Date: Tue, 21 Jun 2005 19:40:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Lexter Victorio <emperor_prophet@yahoo.com>
Subject: a day the earth stood still part 1

THIS STORY IS BASED ON SOMETHING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME IN MY LIFE, AND
THOUGH THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED, THE SCENES HAVE BEEN EMBELLISHED; THE
SPIRIT OF THE TRUTH PREVAILS...BECAUSE IT WILL ALWAYS HURT THE SAME WAY IT
DID WHEN I KNEW EVERYTHING. THIS IS A WAY FOR ME TO CONFESS MY ACTIONS,
THOUGH I DO NOT EXPECT ABSOLUTION FOR ANYTHING, NOR WILL I ASK FOR IT IN
WHEN ALL THINGS ARE ANSWERED FOR. SUCH THINGS DO HAPPEN IN LIFE THAT WE DO
NOT WANT, AND YET THEY ARE WHAT MAKE US PEOPLE, AND WE ARE WHAT MAKE THEM
HAPPEN. I AM PLACING MY E-MAIL ADDRESS HERE FOR YOUR WORDS, BUT PLEASE BE
POLITE; I HAVE ENOUGH FIRE IN MY MIND ALREADY. THIS WILL BE A SUCCESSION OF
POSTS BECAUSE I WANT THE WORLD (OR AT LEAST THOSE WHO READ THIS) TO
CONTEMPLATE EVERY SCENE AS THOUGH THEY WERE IN IT.
				    LEX

			 Emperor_prophet@yahoo.com

			 Of the Dagger in My Mind

What was in my thoughts when I did everything I did? Was it in pursuit of
lawful retribution or bloody vengeance, truth or personal gain, sacrifice
or torture? I toyed with the kukri in my hand and saw the glimmer of the
streetlights outside. I had made sure to turn all the lights off in our
house, so everyone else thinks I left with my friends. Heh, friends
indeed. I heard the weak attempts of someone to free herself behind me, and
turned to see Irma, my best friend, struggle in the entanglement of
packaging tape and rope.
   She was very beautiful, and also very loud, so I made sure to gag her
well. Her reddish hair was plastered with sweat on her face, and it added a
delicate touch to the fear in her eyes. "Do not try to free yourself," I
mumbled, walking slowly, deliberately to her, "I will remove pain from you
soon enough."
   Indeed, some things cannot be wholly explained when you arrive too late,
but then again, it makes everything more suspenseful. I placed the kukri's
tip very close to her eye, and then frightened her by pretending to stab
her in several places. The smell of her sweat had become like deadly
perfume in my curtained room, lit only by several little candles. I put my
nose to her neck and took a long, cliched, maniacal whiff of her sweat. It
was not intoxicating because it was made of fear, but because it was from
my best friend. I ripped the tape on her face and pulled out the gag, and
whispered, "You may call for help, but they'll come to a dead body anyway,
so don't try it." She breathed heavily and made to moan in confusion and
weakness, and looked at me with the same feelings in her eyes.
   "Lance...why?"
   "Why you death, why pain, why does it have to end this way? Irma, you
know very well the reasons why."
   "I don't know what you're getting at, please, let me go!" My, she was
young, but nothing she said can hide the fact that I could trust no one in
this world any more.
   "Do not lie to me, or I will slash you very slowly on your throat, just
like this."  The kukri was a very exotic-looking dagger; given to me by
someone once very dear. It had a small, tanned, leather handle, and a
pommel of polished amethyst. The blade itself was double edged, but
`swollen' on one edge and having a beak instead of a straight tip. I
polished it very carefully with foreign oils and used only lambskin paper
to wipe the dirt away; it was so sharp that it took little effort for me to
make Irma's outer thigh bleed. Thank goodness she was wearing short pants,
or I'd have ruined a good pair of her slacks.
   "No! Please! Don't do this!" Her voice was in a whisper now, good girl,
or I'd have done the same thing on her throat like I promised. The oil on
the kukri was so slippery, that the blood from her thigh trickled from the
blade and directly to my fingers. "Irma, will you promise to tell me the
truth now, now that you know how dangerous this is?" I kissed her on the
ear as she quickly nodded her head. I sat beside her on the floor like I
always did with her, and began my interrogation.
   "Irma, why didn't you tell me Einsland did it; why did you all have to
pretend it was someone else, when in fact you yourselves are guilty?"
   "I promise you, Lance, I didn't know he was dead serious in killing
Julian! All I knew is that he was gonna be joining Lambda Epsilon Xenia
that night!"
   "Truly? But then you always knew that he was a violent man when
provoked, which can be from a dirty finger to a sneeze. You never had the
wisdom to wonder why Einsland was suddenly asking Julian to join up with
almost every jock group in school, so you just thought they were being
friends." I passed the kukri to and fro in the hair stuck to her cheek, the
keen blade cutting little wet strands of them, and making red lines on her
skin. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, and she sobbed like a confused
child. But it would have been better for a cold heart to face her, for
there would still be a heart beating within.
   "Lance, I'm so sorry for this, but anything you do won't bring him
back!"
   "Naturally, my friend," I droned, and spat on her face, "killing you and
Einsland and everyone else won't bring my beloved Julian back, though it
will delight me, purify me, and heal my wounds." I sat up and pulled her
with me, and steadied her on her feet. The young woman was always the
winner of our city beauty pageants, and her plump breasts and high profile
arms and legs were proof enough of that. I took a long look at her in the
shadow and light of my room, amusing myself as she tried hard not to fall
(I had taped her legs too, the young woman was very fast when she needed to
be).
   "Where are you taking me?"
   "To Elysium, Irma, but first I shall make sure everyone will remember
you fondly." Sheathing the kukri in its scabbard, I replaced the gag on her
mouth and lifted her. Being a weight-watcher, she was light enough to be
handled in one arm, which made bringing her to my jeep real easy.

