Before proceeding, I have to lay my cards on the table: I am a hip-hop head. It's difficult to say when I heard my first rap song (my guess is somewhere around 11 or 12), however at the time I was not into the genre as a whole. But I know that my love for music blossomed by the time I reached college, which I must thank my friend Drew for, as he introduced me to my now favorite artist, Lil' Wayne. From there, I immersed myself into the world of hip-hop, expanded my knowledge to new and varying artists from different areas of the country (and sometimes, the world).
Now, onto the point of this post. I had the fortune and luck of perfect timing to obtain two tickets for Wayne's first tour since being released from prison three months ago. I'll save the long story of how I came to obtain said tickets, but some bulletpoints: CraigsList, texts, new Facebook friend, drive to Providence and back in one night, BOOM.
I would not consider myself a concert veteran, but I've been to around 15-20 shows, ranging from small clubs in Northampton to the Meadowlands in Jersey. I have witnessed the relatively small fish (Deer Tick) to the nationally revered (Bruce Springsteen). For hip-hop, I've nodded along to some of the most notable names to date: Wiz Khalifa (twice), Kanye (twice), Lupe Fiasco, Common, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj, J. Cole, Wale, Ludacris (the list goes on) and, as of last Wednesday, Lil' Wayne.
Listing my concert experiences may seem trivial, but they serve the purpose of comparison, albeit personal. Every act carries its' own flavor to a show; they can energize and ignite a crowd, or produce a calm and mellow environment for the duration of the performance. Both kinds of shows offer a unique experience, with Wayne being a user of the former formula. From the opening notes of "I'm Goin' In" to the closing silence as Weezy acapella freestyled his way out of the building, the crowd was completely captivated. Despite the obvious presence of a DJ, there was an accompanying live band that added a lot of ferocity to the music; the multiple instances of pyrotechnics also brought some heat to the concert. During his performance, it was inherently clear that Wayne totally invests his life into music, as his energy never faltered throughout the show. There must be no excitement quite like hearing 30,000 some odd people screaming along with your every word.
I did my best to provide an unbiased and neutral review of the concert, so as to avoid the "dick riding, Wayne loving" stereotype that is so vehemently placed on a topic such as this one. Plain and simple, the main is an entertainer to the fullest and is worth every cent of the ticket price you pay (provided you don't mind having girls screaming at the top of their lungs everywhere around you, at every moment of the show...seriously, where do girls get the voice capacity to scream continuously for 4 hours without hesitation?) It was a monumental experience for me, and I highly advise you take part. If you're favorite artist is in town, no matter who it is (Rolling Stones, Deadmau5, Jay-Z, Justin Bieber), go. You will absolutely regret not taking advantage of such an opportunity, and you may miss your only chance. Stay true y'all.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
BREAKING NEWS!
After a month or so of talking and planning, my friends and I have decided to launch a clothing line. Coinciding with this company, we will be developing and maintaining a new blog, covering topics such as music, movies, clothing, news, etc. (and anything people want us to talk about). We want our customers - and possible fans - to have the utmost accessibility to us and our product. In reality, I highly doubt anybody follows this blog actively, but I am content with that; it'll be on the back-burner while the other is created and edited. However, for those of you who do check out my writing whenever I (rarely) write something new, please help us out and spread the word. There is a reason our generation is referred to as Generation Y, or the Millennials; our upbringing and education have been delivered alongside the stunning evolution of technology and social media. The connectivity of our species has grown exponentially since the early introductions of the Internet, to the point where Facebook can be deemed the third largest country in the world. Again, I ask for your assistance in distributing the creation of the blog, which soon will be easily accessed by going to stay-original.tumblr.com. Spread the word y'all!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Gumshoe
3 AM. The snow is heavier than predicted, collecting in heaps on the icy roads outside the apartment building. Freezing puddles form in the recesses of the street, splashing onto passerby with each passing car. The smoke drifts from my mouth as I blow out the last puff of my cigarette. The bitter taste of nicotine burns at the back of my throat and reminds me of everything I've seen tonight. Everything that has led me back to my place and has me standing where I am now, pulling my long coat closer to my body as a cold wind sends a shiver coursing through my limbs; or is it the adrenaline? Regardless, I reach into my pocket and pull out the .45 and my final clip, load the chamber and cock back the hammer. This M1911 and I have spilled a lot of blood tonight in search of answers, each victim whispering a name before I painted their walls with crimson. With every dead body there was a new person to find, leading me onward like a bloodhound with its nose to the ground, catching the scent of my prey. Hard to believe this is how it's all going to end. My right hand opens the door and I start to climb the stairs, quietly tiptoeing up each step. On the second floor, I turn down the hallway and read the numbers on the doors; 204, 206, 208. Finally, I hold my breath and stare at the door to apartment 214. Voices inside, three or four, all men yelling and laughing with one another. The stench of cigars and whiskey and sweat creep under the door while music plays in the background. I shake off the nerves and knock; instantly the music stops and the voices drop to whispers. The scuffing sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floorboards seem to echo throughout the entire building as footsteps approach the door. "Who's there," a deep voice asks; the distinct sound of a handgun being cocked follows the silence. Once I see the shadow of his feet, I lift my leg and kick down the door...
