of course, but most of them were only small tremors.

This one, on the other hand, had to be at least a six on the Richter Scale. As his apartment shook violently around him, he chose instead to wait out the quake. After all, they didn't last longer than a few seconds usually.

But, after nearly thirty seconds had passed, the ground still hadn't stopped shaking. His pictures were beginning to fall off of the wall. He watched in surprise as small figurines and knick knacks he'd collected since he moved out on his own began to clatter off of shelves.

As his eyes passed over the old blacklight reactive poster he'd had since he was fifteen, he paused.

The poster was reacting. It shone brightly in neon hues, lighting up the area on the floor beneath it. It took Ryan a moment to realize the source of the light, but when he did, he whipped his head back to the strange light.

It was larger now, and growing exponentially. The light grew stronger with each passing second, and Ryan watched in abstract, unknowing horror as the light began to expand so far that it touched the water.

And then, it consumed the water. He watched as the light enveloped Wolf Island, and moments later, Tent Island, the two islands that called the Dunsmith Harbor home.

He took a step backwards as he realized the light had no intentions of stopping. It reached the outer edge of his balcony and whipped through the window, and he threw his arms up in defense. A second later, he grunted as he landed on the floor. He winced, but as he opened his eyes, he looked around in shock to see that the light had completely consumed his apartment, penetrating the walls as if they were transparent.

He quickly got back up to his feet and looked around. Everything in the apartment was reacting to the light. His t-shirts, his posters, even the white enamel on his electric guitar.

He quickly ran to the window, casting his vision up towards where he had originally seen the light.

There was something there.

It moved and thrashed in the air. Ryan couldn't see it well, but it looked... alive, whatever it was. Its body was long and thin, and it had two strange-looking wings, but he couldn't see it clearly. It was blurry, as if it had been obscured by the light.

He'd never seen anything like it. It moved around in the air in spastic circles, almost as if it was bound and trying to break free. Ryan could feel his heart pounding in... panic? No, not panic. But a sense of awe and wonder, as if he were on the verge of something great.

The figure that thrashed in the distance suddenly froze up in mid-spasm, and a great light erupted from within, and for a split second, it had been as bright as day.

A moment later, the light ended as quickly as it had begun, and the earth stopped shaking. Ryan watched as the lights outside began to die, and in another moment, he was left in absolute darkness as the electricity failed.

----

Awaken, Child of the Halo, something said. Terra couldn't quite make out what it was, only that it was large. A large part of her hoped it was benign as well.

She attempted to say something, but found her lips were suspiciously absent. Not to mention her body, for that matter. It was as if she were floating in mid-air, having checked her body in at the airport. Below her, she could see the familiar coastline she'd lived along her entire life, but something was odd about it. The familiar lights that should have identified the streets and homes were gone. Still, she didn't think much of it. She was having too much fun floating freely through the air, without the added weight of her body to hinder her.

War comes to the City Electric, Child, the voice said, capturing her attention away from the ground below. It risks being torn asunder by the Old Blood's wrath.

The voice struck Terra as odd. It wasn't male. It wasn't female. It definitely wasn't human, but in despite of that, the voice carried with it a gentle peacefulness that tore through its androgyny and gave Terra the distinct feeling the speaker was female. What's more, she found that she wanted to hear the unseen being's message. That nothing would please her more. She wanted to scream it, but was reminded again of the absence of her mouth.

Five shall come and five shall flow, three shall stay and three shall go. The daughter of the broken house shall call upon you and he of the twilight blade.

He of the twilight blade? For some reason, Terra found herself deeply entranced by the being's words.

Heed my words, Child of the Halo. The hand of the Tainted King moves towards you even now. A fall from an iron horse shall show you the way.

Suddenly, Terra felt a strange sensation. Almost as if she were being bound, her limbs tied down to limit movement. After a moment, she could tell it was not her that was feeling bound, but the strange entity that spoke to her. The voice never changed, it still came through as calm and gentle as it had when it had first spoken, but she got a distinct sense of distress from it. The voice resonated with calmness.

