The EX police officer
Of the law
Wrote furiously
Like a crazy man
At his trial.
Yellow pads
Were filled
Page after page,
Minute after minute
Second after second
Witness after witness
Word after crazy word.
Now
On his day of reckoning
He wrote
Nothing.
Not a word.
He did speak some words
Odd words
Vague words
About
“. . . some other information in the future
” that would be of interest .”
And, it might
It might.
But
Regardless
It will be
Way too little
And
Way too late.
~ DE BA UEL
So, there is no question that the world needs more elephants. The more the merrier, say I.
On the loose and living the good life.
Tanking up on fresh food.
Swilling up at the water holes.
Getting a mud bath on the muddy shores,.
Getting a dust bath in the dust fields.
And making a hellova lot more baby elephants.
And those elephants still alive (and – alas- they are getting easier to count) should be left alone by the vicious human beasts who slaughter them for fun and ivory.
An Elephant stampede would come in right handy.
Now, I’m partial to Elephants, having written a book of short stories where an elephant holds his own in conversations with God.
Yes, God gets a good talking to, though the Almighty does manage to give as good as He gets.
So, I’m all for WORLD Elephant Day.
In fact, I’d give them a whole Week.
Nay, a whole Month.
Alright, a whole Year!!
They’re BIG animals. They can handle it.
(Image) https://www.wildlifealliance.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/World-Elephant-day-2018.jpg
As fodder for a writer, I have had the good luck to have two murderers as neighbours. Well . . . almost. One committed his murder a month before he was to move in, the other committed his murder years after he moved out. But, still – it’s the spirit of the intent.
Murderer Two lived in the apartment directly across the hall from me many a long year ago, and committed his murder last year. With a knife. The other murderer used a knife, also. Small world.
While living across the hall from me, Murderer Two was often a cause of disruption. He was prone to parties with unruly and uncontrollable guests. I arrived home one afternoon to an event of screaming proportions occurring across the hall. I was within minutes of phoning the police when someone else did so. Police cars and vans appeared on the street and in the driveway. Ten to a dozen officers entered the raucous apartment. People in various states of inebriation and addiction were taken away. Murderer Two was found hiding in his closet. He did not return.
Last year Murderer Two was charged with the murder of his room mate. No party, though they were both drunk. He claimed self-defence, though the victim was stabbed twelve times. It was established stab number nine was the death blow. He was found guilty of second-degree murder.
Murderer One was a month away from moving into the apartment across the hall from me. He was going to replace one of the occupants moving out. One evening however, he visited the apartment past mid-night. He arrived in a taxi. He had a dispute with the taxi driver (over what, was never clear, but probably lack of payment). From the back seat he slit the driver’s throat and fled the scene. A couple of hours later other drivers of the taxi company were searching for him. His cab was spotted at two in the morning. The engine was still running.
I awoke at six to the sound of a huge engine on the city street. I looked out my front window and saw a police mobile investigation vehicle, engine running. Police cars and vans and an ambulance and a fire department vehicle were all present. Out my back window – in the driveway, was a taxi, police officers, and a body under a tarpaulin. The man had been killed four or five metres from me. I had heard nothing. The investigation took hours at the scene. The body remained. Mid-afternoon it was removed. The taxi was towed away. The fire truck was used to hose away the blood.
I had seen the murderer a few times before, visiting his friends next door. He was arrested in a restaurant kitchen where he worked as a cook. He reportedly had been drunk, had problems with a girl friend. But the exact reasons he was there that night, or why he murdered, were not revealed. He also was found guilty and sent to penitentiary.
II no longer live in that apartment house – but not by choice. It caught fire and was eventually torn down.
(Image)https://farm6.static.flickr.com/5217/29885646575_62806c67c9_b.jpg
After a nine hour trip yesterday, I had aimed for, planned for, hoped for, to wake up as I pleased this morning. However, the crows had different ideas, and not too long after sunrise I was drawn unceremoniously into the new day. To my surprise – considering all the noise – there were only half a dozen roosting and hopping on The Crow Tree. Perhaps their promised gold was the golden rays of the sun.