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Abduction of Mia
New piece I have written for the story, this one helps to explain the origin of Mia's violent nature and what leads her to kill.
Mia was eleven years old when she was kidnapped by two men outside the supermarket in her town. Her mother had gone back inside to collect some forgotten items from the shopping list, leaving Mia alone for just a few minutes. She doesn’t remember their exact words, but she will never forget the tall man’s toothy grin and the short man’s sweaty palms. By the time she realized they weren’t taking her home, it was far too late to call for help.
Night fell and Mia no longer recognized where they were. They had been driving into the heart of Montana for what seemed like hours and Mia was exhausted. The men pulled down a long stretch of dirt road and pulled up at a one level house, which looked more like a shack than a home. The windows had been boarded shut and sealed, broken shards of glass gathered in a pile underneath the window sill. The white paint was chipped away and showed the rotted brown guts of the wood underneath. Termites dined on the splinters and gnawed at the knots, leaving tiny craters in the walls and stairs leading into the house. Mia recalls the musty scent of mold and moisture emanating from the basement as she was carried down the stairs and placed into a small cot. The small light bulb offered little visibility as it swung gently in the middle of the room, moved occasionally by a small drift from the cracks in the wood. Each time they came downstairs, she would look only at the light through watery eyes, eventually weeping silently while her childhood ebbed away. The food they gave her afterwards was solely for their own benefit; skinny girls were not to their liking.
Days passed outside the windows but she couldn’t tell how many. The light bulb eventually died and Mia was cast into the Darkness. For almost four days she was held in total blackness, the visits became more sporadic and unorganized as time crawled on. They preferred coming in the dark, which left Mia all alone during the few hours of daylight. Each night the door opened, Mia’s heart hammered at her chest and her headed started to spin, vomit threatened at the back of her throat. She began to fight back, scratching at their faces and hands, biting whatever they put near her face. The more they came, the harder she fought. By the third day, she had used enough time and sunlight to fashion a jagged blade from a rusty piece of her cot, having ground the metal against the concrete floor. The short man came first, the tall man waited upstairs for his turn. In the pitch black room, there was no light to reflect off the metal; he never saw it coming. Instinct told her to kill him right away, but the Darkness made her wait. She felt his breaths get shorter and louder, and knew it was time to strike. Even with no light she could tell where his face was and stared up at him as she stabbed his neck over and over. Blood pooled around her and she pulled herself from underneath his lifeless body, tiptoeing up the stairwell to the first floor. At the top of the stairs she peeked through the open door and saw the tall man with his back to her, seated at a table and newspaper in hand. An axe rested on the wall behind him, within her reach. She crept out from the basement stairwell and gripped the axe with both hands, and raised it above his head before she brought it crashing down on his skull. The only identifying piece of his head were his teeth, spread across the kitchen table and floor. Mia was found walking down the highway, the dress she had been wearing when she was first caught was covered with blood. The officers said she was eerily calm.
Copyright Liam Feldstein © 2010
Mia was eleven years old when she was kidnapped by two men outside the supermarket in her town. Her mother had gone back inside to collect some forgotten items from the shopping list, leaving Mia alone for just a few minutes. She doesn’t remember their exact words, but she will never forget the tall man’s toothy grin and the short man’s sweaty palms. By the time she realized they weren’t taking her home, it was far too late to call for help.