No cars were passing by the road I took, but I would be taking no chances,
so I stuffed her under the backseat that I made with...with Julian. The
trip would be slightly long, so I played some music on the jeep's CD player
to ease my already burning mind.  The music was burned onto the CD; a
recording of one of the most powerful and enigmatic plays in the whole
world.
   I was the Phantom of the Opera, and my Julian...was Raoul de Chagny,
while another friend of ours was beloved Christine Daae. The organ and
electric guitar created a symbiosis of opposing powers: awkward upon the
laws of common ears, but artful and divine in the hearts of the gods...us.
It was one of the most emotional scenes then, the final performance of
Christine to bait the Phantom, planned by Raoul. The play was written by
Phantom, and he had murdered the leading male singer to take his place. I
came to the stage dressed in a leather jacket and satin cape, and began the
song thusly...

You have come here, in pursuit of your
deepest urge,
In pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent,
silent . . .
I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge -
In your mind you've already succumbed to me,
Dropped all defences, completely
succumbed to me -- Now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've
decided, decided . . .
Past the point of no return, no backward
glances:
The games we've played till now are at an end . . .
Past all
thought of "if" or "when", no use resisting:
Abandon thought, and let the
dream descend . . .
What raging fire
shall flood the soul?
What rich
desire
unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction
lies before
us . . .?
Past
the point of no return, the final threshold -
What warm, unspoken secrets
will we learn?
Beyond the point of no return . . .