Time grows short. Remember what I have said. Go in peace, Child of the Halo.

And with that, Terra woke up.

----

Terra opened her eyes to darkness. Absolute. Not even the standby indicator on her stereo was on. She rubbed her hands over her face and sat up in bed. Leaning over the side of the bed, she felt around on the floor for her sketchbook. She had been drawing in it before she fell asleep. The torn and battered cover felt rough under her fingertips and was easily recognizable to the touch. She picked it up, then opened up her nightstand drawer and pulled out a pen and a small flashlight.

Her sketchbook wasn't just a sketchbook. It was where she wrote notes, journal entries, drew pictures, doodled. It was a general purpose notebook that was now going to act as a dream journal. Holding the pen flashlight in her teeth, she vigorously scribbled what she had heard in her dream. Terra believed in the power of dreams. That in some cases, they could foretell the future. She didn't know if this case was prophetic, but it was interesting nonetheless, like something out of Harry Potter.

After taking a moment to write down everything she could remember, Terra closed her sketchbook, and lay down in her bed. Checking her watch, she saw that it was only a little past four in the morning. She wouldn't have to be up and awake for work for another four hours, but Lily had to be up in an hour. Terra knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, so she got out of bed and stumbled through the invisible clutter to her bedroom door. A cool air swept into the room, and Terra realized that it had been inhumanly warm in there. She could feel the sweat stick to her face and forehead as the cool air dried it out. She brushed a thatch of her blood-colored hair from her face and took a deep breath.

From her bedroom doorway, she could see the thin line of light from under her front door, most likely from the apartment building's emergency lights that lit up the hallways in the event of a power outage. Terra went into the living room and sat on the couch. She set the flashlight on the arm and pulled a small tray on to her lap. She then reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a small glass jar filled with a thick green substance, a small metal grinder and a pack of Zig-Zags, white.

A moment later, Terra and her freshly rolled joint stepped out onto the patio. The night was dark, some clouds had quickly settled in above the town, and even the moon was blotted out. Terra could see the dull light of the moon shining through the haze of clouds. The haze reminded her of something, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She was briefly blinded by the small spire of flame that sprung up inches from her face, but after a moment she managed to guide the end of the joint into it, and inhaled.

After a few moments, she could feel the effects of the pot. No surprise, it was from British Columbia, after all. Terra was proud of where she lived. As far as she was concerned, Vancouver Island was paradise, and anything that came from BC might as well be declared food of the gods.

She puffed back on the joint as she let her mind wander. It still lingered on the dream, but as she cast her gaze out over the Dunsmith Harbor and saw that the moonlight had cut through the clouds in the distance, lighting up a vast swath of ocean, she found herself appreciating the beautiful light cast by the moon. The light seemed almost unnatural, brighter and bluer than it should have been. But her eyes were still adjusting.

"Terra?" a voice whispered from below. It was an unwelcome voice that cut into her concentration. "Is that you?"

Terra recognized the voice right away. It was Ryan. "Yeah," she whispered back. What was he doing up? It was four-thirty in the morning. Terra was used to being up at such times, having worked the occasional night shift at Dunsmith Press since she got out of high school, but Ryan was strictly a day-shifter.

"Did you see it?" he asked.

"See what?"

"The... light. The black-light.. thing. And that thing over the bay!"

"You're dreaming, Ryan. Go back to sleep."

“No, no. I'm serious,” Ryan pleaded. “You didn't even feel the earthquake?”

“Earthquake?” Terra asked. She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “There was an earthquake?” But had there been? It was dark inside the apartment. Besides her flashlight, it was the only light. She'd never have noticed if she slept through it.

Ryan never replied, however. Terra looked down at him. He seemed to be staring off into space, a strange look on his face. “Hey,” she said. “You still awake?”

"I... The..." He began, but couldn't quite get it. He just pointed.

Terra looked up to the sky. More specifically, the moon. It was in full view in the sky above, larger than she had ever seen it before, and she could clearly see the sun reflecting off of its distant waters.