Night fell and Mia no longer recognized where they were. They had been driving into the heart of Montana for what seemed like hours and Mia was exhausted. The men pulled down a long stretch of dirt road and pulled up at a one level house, which looked more like a shack than a home. The windows had been boarded shut and sealed, broken shards of glass gathered in a pile underneath the window sill. The white paint was chipped away and showed the rotted brown guts of the wood underneath. Termites dined on the splinters and gnawed at the knots, leaving tiny craters in the walls and stairs leading into the house. Mia recalls the musty scent of mold and moisture emanating from the basement as she was carried down the stairs and placed into a small cot. The small light bulb offered little visibility as it swung gently in the middle of the room, moved occasionally by a small drift from the cracks in the wood. Each time they came downstairs, she would look only at the light through watery eyes, eventually weeping silently while her childhood ebbed away. The food they gave her afterwards was solely for their own benefit; skinny girls were not to their liking.
Days passed outside the windows but she couldn’t tell how many. The light bulb eventually died and Mia was cast into the Darkness. For almost four days she was held in total blackness, the visits became more sporadic and unorganized as time crawled on. They preferred coming in the dark, which left Mia all alone during the few hours of daylight. Each night the door opened, Mia’s heart hammered at her chest and her headed started to spin, vomit threatened at the back of her throat. She began to fight back, scratching at their faces and hands, biting whatever they put near her face. The more they came, the harder she fought. By the third day, she had used enough time and sunlight to fashion a jagged blade from a rusty piece of her cot, having ground the metal against the concrete floor. The short man came first, the tall man waited upstairs for his turn. In the pitch black room, there was no light to reflect off the metal; he never saw it coming. Instinct told her to kill him right away, but the Darkness made her wait. She felt his breaths get shorter and louder, and knew it was time to strike. Even with no light she could tell where his face was and stared up at him as she stabbed his neck over and over. Blood pooled around her and she pulled herself from underneath his lifeless body, tiptoeing up the stairwell to the first floor. At the top of the stairs she peeked through the open door and saw the tall man with his back to her, seated at a table and newspaper in hand. An axe rested on the wall behind him, within her reach. She crept out from the basement stairwell and gripped the axe with both hands, and raised it above his head before she brought it crashing down on his skull. The only identifying piece of his head were his teeth, spread across the kitchen table and floor. Mia was found walking down the highway, the dress she had been wearing when she was first caught was covered with blood. The officers said she was eerily calm.
Copyright Liam Feldstein © 2010
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Mia Is Caught Part Three
Final part of this scene, again give me any opinion you've got.
His footsteps are heavy on the floor and shake Mia awake again, she feels less groggy than earlier; the dosage is wearing off. The man is putting the finishing touches to a white banner that stretches across the fireplace, which is now covered with a white satin sheet that must have cost a pretty penny or two. It almost looks as if he is going to put on a debate, with the podium in front of the sheet and the folding chairs set up in neat rows facing the whole set.
“Oh my,” he says through a smile, his white teeth gleaming in light of the room. “You’re almost awake. Better hurry up then, I don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” Mia’s world again starts to go black, but not before he begins to remove her blouse. By the time her pants are undone, she is unconscious once more.
You’re usually very meticulous and observant, but tonight you are a little off your game. Instead of checking your surroundings before heading inside, you simply ran on in and didn’t look to see the black van parked a block down the street. After cutting you off like that, it would seem pretty obvious that you would notice it again. Sadly, you were far too distracted with the hunt, which is certainly understandable; the hunt can be quite consuming. The guy tells you to help yourself to some wine while he freshens up in the bathroom, really he is just jerking off to prepare himself for the anticipation of sex. You know it wouldn’t get that far though; it’s not your style. You enjoy leading them to dream of your beautiful naked body writhing with theirs in fits of grinding and deep breathing, right before you cut their hearts out and show them the still beating organ pumping in your blood soaked hands. It’s only been watched once; you’re admittedly difficult to sneak up on in the middle of your work.
You’re sitting in the chair, waiting for him to exit the bathroom so you can commence the ritual. Sorry to spoil your plans, but there are other things afoot here. As he comes out and looks at you, I strike from the shadows. The toxins in the syringe are enough to kill a small horse, so plenty to drop a man to the floor. I hate that you come at me so violently because I am not here to hurt you as well. The needle I stuck into your throat only contains a strong sedative, which will give me enough time to set up the room like one of those cheap wedding halls. It’s not perfect, but the message is more important than its delivery.