At any rate, I re-post this Crow blog from a couple of years ago. I bet many of the crows are the same crows. Who has murdered sleep, indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crows are in The Crow Tree. They have not been there for months. Sitting at the top above the red and orange foliage. #crows #birds
There are 50 and more crows in The Crow Tree. Making a mighty ruckus as if in strenuous debate. They are greatly agitated. #crows #birds
Crows leave The Crow Tree in droves, circle and return. They are clustered on the top branches with constant noise. More arrive. #crows
Stark contrast on The Crow Tree. A ridge of black crows on top of the red and orange leaves against the blue sky. They keep circling. #crows
It is a picket fence of crows on The Crow Tree. When they perch they cast large shadows. They seem less agitated. #crows #birds
The crow discourse on The Crow Tree seems to be over. Most have moved on and the few remaining are silent. I wonder what they decided. #crow
At The Crow Tree, the rest is silence. #crows
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour ago my walk took me to a small park/garden across from a church. There are three benches, and I sit there often. Part way through my contemplations, a crow settled into the birdbath. A large crow and a birdbath that would not comfortably accommodate two crows. There had been a big rainstorm the day before and the birdbath was full.
At first I thought the crow was just drinking from the water. But, within a couple of minutes, he was splashing and cavorting and dousing himself in water from his active dance. Head to tip of tail and all feathers in between. A right good soaking.
Then, with a great shake and some flying sprays of water, he flew away.
(image) 1.bp.blogspot.com/-cRCIbfTBLsE/URGows8HcsI/AAAAAAAACPE/oSjE2-RI8r8/s1600/crows.jpg
Last night a bald eagle flew over the house, chased by a half dozen crows. I had heard the ruckus raised by the crows, but thought they were warning about a cat. How mistaken i was.
The eagle made a retreat in one direction, but shortly after made a more hasty retreat in the other. The crows had murder on their mind, even if they knew they could not accomplish the deed. But the eagle was not going to stay around to find out.
This put me in mind of an incident I have previously posted, which I again share.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This past weekend I was within three minutes of returning to where I am staying. This route takes me through an historic graveyard in the centre of the city. The graveyard encompasses two city blocks and is surrounded by a metal fence. One walks through a gate, along a cement path, and through another gate. The second gate is three minutes from my residence.
I was part way through the graveyard when I saw a group of people crowded together near the path. I assumed it was a group of youth, who often use the graveyard as a ‘park’. I assumed they were just hanging out, but I did keep an eye on them. When I was close enough I realized it was a film crew of seven or eight. They were clustered around a boom camera, one which can rise to a moderate height. As they were directly across from an historic cairn, I thought they might be filming some sort of documentary, and photographing the cairn. I passed them by, making a point not to gawk.
Just past the other gate I was about to cross the street. As I looked both ways for cars I saw, about five car lengths away, a bald eagle standing on the pavement. If one can not ‘literally believe their eyes’, this was the time for me. However, realizing it was there, I figuratively rubbed my eyes. It was standing stock still. I immediately thought it was a) stuffed and b) it was some sort of prop for that movie crew. Such is the imagination.
Within seconds the tableaux changed. The bald eagle started (or returned to) hopping around. And, now taking in more of what was before my eyes, I saw a crow overhead. The crow was diving at the eagle. Then, as quickly, I saw other crows in the sky, a half dozen or so. They were all circling and taking turns aiming at the eagle. The eagle started hopping around even more.
I do not know what had happened to make this encounter occur. Now I wondered if the eagle was injured. It was moving slowly and kept its wings folded. The crows were not (I assume – wisely) making contact with the big bird. They were, however, constant and raucous. The term “dive bombing” came to mind. The eagle became more agitated.
Without any effort (so it seemed) the eagle lifted into the air. This caused an increase in the vocal alarms of the crows. The eagle started a steady ascent toward the south, looking as magnificent as eagles are supposed to do. All the crows now circled continually, keeping their distance and cawing incessantly. The eagle was soon high above the tops of the trees. It made a slow alteration of course and headed toward the river, which is five blocks away from the graveyard. It kept gaining altitude and the crows kept pursuit. All the birds became too distant to observe.
As they all departed I heard a shout behind me. I turned in time to see the camera extended high, pointing toward the first gate I had entered. Within seconds a young man was running along the cement path through the graveyard. The camera lowered and tracked him until a voice shouted “Cut!” He stopped right in front of the Memorial cairn.
Recently, for an out-of-town guest, I was asked to recount these tales from some years ago. So why not share the wealth.
As fodder for a writer, I have had the good luck to have two murderers as neighbours. Well . . . almost. One committed his murder a month before he was to move in, the other committed his murder years after he moved out. But, still – it’s the spirit of the intent.