Wait. Distant waters? On the moon?

Terra dropped her joint as she stared up in disbelief. The last time Terra had checked, the moon wasn't blue. Nor did it reflect the amount of sunlight that this did. She blinked her eyes, trying to force the thing into clearer focus.

It was an ocean. The moon was one giant ocean. Terra could also make out a small green landmass. It was like nothing she had ever seen before.

“What the **** is that?” she asked. "What the hell is going on, Ryan?" she looked down at him.

"I dunno," he replied. He looked to the people now starting to come out into the streets, pointing excitedly at the sky. "I think... I think we'd better get downtown. That's probably where everyone's going to gather."

Terra stood in silence for a moment, her joint all but forgotten. "I'll wake Lily up," she said. "Give me five minutes."

----

Cale swore to himself. The power was out everywhere, the whole town. Even the traffic lights were out. Cale had been sitting quietly in a vacant lot just south of the airport when the ground had started to shake. It distracted him enough that he never even noticed the strange light had begun to expand. At least, not until it had expanded enough to envelope him, his squad car, and even the airport. After it had done its thing, the ground stopped shaking, and the lights had gone dead. Cars had pulled to the side of the road once the ground had started to shake, but now that the earthquake had subsided, they once again continued on their way north.

“Dispatch, call Ten-Tango,” Boone called into the radio.

Cale listened silently as he started to scribble his report onto his notepad. But, when Boone repeated his transmission, Cale looked up.

“Shit,” Boone said through the radio after the third unsuccessful attempt. “Ten-Bravo, you there?”

“Here,” Cale said.

“I can't reach Dispatch,” he said. “You want to give it a shot?”

“Dispatch,” Cale said into the radio. “Call Ten-Bravo.”

Nothing.

“Ten-Tango, I'm not getting through,” he said. The dispatch office was in Nanaimo. It could have meant that the communications antenna was damaged in the Earthquake, but even then, someone should have replied.

“Can we get through to the Nanaimo boys at all?” Boone replied. “Eight-Tango, call Ten-Tango.”

Still nothing. It was as if they were ignoring them entirely.

“Shit,” Boone said again. “Okay, all units check in.”

“Ten-Bravo,” Cale said.

“Ten-Charlie,” came Shelly's familiar voice.

Nothing else after that.

“What the hell?” Boone replied. “That's it? We've got two units? What about the Highway Patrol boys? Anyone?”

Still silence.

“Ten-Bravo, you still up by the airport?” Boone asked.

“That's affirmative,” Cale replied.

“Okay, I want you to drive up to the dispatch office,” he said. “Find out what the hell their problem is.”

“Ten-Four,” Cale replied. He put his notepad down on the passenger seat and threw the car into gear, turning north as he exited the vacant lot.

The earthquake had been strange, but the light had been even stranger. It had expanded and stained his vision, his squad car, his town with a sudden force, and yet it seemed gentle. Having been engulfed in that light, he felt no heat, no strange sensations. In fact, he felt... comfortable, even though the panic center of his brain had been in distinct overload.

Cale rounded the corner next to the airport and came onto a long straight stretch of the highway. Up ahead, he could see a lineup of vehicles, all having parked on the side of the road. There were people mulling about outside.

As he approached them, Cale noticed something off about the road. It looked different somehow, but he couldn't quite place it. It wasn't until he drew nearer to the train of vehicles that he really got a good look at the highway north of the airport.

It wasn't there.

It was gone. Cale blinked in surprise. He looked over towards the airport and noticed that the terminal building wasn't all there either. The southern wing stood silently in the dark, but it just seemed to end, like the highway, and carry on into a strange forest.

Cale drove up towards the vehicle train and slowed down as he approached the mass of people gathered in the center of the highway. At the front of the train, a large truck seemed to be tottering over a lip in the road. Beyond that, the ground continued a few feet below the level of the highway and carried on northward through the strange forest.