Once you wake up, everything will be revealed to you: how everything you’ve done for the last six months has been carefully observed and noted, how your patterns and style were learned from those observations, so much that I could almost predict exactly how and where you would kill your victim, which interestingly enough, is how I found myself here. But I have been making plans on my own as well, timing and plotting to a point so that nothing could go wrong. Once you wake up, I will tell you all of this, and open my heart to you, Mia. Hopefully, after you know who I am, you will love me like I love you. Hopefully, you will accept my ring and join me in marriage. We will do wonderfully awful things together, you’ll see. Once you wake up, we can start our life together. Wake up, sleepy head.
His footsteps are heavy on the floor and shake Mia awake again, she feels less groggy than earlier; the dosage is wearing off. The man is putting the finishing touches to a white banner that stretches across the fireplace, which is now covered with a white satin sheet that must have cost a pretty penny or two. It almost looks as if he is going to put on a debate, with the podium in front of the sheet and the folding chairs set up in neat rows facing the whole set.
“Oh my,” he says through a smile, his white teeth gleaming in light of the room. “You’re almost awake. Better hurry up then, I don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” Mia’s world again starts to go black, but not before he begins to remove her blouse. By the time her pants are undone, she is unconscious once more.
You’re usually very meticulous and observant, but tonight you are a little off your game. Instead of checking your surroundings before heading inside, you simply ran on in and didn’t look to see the black van parked a block down the street. After cutting you off like that, it would seem pretty obvious that you would notice it again. Sadly, you were far too distracted with the hunt, which is certainly understandable; the hunt can be quite consuming. The guy tells you to help yourself to some wine while he freshens up in the bathroom, really he is just jerking off to prepare himself for the anticipation of sex. You know it wouldn’t get that far though; it’s not your style. You enjoy leading them to dream of your beautiful naked body writhing with theirs in fits of grinding and deep breathing, right before you cut their hearts out and show them the still beating organ pumping in your blood soaked hands. It’s only been watched once; you’re admittedly difficult to sneak up on in the middle of your work.
You’re sitting in the chair, waiting for him to exit the bathroom so you can commence the ritual. Sorry to spoil your plans, but there are other things afoot here. As he comes out and looks at you, I strike from the shadows. The toxins in the syringe are enough to kill a small horse, so plenty to drop a man to the floor. I hate that you come at me so violently because I am not here to hurt you as well. The needle I stuck into your throat only contains a strong sedative, which will give me enough time to set up the room like one of those cheap wedding halls. It’s not perfect, but the message is more important than its delivery.
Once you wake up, everything will be revealed to you: how everything you’ve done for the last six months has been carefully observed and noted, how your patterns and style were learned from those observations, so much that I could almost predict exactly how and where you would kill your victim, which interestingly enough, is how I found myself here. But I have been making plans on my own as well, timing and plotting to a point so that nothing could go wrong. Once you wake up, I will tell you all of this, and open my heart to you, Mia. Hopefully, after you know who I am, you will love me like I love you. Hopefully, you will accept my ring and join me in marriage. We will do wonderfully awful things together, you’ll see. Once you wake up, we can start our life together. Wake up, sleepy head.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Mia Is Caught Part Two
Second part of this scene, third one coming in the following days. Let me know what you think!
Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Mia brushes the rest of the lion droppings into the trash bag and dusts off her pants and shirt. The park is closing, and she couldn’t be any happier. It allows her to be free from the grinds of a job, free to do what she wants with who she wants. After changing out of her work clothes in the women’s locker room, Mia heads out to have a drink at King’s Grill, the restaurant and bar a few blocks from the San Diego Zoo. Fifteen minutes of driving through slightly congested Californian traffic and Mia walks up to the bar and takes a seat. At the other end having a drink with some work buddies is Brian Shanahan, wealthy father of two beautiful girls, resident of the wonderful city of San Diego for almost thirteen months. Previously, he lived, alone, in Phoenix and was charged with raping a fifteen-year-old girl. Yet, that’s not what brought Mia here tonight; she wasn’t interested in his crimes of passion. She is more intrigued by the hunt of tracking and killing the man, whoever she happens to choose.
