Thursday, 31 March 2011
Monday, 17 January 2011
(Prologue - Anyone who knows me can tell you that I have been an obsessive fan of the AVP series since the first hint of it in Predator2, the comics, the books, the movies, the games, the toys, I can go on, but this is just a snippet of a book that I have been working on for years but never finished, enjoy...)
The fight for survival
Deep in the jungles of
Others of his kind lurked behind shielded by their invisibility and equally eager to pursue a hunt
Hakimu was a good hunter, a wise hunter. He had fought and killed many things in his prime years. His collection of trophies was highly impressive, and equally hard earned. He had hunted on this planet many times.
The Oomaans were challenging prey. Physically they were easy to kill, but they had intelligence on their side. They were constantly developing weapons and technology, and had an interest in hunting others of their own species. Hakimu had participated in many of these; he had taken youngsters into these battles to practice their skills.
Oomaans were always impressive as trophies, but they did not earn you the same respect as of an Akunde Amide.
Hakimu Had that respect, but he had further ambitions, he was after the ultimate prize, the queen. It would be his final trophy hunt.
Then he pictured the image of the elders face as he stroked the huge tail that the fearsome queen had pierced through his chest. Blood spurt over his tusks.
He had told Hakimu to be wise, escape and save himself, but that was not the hunter way. Infuriated at the loss of his mentor, he had lunged at the queen, fought like the true young warrior that he was. His speed, his skill, and his agility were tremendously challenging for her, until the moment that he had felt the choking grasp of her claws around his throat, realised his feet were no longer touching the ground, and he could smell the acidic stench of drool as it dripped from her jaws just inches from his face. Her eyeless long crowned head watched him from a face that had no eyes to stare back into. He sensed her inner jaws at the point of lunging out of her great skull, and at that moment he had pictured not an image of death, but the magnificence of that huge trophy, so close within his reach, and yet so unattainable.
He lived to tell the tale, tossed aside as the great beast faced off an onslaught by the Oomaans.
He owed them nothing, this was his fight, they did not interfere to save him, but to protect her, and now the Oomaans were themselves responsible for the infestation of the Akunde Amide on their planet.
One day we will open our eyes and realise that we have been living in a repetitive mindless world that f***ked with our emotions and made us slaves to materialism, self fulfilment and endless search for pleasure. Then when we look around with our newly opened eyes and regain consciousness, we will realise that being a prisoner of the old system was not so bad after all and we will close our eyes again promptly, and fall back in line.
Thursday, 6 January 2011
I submit to it, submerged in its dominance. Powerless, weak, and frail in my rationale to resist and overcome its tightening grip, I become a shadow within a shadow, a victim to this hungry beast that will stop at nothing to engulf my waking mind, to bite chunks out of my sanity and paralyse me to a state of vegetation. I sit twitching, my focus on the clock, that slow turning wheel that will eventually become my saviour and draw the beast back to the abyss of its lair.
As I cowl under the might of this beast, my brain; now a soiled sponge, drips away my thoughts like raindrops on a sunny day, they gather in a collective pool, magically bright and building in strength, and the beast of boredom recoils and snarls, it hisses and slithers and puts up a fight, but the thoughts rise up, they spin and they brew into the storm of storms, and from within that madness emerges a new creature, mightier and bolder, unstoppable in its quest to imagine and create a world within worlds. It towers over the beast of boredom; it’s menacing presence forcing it to retreat and drain back into the deepest depths of my mind.
Now that I have surpassed this boredom, I write to my hearts content, words that flow like never-ending steams which burst over the rocks and merge to embrace into a powerful waterfall that runs deep into the sea of creativity. The more that I write, the greater it flows, and all the while the beast of boredom lays quiet in its place, just waiting, the hunger expanding.
I feel the weight on my shoulders but never prepared myself for the impact
There is so much to lose and yet I cry over things never gained, I am a poor beggar in a rich mans society
The things I crave are the needs of many at a time when dreams are crumbling and hope fading
I am not selfish, I care only that my boat does not sink in an ocean that is riding the storms, that the people I carry do not sink beneath the waves of uncertainty and loss
I yearn for something hopeful to emerge from the depths of this chaos and carry us to safety, yet I understand how utterly unlikely this is to happen, and as the distant horizon disappears within the dark growling storm clouds,
I paddle on regardless, blind and helpless to what lies ahead.