Murderer Two lived in the apartment directly across the hall from me many a long year ago, and committed his murder last year. With a knife. The other murderer used a knife, also. Small world.
While living across the hall from me, Murderer Two was often a cause of disruption. He was prone to parties with unruly and uncontrollable guests. I arrived home one afternoon to an event of screaming proportions occurring across the hall. I was within minutes of phoning the police when someone else did so. Police cars and vans appeared on the street and in the driveway. Ten to a dozen officers entered the raucous apartment. People in various states of inebriation and addiction were taken away. Murderer Two was found hiding in his closet. He did not return.
Last year Murderer Two was charged with the murder of his room mate. No party, though they were both drunk. He claimed self-defence, though the victim was stabbed twelve times. It was established stab number nine was the death blow. He was found guilty of second-degree murder.
Murderer One was a month away from moving into the apartment across the hall from me. He was going to replace one of the occupants moving out. One evening however, he visited the apartment past mid-night. He arrived in a taxi. He had a dispute with the taxi driver (over what, was never clear, but probably lack of payment). From the back seat he slit the driver’s throat and fled the scene. A couple of hours later other drivers of the taxi company were searching for him. His cab was spotted at two in the morning. The engine was still running.
I awoke at six to the sound of a huge engine on the city street. I looked out my front window and saw a police mobile investigation vehicle, engine running. Police cars and vans and an ambulance and a fire department vehicle were all present. Out my back window – in the driveway, was a taxi, police officers, and a body under a tarpaulin. The man had been killed four or five metres from me. I had heard nothing. The investigation took hours at the scene. The body remained. Mid-afternoon it was removed. The taxi was towed away. The fire truck was used to hose away the blood.
I had seen the murderer a few times before, visiting his friends next door. He was arrested in a restaurant kitchen where he worked as a cook. He reportedly had been drunk, had problems with a girl friend. But the exact reasons he was there that night, or why he murdered, were not revealed. He also was found guilty and sent to penitentiary.
II no longer live in that apartment house – but not by choice. It caught fire and was eventually torn down.
DE
(image) https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/b2/63/98/b26398bb7be81c0e3a6149a31ac129ae.jpg
I was going through my Dropbox files last week and came across a great surprise. It was a file that, initially, I thought I must have mistitled. But, when I opened it …
… there was a movie script I had adapted from one of my novels. Not the screenplay I knew I had made from another novel, but a whole different one. I am equally surprised by the fact that I did it, and the fact that I have forgotten it. It would have been at least six months of work. WTF
It is called Darkroom, and is about my psychopathic serial killer, Norman. The other is a horror screenplay is based on a portion of one one of my Satan novels. Perhaps I think of horror as a more visual medium.
At any rate, I think I’ll share a portion or two – or a few – of Darkroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FADE IN:
EXT. CITY STREET – NIGHT
EXT. RUNDOWN THREE STORY MANSION – NIGHT
EXT. LARGE LIT SIGN FACING SIDEWALK – NIGHT
SIGN
Rooms – Week/Month
EXT.ENTRANCE TO ROOMING HOUSE – NIGHT
A Dozen Burly Men crowd through the front door.
INT. STAIRWELL – NIGHT
The Men laugh and roughhouse as they go up the stairs.
INT. STAIRWELL LANDING – NIGHT
The men jostle each other and laugh. A couple wrestle and one
pretends to push another over the railing.
INT. HEAD OF STAIRS – NIGHT
A LAUGHING MAN puts a key in the first door they come to. As it
opens he puts a finger to his lips.
LAUGHING MAN
Shh! It’s my turn to do it.
INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT
The Laughing Man creeps along the hall and stops at the door on
the end. He looks back at the Other Men and giggles. He pounds
and kicks on the door.
LAUGHING MAN
We’re back for another week, Normie.
Did you miss us?
INT. HEAD OF STAIRS – NIGHT
The men crowd into a large room with many beds. The Laughing Man
closes the door behind them.
INT. LARGE ROOM – NIGHT
The Men waste no time getting ready for bed. The Laughing Man beckons
three others to him. Together they pound on the wall.
LAUGHING MAN
Sweet dreams, Adolf.
The Laughing Man stands at attention and gives the Nazi salute to the wall.
The Other Men hoot and holler.
DE
(image) http://67.media.tumblr.com/29eb47a1ae85b7037aa3fbdb4067b595/tumblr_nee4d4Nleu1r0d65jo1_500.jpg