Through the smoky haze thickening in the air, Mia observes him while he drinks his last night away. Although preferring the victim to be awake, she has come across her share of drunken slobbering assholes that create a different kind of enjoyment for her; they’re number to the blade. The way their eyes go from ecstasy to sheer terror in milliseconds really made Mia’s heart pump harder and blood flow faster. The dumbfounded look on their faces once they realize she has been plunging away at their vital areas, steadily draining away their life. Tonight, it is Mr. Shanahan’s night to experience just that. Researching and following led Mia to King’s, where he drinks with his friends every Thursday night after work. He is always out late those nights, so there will be no trouble from a worried wife before the job is done. On very frequent occasions, the married man would delve into the world of bar girl hook-ups, which will work to Mia’s advantage. After he finishes his second drink, she makes her way to the opposite end of the bar and heads him off at the bathroom. Exchanging flirtatious looks and smiles, they introduce themselves and decide to share a drink.
Her mind is swimming in circles, never stopping or allowing her to focus the thoughts. For a few brief moments, her eyes flutter open and she glimpses the scene in front of her before going unconscious again. His body is gone and there isn’t a trace of a struggle. Frozen in a pane of light, the man is stringing up some kind of poster and has moved the furniture away towards the walls. With the wife and children gone on vacation, the empty house was the perfect place for it. However, the tables have been turned on her and she is now the apparent victim.
“Just wait, you’ll love it,” the man says. “Once I’m done here, everything will be different. Your life will change completely!”
He tells her his house is empty, and they can go there to have some more private drinks. Mia convinces him to drive separately, as she needs her car in the morning for work. It was a nice excuse to cover her plan of not being a suspect in his inevitable murder investigation. Before driving over, Mia opens her trunk and checks to make sure all her supplies are there. Unzipping the duffel bag, she quickly scans its contents and finds her knives, rope, trash bags and other little trinkets she will use throughout the process. Satisfied she gets into the car and drives to his house, where her prize eagerly waits for her arrival. Sitting at a red light two blocks from his address, Mia stares ahead and smiles; finally the weight will be lifted off of her shoulders. The light turns green and she accelerates through the intersection, when a maniac cuts her off trying to turn in front of her SUV. Honking and cursing, Mia glares at the man behind the wheel, who reacts with a smile and wave and speeds off into the dark and turns down the street after Brian’s. Making note of his license plate number, Mia seems to have already found her next target. She shakes her head and moves on, turning down his street and into his garage, so as to mask her presence here tonight. A sweet smile swims across her silent and sultry face while she slips into his house.
Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Mia brushes the rest of the lion droppings into the trash bag and dusts off her pants and shirt. The park is closing, and she couldn’t be any happier. It allows her to be free from the grinds of a job, free to do what she wants with who she wants. After changing out of her work clothes in the women’s locker room, Mia heads out to have a drink at King’s Grill, the restaurant and bar a few blocks from the San Diego Zoo. Fifteen minutes of driving through slightly congested Californian traffic and Mia walks up to the bar and takes a seat. At the other end having a drink with some work buddies is Brian Shanahan, wealthy father of two beautiful girls, resident of the wonderful city of San Diego for almost thirteen months. Previously, he lived, alone, in Phoenix and was charged with raping a fifteen-year-old girl. Yet, that’s not what brought Mia here tonight; she wasn’t interested in his crimes of passion. She is more intrigued by the hunt of tracking and killing the man, whoever she happens to choose.
Through the smoky haze thickening in the air, Mia observes him while he drinks his last night away. Although preferring the victim to be awake, she has come across her share of drunken slobbering assholes that create a different kind of enjoyment for her; they’re number to the blade. The way their eyes go from ecstasy to sheer terror in milliseconds really made Mia’s heart pump harder and blood flow faster. The dumbfounded look on their faces once they realize she has been plunging away at their vital areas, steadily draining away their life. Tonight, it is Mr. Shanahan’s night to experience just that. Researching and following led Mia to King’s, where he drinks with his friends every Thursday night after work. He is always out late those nights, so there will be no trouble from a worried wife before the job is done. On very frequent occasions, the married man would delve into the world of bar girl hook-ups, which will work to Mia’s advantage. After he finishes his second drink, she makes her way to the opposite end of the bar and heads him off at the bathroom. Exchanging flirtatious looks and smiles, they introduce themselves and decide to share a drink.
Her mind is swimming in circles, never stopping or allowing her to focus the thoughts. For a few brief moments, her eyes flutter open and she glimpses the scene in front of her before going unconscious again. His body is gone and there isn’t a trace of a struggle. Frozen in a pane of light, the man is stringing up some kind of poster and has moved the furniture away towards the walls. With the wife and children gone on vacation, the empty house was the perfect place for it. However, the tables have been turned on her and she is now the apparent victim.