I knew it was true for
the present moment; there would be no turning back, for to do so would be
foolish and unforgivable, whether by God or Man. I had meditated deeply
upon my acts of vengeance, and knew that by thinking of such evil things,
there was truly no hope left. I thought back to that final performance
night, and a smile crossed my face. We were given a ten minute standing
ovation by the community and everyone invited; our performance was truly
grand. Julian was easily known to be the sexiest and most lovable character
compared to Kelly, our Christine. He had received several screams and
faints of approval from the girls, while the guys seethed with manly
jealousy. Of course, I was not to be outdone! Several flowers were
presented to me by many strangers, male and female alike. The joy I felt in
performing my dreams on stage was abundant, but it was nothing compared to
the euphoria I felt afterwards backstage.
   "Perfect, just perfect!"
   "Better than I expected."
   "You could very well go to Broadway!"
   Such praises from our teachers were true, because they made us work our
asses off for three months just to reach this point in time. Everyone was
in a hurry to go to their families and celebrate the victory, which was
what we wanted. "Fucking paradise right here, Lance!" whispered Julian in
the dressing room, ecstatic and still in his stage clothes. "We all rocked
out there, Julian: I know what you mean," I said, ever the jubilant
stoic. We heard a knock on the door and entered Irma with Einsland, her
boyfriend. Irma was jumping over everything as she gave both of us big
hugs; Einsland just stood there and nodded his approval (the cretin was
actually in the play, and so was Irma; minor roles nevertheless played with
heart).
   "You guys were so great, everyone just screamed for you."
   "Irma, everyone screamed for Julian and Kelly."
   "Nobody ever said you were humble, Lance, why start now?" retorted
Einsland in a sarcastic drawl. Basketball god of the local school,
jock-in-charge of most school events, and besides Julian, William Chester
Einsland was the most desirable man in the whole darned state. He had
everything that vanity could give: an impressive eight pack, maul arms, the
country basher look on his face, perfectly blonde hair and deadly brown
eyes. He also looked much older than he really was; which always gave him
an edge in dealing with people. Irma was a beautiful nobody actually; she
refused to join cheerleading because she was too frightened to be secretly
labelled "Popular Bimbo". Her rise to true fame was when she won prom
queen, and Julian was prom king. Everyone thought they would hit it off,
but Julian loved someone else. Oh, Irma was also evidently the tightest
twat in the galaxy, even after rolling around with Einsland's tool (you
will find out how I know soon enough).
   "Einsland, let's get out of here, we need to give them some private
time."
   "You just wanna jump my bull."
   "Oh, so you don't want a piece of me?"
   "See you guys next week!" They left without further ceremony, and left
my beloved and I to ourselves. Julian went to the door and locked it, and
to my astonishment, dragged a heavy chair to it as well. "Julian, I can
understand the locks, but a chair?" I queried, while taking off my cape. "I
don't want anything getting in the way of our lovemaking. No, wait, don't
take them off...let me do everything tonight."

Dearest Julian, he was more than just another pretty face to me. He
rivalled Einsland in physicality in all aspects: a smooth and pale body
that never seemed to tan in the sun, muscles that were ever fit and perfect
for his frame; everything that I never thought would be mine to touch. His
face was proportioned to fit his rugged form, with no fault in them...just
a few scratches from old fights that he would always be too shy to tell
anyone else. Of his black eyes there were specs of green, which gave him a
mystical (almost fictional) visage. Those were eyes that could demand in
silence, but never had the power to hide joy or anger. His lips were thick
and generous; a kisser's dream, and never did the day pass without him
planting many kinds of them on my skin. But of all the things I could be
proud of on his body; it was his beautiful, gelled black hair, bearded chin
and fair moustache that sucked me in a void. It was this lovely hair which
I was toying with now as he undid the clasps of my leather costume.
   "I love you, Lance."
   "As I love you and as everyone else loves you."
   "Come on, don't be jealous of the crowd, I'm very handsome so I can't
help it!"
   "Who said I'm jealous? Actually, I'm quite proud of that," I said as he
slowly took off my undershirt, and taking a nipple in his mouth, suckled on
it like it would bring mead, "proud that of all those people, I am yours
for the taking." A felt his teeth bite gently on it, and could not help but
moan in pleasure, but it shouldn't happen this fast. I whispered in his ear
that he take his clothes off like a stripper, which always made him blush.
"Why do you make me do these things? It makes me feel so...bad," he would
complain, but took them off with such eagerness and ardour that if it were
not rude, I would pay him. I played a disco tune in my head while I watched
him take his shirt off, and was always satisfied with what I saw.
   "Do you really love me, Lance?" Julian was both a closet homosexual, and
a closeted insecure young boy. "Yes, I do, my beloved, come and sit on my
lap." It had been three years that we had decided to live together, and
even longer that we loved each other. He was beautiful in all things, but
like I read in a book before, the greatest loneliness is when you are
better than everyone else. Hmm, then why don't I feel lonely? "Julian, kiss
me." Ah, yes, I have him.