I Am Getting Depressed

Check out the artist bryce – he wrote a new poem called “Untitled and Horrific”.

This is a special tutorial for those who want to post comments on this site. Ok. Listen carefully, you see that :talk: with a ” | ” and then a number ? Click that. Tutorial done, Mike (Clark). Was that so hard. I guess I assumed too much about my audience. I am sorry. Now a story I wrote.

In Class Writing Assignment #29 : South Duhkota

There seemed to be a mild spring scent to the air. I was walking, by myself (as usual), past the house where Mr. Smerin was found three days earlier and glancing towards the ditch where his wife was eventually discovered and I thought of how odd it had been.

It had looked like there was a murder, but there was no reason to murder these people. Mr. and Mrs. Smerin were nice and kind to everyone, but they were boring, and there was not a soul in town who much thought of them, let alone think to harm them. It was odd.

He had had his teeth removed in a sort of ritual, and they were placed in the form of a smiley face. Each tooth clung to bits of gum like a favorite sweater torn asunder and there was a large amount of blood highlighting the scene. Mr. Smerin’s right arm had been removed, well torn, from his body and it looked as if he had been beat with it. The arm, which appeared to have been twisted far enough to break at the elbow first before being wretched from his torso, was found nailed to the wall, under a painting by Terry Redlin.

I felt it coming. The cold breeze was one that existed only in my head, but I felt it chill my spine. It was close, the vision. Then things went black.


I saw Mr. Smerin. Smiling. His … wife, standing by their stove. The house was dark/damp/dusty. Little light, little else. The painting, the wall (pre-arm), Mrs. Smerin. Pie … apple. Then it went dark … lights out? Shades drawn. I saw their … daughter? I didn’t realize Mr. and Mrs. Smerin (close to 55 years old each) had a daughter. She looked 19. Pretty.

Knife. No, not a knife. Something sharp, no dull. Long at least with a handle. She fades out. I can never figure out what that means. At times, when I have these visions, the people fade out and fade in. Usually, it’s the attackers. She fades back.

Skip. Damn it, a skip. Dead bodies, no one body. Mr. Smerin. How did the girl do it? She’s removed her pictures from the wall. I can see her quite clearly. She turns and walks towards where I stand in the doorway. Where I’ve stood this whole time. She … sees me.

A chill, less imaginary, pierces my heart. Cold fear rises up. I feel sick.

She comes towards me, not afraid, not questioning, not mystified. I’m not sure how I would have looked to her, but I’m sure she couldn’t have been expecting me. She walks up and says, “Describe South Dakota culture.”

Terrified, I say, “I think that most South Dakotans are agricultural people. The parents all live under the illusion that they work hard, and that their children will never work as hard as they do/have. I think the children feel stifled and bored and so they use sometimes ill methods of entertainment.

“South Dakota is a simple place and most of the people are simple, too. Religious, caring, quiet sometimes, but often they are not that deep. They only care for few things and those things are work and family. I am not sure that I fit into this culture. I don’t so much as feel stifled as I feel that I am missing something that I could be a big part of.”

She’s quiet. She puts her hand to my cheek and kisses me. “Say hello to my parents for me.” And in a flash my mind goes back to before the murder, to what I saw.

It was a knife after all.

Wasn’t that interesting and worth the read. But wait, I have more. I found out something terribly depressing. Girls don’t want a deep, artistic, sensitive guy. No way. They want [ this ].

I am not and never will be that. So, it looks kinda bleak for the rest of my probably long and expensive life. The only way for me to deal with this is to either end my life – or Vin Diesels. That is why, I being much more important than he, I will begin my campaign to Kill Vin Diesel for good.

Or course, if he keeps making movies like “Fast and the Furious” I won’t have to do a thing! (oooo, baZing!)

| Who’s with me?? |

11 Replies to “I Am Getting Depressed”

  1. I like how you take a chilling sad depressing creepy story and end your post with comically wanting to murder an action movie star.
    Mom would be proud. Her son, the murderer unfulfilled.

  2. you know how porn films always rip off the names of movies, like “forrest gump” = “forrest rump”. with cool guy vin diesel’s film “XXX” the porn ripoff people wont have to think as hard.

  3. Personally, I don’t like Vin Diesel. I don’t think he’s sexy, I don’t think he’s a good actor, and I never saw XXX. In the Fast and the Furious – I’d totally take Paul Walker over Vin Diesel :)

  4. You shouldn’t worry about the girl picking the guy… girls are always wrong about that sort of thing, at leaste in my experience. So yes, stay true to yourself and you will find a girl you will like and with luck… you will never meet that one girl to mess up your life. To thy own self be true.

  5. ok, now why would you want to kill him? and how did you end up moving from (cue scary music) the psycho killer story to that? unless you’re linking transition is just killing in and of itself. but that’s dumb. like your plan, miles. it’s dumb like your plan. you just wait. we’ll see. we’ll see.

  6. it only hurts the empty souls whose only goal in life is to verbally abuse and beat down people. all along you’ve pretended to be my friend and trust-lock, but now i see the truth. actually, i’m not quite sure EXACTLY what it is, but i know it’s very unkind. someday your hidious devil actions will be seen and known to all. then, and soon, you will know all too well of the wrath and hatred that is ME. (cue evil laugh)

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