“Just wait, you’ll love it,” the man says. “Once I’m done here, everything will be different. Your life will change completely!”
He tells her his house is empty, and they can go there to have some more private drinks. Mia convinces him to drive separately, as she needs her car in the morning for work. It was a nice excuse to cover her plan of not being a suspect in his inevitable murder investigation. Before driving over, Mia opens her trunk and checks to make sure all her supplies are there. Unzipping the duffel bag, she quickly scans its contents and finds her knives, rope, trash bags and other little trinkets she will use throughout the process. Satisfied she gets into the car and drives to his house, where her prize eagerly waits for her arrival. Sitting at a red light two blocks from his address, Mia stares ahead and smiles; finally the weight will be lifted off of her shoulders. The light turns green and she accelerates through the intersection, when a maniac cuts her off trying to turn in front of her SUV. Honking and cursing, Mia glares at the man behind the wheel, who reacts with a smile and wave and speeds off into the dark and turns down the street after Brian’s. Making note of his license plate number, Mia seems to have already found her next target. She shakes her head and moves on, turning down his street and into his garage, so as to mask her presence here tonight. A sweet smile swims across her silent and sultry face while she slips into his house.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Mia Is Caught Part One
One part of a piece I wrote...It's way too long to put up in once piece, so I'm going to do three parts of it over the next week or so. Let me know what you think of it.
Mia crosses her legs gently while sipping her wine, lips pressed lightly on the edge of the glass. Her light red lipstick leaves a small stain, a reminder of her presence here tonight; it will be dealt with afterwards. Her garishly great green eyes wandered the room, taking in everything before it was all a memory. Each photo on the wall is a piece of his life: posing with the parents at college graduation, staged vacation Kodak moment with the family, candid laughing shot with the wife. He oozes from the pictures, surrounding Mia with his stench which made her stomach turn.
He emerges from the bathroom, looking slightly nervous and nauseous. His black hair is messy, an attempt at appearing younger for his possibly middle-aged body. Standing at a few inches over six feet, he could sink into a crowd and melt away in nothing, never to be seen by anyone. Mia had been pondering him for quite some time, trying to decide his fate. A needle darts from the shadows and dives into his neck, the plunger depressed until the syringe was empty. His boyishly big brown eyes roll back into his head, and he drops to the floor, dead.
With her heart pounding, Mia shoots out of her chair and digs in her bag for the knife, whose intended victim is now lying dead on the floor. Before she can make a move, he closes in and disarms her. It falls to the rugged floor and he kicks it out of her reach. Reaching back to smack him, Mia throws all her weight in his direction, hoping to overthrow him. Dodging the punch, he unearths another syringe from his belt and pierces her throat, forcing the toxin into her blood stream. Instantly, Mia’s world begins to slow down and darken as she stumbles back into her seat. The man’s face slides in and out of focus, but she can make out a look of relief and almost glee; she has met her match.
“Hush now darling, soon it will all become clear,” he says, the room spinning behind him, forcing Mia’s eyes shut. “Won’t be long now, until you know the truth. Soon, it’ll all be over.”
Her mind goes black, and everything is quiet, peaceful. Mia drifts off into a dream world, her very memories being replayed in her subconscious.
Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Mia brushes the rest of the lion droppings into the trash bag and dusts off her pants and shirt. The park is closing, and she couldn’t be any happier. It allows her to be free from the grinds of a job, free to do what she wants with who she wants. After changing out of her work clothes in the women’s locker room, Mia heads out to have a drink at King’s Grill, the restaurant and bar a few blocks from the San Diego Zoo. Fifteen minutes of driving through slightly congested Californian traffic and Mia walks up to the bar and takes a seat. At the other end having a drink with some work buddies is Brian Shanahan, wealthy father of two beautiful girls, resident of the wonderful city of San Diego for almost thirteen months. Previously, he lived, alone, in Phoenix and was charged with raping a fifteen-year-old girl. Yet, that’s not what brought Mia here tonight; she wasn’t interested in his crimes of passion. She is more intrigued by the hunt of tracking and killing the man, whoever she happens to choose.