Cale took a moment to get out of his car. He had to be sure of what he was seeing. As he walked towards the crowd of people, a large man with a bloody nose was running up to him.

"Hey! You got any idea what this is about?" he asked. Cale assumed he drove the Big Rig at the front which appeared to have gone off the edge of the road and crashed into a tree.

Cale made a calming gesture and continued to walk up to the cut in the road.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You tell me. I'm making my run, driving down the highway, the ground starts shaking, then this goddamned light blinds me. The next thing I know, the highway's gone and I'm slamming the brakes to avoid hitting them trees,” he said. The man frowned. “Fat lot of good that did me. I tell you what, ICBC better not up my premiums.”

Cale walked to the edge of the road and ran his finger along the pavement at the break. It was a clean break. Like a razor. He looked to the remains of a tree where only minutes ago, highway and asphalt had been. It, too had been cut cleanly through the middle. Cale ran his hands along it. Not even a splinter, it was if the trees had been sanded down to perfection. He looked again to the airport, it had only half a runway before the strange forest took over. The small RV dealership on the side of the highway was faring much the same. Some still stood there, motionless, but others had been cut in much the same fashion, leaving half, or even a quarter of an RV standing lopsided. A few old planes littered the grounds, and he could see what was left of a Cessna, leaning against a tree beyond the border of the cut.

Cale traced the cut past the airport, into the farming areas in Whitepoint. It seemed to curve around to the east. Looking west, he managed to make the same trace, watching the cut as it curved around in the distance through Cedarwood.

He noticed something else, too, looking west. A mountain. A mountain that hadn't been there the last time he drove past. He had no doubts that the strange cut in the road curved all the way to the south of town, and met up in a fashion like what he was seeing.

"Ten-Tango, call Ten-Charlie," his radio rang out. Shelly's voice sounded frantic.

"Go ahead, Ten-Charlie," Boone's irritated voice said.

"Sir, there's something wrong. We're not... the moon, sir. I--"

Cale's eyes whipped up to the sky, where the moon should have been. It was behind cloud cover, but Shelly would probably be able to see it fine from where she was.

"Christ, Littleton! Are you a cop or a little girl?" Boone swore. "Out with it!"

"Sir, the moon is... different," she said.

The people gathered around Cale in inspecting the cut all heard, and each whipped their heads upwards. The cloud cover was beginning to slide over the edge of the moon. The blue edge, of a large blue moon. But it wasn't a moon. It was a Goddamn planet. He could hear gasps from all around him, and his own jaw dropped in the midst of it.

“Isn't that a hell of a thing?” Cale asked nobody in particular.

"Aliens," the trucker said. "Goddamn aliens, man. They took us."

“Let's not jump to conclusions,” one of the other people standing around said. Cale looked over to see Randy Curtis, one of the local loggers, obviously on his way to his work site. “Have you seen any little gray men?”

“Then you explain that!” the trucker exclaimed, stabbing his finger towards the offending heavenly body.

Randy shrugged. “Can't. Maybe it's not for us to know. God and whatnot.”

He heard no forthcoming reply from Boone. Cale assumed that he was seeing what Cale was seeing, and he needed a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“There's a God damned planet up there!” the trucker exclaimed.

Cale was looking at a planet. An oceanic moon, to be precise. Complete with an atmosphere, as evident by the cloud cover moving across the planet's surface.

He picked up his radio and spoke into it. "Ten-Tango, Ten-Bravo," he began. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "We've got more problems, Tango.”

“Christ, what now?” Boone came back, angrily.

“Nanaimo's gone,” Cale said. “The road ends by the airport. We're at the edge of some kind of forest. I don't think we're... I don't think we're home anymore." He didn't need to specify what he meant by home. "I think the whole damn town's somewhere else."

There were a few more moments of silence. Cale assumed Boone needed another moment or two to assimilate this.

Finally, Boone replied. "All right,” he said, breaking out of code. “You two are on your own for a little while. Try to keep people calm, I've got to go wake up a few people. We'll RV at City Hall in an hour.”
 
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