“Never cage up a
beast”
The lion-hearted are
chained,
The meek lock them up by their numbers,
The beast roars in anger,
Pacing back and forth growling feverishly,
The meek poke fun,
While the lion-hearted bides its time.
The beast is let out,
Lion teeth and full throttle,
Anguish is unleashed upon the meek,
Gnawing and tearing at the eyes of the collective.
Every part of the
collective,
Broken into seven parts,
Ripped open in vengeful actions,
For the repressed nature of the beast,
Is thus released.
Partial consequence unknown,
The meek replenish in numbers,
And repress once more,
The beast is caged but,
The collective never forgets,
Nor does the beasts’ ambitious-
Passions for freedom.
Let it be known,
That all that repress,
Will fall victim to the wild fury,
Of the animal instinct,
The fall of the lesser half,
Shall perish in the flames,
Of its own too far extended,
Empire of paradoxical utopia.
Ripping open the oppression,
From whinst it came,
To claw out the eyes,
Of the collective populous.
Never-ever cage the wild
beast.
By R.N.B
Chapter 1
Samantha worked the corner of Sixth and Shallow
Circle Parkway every night to make ends meet. She was good at what she did...the
best. She didn’t need a pimp; she was an independent woman, an American woman,
living the American dream.
About four-thirty every morning, business would get
slow so she made her way to the same old, beat up tavern each night, Charlie’s.
There was not the best of crowds at that time of night at Charlie’s. As a
matter of fact, at that time of night the place was usually empty.
Whatever did the trick was what Samantha aimed for.
In her line of work she needed a certain amount of numbness, something to dull
her emotions. On that night she made her way to Charlie’s as always, leaving behind
the corner of Sixth and Shallow Circle Parkway.
Charlie was always there. He was no saint himself,
but he would always listen to her stories. Then again, Samantha was no pity
case.
Samantha shivered as she looked up, seeing an
overcast of greenish clouds. Her spine tingled as she walked down the street.
Turning the corner, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up even
more than usual. She felt like she was not alone. Charlie was there, but it was
something else that disturbed her. A presence of some kind made her
uncomfortable.
After five drinks into drowning her forgotten goals,
misplaced dreams, and twisted sense of independence and American freedom, she
glanced over her left shoulder and saw a figure in the bar. It wasn’t Charlie.
He was washing dishes behind the counter, as this was his normal routine. This
new figure was not a normal customer. He had a strange eerie eminence about
himself. Samantha squinted into her glass and turned her eyes slyly to see the
details of this dark figure. He seemed to wear the night’s gloom and felt
comfortable in the shadows. He wore a black sweat suit with his hood cloaking
his face while he sat in the corner at a table. The hood cast a shadow over all
but his chin.
Samantha’s heartbeat increased as she stared. The
dark figure slowly placed both of his arms on the table. Inching along on his
fingers, he crossed his arms. His right elbow pointed toward the door as if he
was inviting Samantha to run, to make an escape. She had to fight her instinct
to run, to hide. She didn’t know why she was so distressed by this person, but
she trusted her own intuition. She made up her whiskey-soaked mind to leave and
in a hurry. She glanced at Charlie to judge his reaction.
Charlie had his back to Samantha and he wasn’t
planning to turn around. Charlie was no fighter. He broke his nose a few years
back trying to break up a fight. So he stayed out of trouble and stayed to
himself when he thought there was trouble. Back then, there were more customers
at Charlie’s, but the combination of that fight and the recent depression of
the city’s economy led to a decrease in profitability for his small business.
Samantha laid down her glass and licked her lips.
She could feel his eyes burn into the side of her face and feel her heart speed
up. His black-covered body and burning stare gave him the most evil presence
Samantha had ever seen. Samantha’s heart raced even more rapidly.
Her palms were sweating as she leaned over and
whispered, “Charlie, who is that?”
Charlie did not respond. He had to have heard her
but gave no sign.
“I have to get out of here,” Samantha thought.
Charlie kept washing dishes; he dare not turn
around. He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to end up in some dumpster like
that poor nun who was stabbed thirty-seven times just a few blocks from there.
He wasn’t happy, he could only live scared. He did all he knew and all he could
to make a living serving a few customers in a run down place. His instincts
told him not to answer her and not to turn around. He did what he always
did...ignore the situation and not play the hero.
“That’s how I got my nose broken in the first
place,” Charlie thought. “Just ignore her, it’s her problem not mine. Just be
quiet, Charlie,” he thought to himself.
Samantha whispered softly, “Charlie--Charlie--fine
don’t answer, be the gutless coward you’ve always been. I’m leaving. I’m
leaving right now.”
With little hesitation and not too abrupt angst, she
calmly pushed her barstool away from the bar. Putting one leg off of the stool
and then the next, she stood up. Her long legs walked slowly and steadily
toward the door as if she feared nothing. With a monotone voice, tinged with
hidden frustration, she uttered, “I’ll see you tomorrow Charlie.”
Her heels clicked against the discolored-grimy floor
of the bar. She pushed the door open as her eyes caught sight of the dreary
night. Green clouds in the sky flung down a slight drizzle. Gutters filled with
water and Samantha shed a single terrified tear. Samantha took a deep breath,
walked out of the bar, and across the street. Her shoes slapped down on the wet
road clicking as she walked. Her heart speedily throbbed; the hairs on her neck
stood straight up. Her breath came in spurts, trying to fill her clamped lungs.
She was absolutely terrified.
“Who was that character in Charlie’s?” she thought.
Her apartment was across the street from Charlie’s.
It was adjacent to the corner of where she worked. The light outside her
apartment illuminated like a beacon of hope. Streetlights spread light across
the street and lit the way to her home. She took out her keys as she walked
hurriedly toward her apartment door. She felt the pounding on the ground before
she heard a noise behind her. Someone was running, running fast. She dared to
peek over her shoulder. It was the man from the bar.
“Hurry, Samantha! Hurry, Samantha!” she thought.
She was panicked and her heart was in her throat.
She stumbled to the door in an alcoholic dizziness. The key went into the hole
and unlocked the apartment door. The figure collided into her running full
speed. Her face slammed against the apartment door. Pain surged as her face
rammed into the door. Her diaphragm exuded all of her breath. She felt the
worst pain she had ever felt on the first thrust of his knife. It was an
excruciating feeling at first, but it slowly felt like only a pinprick on her
skin. She tasted metal in her mouth as it filled with blood. Samantha’s body
fell onto the ground with barely an inkling of her own imminent demise;
Samantha’s eye lids remained open as she stared straight into the rain of the
darkest night of her life. Her eyes dimmed as the rain washed the pain from her
lifeless body.
The mad man wiped the blood off of the knife onto
her dress. He made her dark red dress a little bit darker. It started to pour
down rain as the murderer caught a glimpse of Charlie standing with the door
open from his bar. He had seen it all. From across the street, he looked in
horror. Frozen in absolute terror from the events that had just taken place,
Charlie stood silent.
“Don’t say anything,” Charlie thought.
The images would be burned deep in the unconscious
of Charlie’s mind, haunting him for the rest of his life.
The dark figure put his knife up and walked slowly
away, leaving Samantha’s lifeless body on the ground. Charlie stared with awful
attention. The figure glided and sneaked along slowly as the shadow of the dark
figure disappeared from the corner of Sixth and Shallow Circle Parkway and into
the shadows.