Through the smoky haze thickening in the air, Mia observes him while he drinks his last night away. Although preferring the victim to be awake, she has come across her share of drunken slobbering assholes that create a different kind of enjoyment for her; they’re number to the blade. The way their eyes go from ecstasy to sheer terror in milliseconds really made Mia’s heart pump harder and blood flow faster. The dumbfounded look on their faces once they realize she has been plunging away at their vital areas, steadily draining away their life. Tonight, it is Mr. Shanahan’s night to experience just that. Researching and following led Mia to King’s, where he drinks with his friends every Thursday night after work. He is always out late those nights, so there will be no trouble from a worried wife before the job is done. On very frequent occasions, the married man would delve into the world of bar girl hook-ups, which will work to Mia’s advantage. After he finishes his second drink, she makes her way to the opposite end of the bar and heads him off at the bathroom. Exchanging flirtatious looks and smiles, they introduce themselves and decide to share a drink.
Mia crosses her legs gently while sipping her wine, lips pressed lightly on the edge of the glass. Her light red lipstick leaves a small stain, a reminder of her presence here tonight; it will be dealt with afterwards. Her garishly great green eyes wandered the room, taking in everything before it was all a memory. Each photo on the wall is a piece of his life: posing with the parents at college graduation, staged vacation Kodak moment with the family, candid laughing shot with the wife. He oozes from the pictures, surrounding Mia with his stench which made her stomach turn.
He emerges from the bathroom, looking slightly nervous and nauseous. His black hair is messy, an attempt at appearing younger for his possibly middle-aged body. Standing at a few inches over six feet, he could sink into a crowd and melt away in nothing, never to be seen by anyone. Mia had been pondering him for quite some time, trying to decide his fate. A needle darts from the shadows and dives into his neck, the plunger depressed until the syringe was empty. His boyishly big brown eyes roll back into his head, and he drops to the floor, dead.
With her heart pounding, Mia shoots out of her chair and digs in her bag for the knife, whose intended victim is now lying dead on the floor. Before she can make a move, he closes in and disarms her. It falls to the rugged floor and he kicks it out of her reach. Reaching back to smack him, Mia throws all her weight in his direction, hoping to overthrow him. Dodging the punch, he unearths another syringe from his belt and pierces her throat, forcing the toxin into her blood stream. Instantly, Mia’s world begins to slow down and darken as she stumbles back into her seat. The man’s face slides in and out of focus, but she can make out a look of relief and almost glee; she has met her match.
“Hush now darling, soon it will all become clear,” he says, the room spinning behind him, forcing Mia’s eyes shut. “Won’t be long now, until you know the truth. Soon, it’ll all be over.”
Her mind goes black, and everything is quiet, peaceful. Mia drifts off into a dream world, her very memories being replayed in her subconscious.
Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Mia brushes the rest of the lion droppings into the trash bag and dusts off her pants and shirt. The park is closing, and she couldn’t be any happier. It allows her to be free from the grinds of a job, free to do what she wants with who she wants. After changing out of her work clothes in the women’s locker room, Mia heads out to have a drink at King’s Grill, the restaurant and bar a few blocks from the San Diego Zoo. Fifteen minutes of driving through slightly congested Californian traffic and Mia walks up to the bar and takes a seat. At the other end having a drink with some work buddies is Brian Shanahan, wealthy father of two beautiful girls, resident of the wonderful city of San Diego for almost thirteen months. Previously, he lived, alone, in Phoenix and was charged with raping a fifteen-year-old girl. Yet, that’s not what brought Mia here tonight; she wasn’t interested in his crimes of passion. She is more intrigued by the hunt of tracking and killing the man, whoever she happens to choose.
Through the smoky haze thickening in the air, Mia observes him while he drinks his last night away. Although preferring the victim to be awake, she has come across her share of drunken slobbering assholes that create a different kind of enjoyment for her; they’re number to the blade. The way their eyes go from ecstasy to sheer terror in milliseconds really made Mia’s heart pump harder and blood flow faster. The dumbfounded look on their faces once they realize she has been plunging away at their vital areas, steadily draining away their life. Tonight, it is Mr. Shanahan’s night to experience just that. Researching and following led Mia to King’s, where he drinks with his friends every Thursday night after work. He is always out late those nights, so there will be no trouble from a worried wife before the job is done. On very frequent occasions, the married man would delve into the world of bar girl hook-ups, which will work to Mia’s advantage. After he finishes his second drink, she makes her way to the opposite end of the bar and heads him off at the bathroom. Exchanging flirtatious looks and smiles, they introduce themselves and decide to share a drink.
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