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  I am the Nowhere Man.
   Ripples of translucent blue streak overhead, in the sky, as diamonds peer down at me; only I can see.
   I am alone in a world gone mad; ain't that sad?  Only you and me forever alone living in my own demiliterized zone.
   The star known as Memoire shines and sparkles above.  High mountains and deep seas; I soar, bourne on the wings of Love.
   I love my Nowhere Land.
   Alive, living a life that is not living; forever suffering from my knowledge: Civilization will ever demolish, Man never forgiving.
   Peering from out of my Nowhere Land I see and fear.  For every race, every man life is never dear.  A cold-hot fever is war; a cancer to the core.
   In the paradise of my Nowhere Land  I lay on the sand.  Thoughts of a better yesterday travel through my mind. . . back in a place out of time.
   Life ever dear and sweet; I will remain on my island retreat.  Life has nothing to offer.  Hatred, war and fear: found in Man's coffer.
   Living here as I always do; looking out at the world zoo.  I am sad to be alive; the only man left with reason and rhyme.

  I just love to write.  Like my poems some of my short stories go as far back as 1985.  Most of them are sad and dark works.  I , for some unknown reason, am drawn to view, study, take notice of, the dark side of life.  That is not to say that I am a dark person.  On the contrary, I believe myself to be quite affable.  A little quiet and introspective but definately not abnormally so.
In Dreams 

    
In Dreams is the first story I have for the website.  I first wrote it in 1985 after seeing a news story about a young girl that was abused and violated by her own father.  The police arrested both parents;  the mother had been  aware of the ongoing situation but chose to ignore it.

   I truly believe that there is no greater evil in this world than for parents to destroy, corrupt and defile the holy trust placed upon them when they become parents.  Parents are the last refuge for children.  Once that refuge is gone what else is there?

   I have modified the story a bit (mostly descriptive sequences) but it is essentially the same story as when first written.  The most significant change is the ending.  I hope that the ending infuriates, confuses and begs the question: "What happens next?".  If it does,  then  I've accomplished my goal.  Just remember that LIFE is not always fair.  Lastly, I do not recommend young children read this story.
Through the Fields of Yesterday

   This began as a poem.  The poem was written months before the story.  I happened to show it to a friend and her comments and the visions which she said the poem inspired in her gave way to this story.  This is another example of something written while in high school.  It is definitely juvenilia but I do not make any excuses.  I like the story and the memories it brings me.  I have not changed a thing.  It is presented here in it's original format.
Storm

   I knew a girl who suffered from vicious migraines.  She had to be hospitalized on various occasions and tried various new and experimental drugs.  Her emotional state changed drastically when under the immense pain that the migraines caused her.  My mind started wondering what the extreme conclusion would be if someone suffered with this affliction and had no treatment.  The result is this story.  I also confess that the story has a heavy Harlan Ellison influence. 
Storm is one of my favorite stories.

Certain Things Are Likely

  This is absolutely true.  I love this story.  It was the easiest story that I have ever written and the most fun.  I had just finished reading
The Mist by Stephen King (and prior to that I was reading some Harlan Ellison book... probably Death Bird Stories or Angry Candy... it really doesn't matter; anything by Harlan Ellison should be required reading) and wondered what happened to cause the events detailed in The Mist.  The story basically wrote itself.  Certain Things Are Likely is, thus far,  my favorite sory.
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