Post by spacel0rd on Dec 7, 2012 10:55:36 GMT -5
By Jamie Laszlo (Spacel0rd)
(Read at your own risk. The Turning is brutal)
THE GIFT
The card inside read:
Mommy, I’m sorry you can’t go out with your friends
I’m sorry my hard breathing makes the nights never end
I’m sorry you can’t trust a babysitter with me
I’m sorry I was told I have Muscular Dystrophy
I came to you on a very special Christmas night
So, again, this Christmas, I will make everything alright…
Chris was born seven years ago this December 25th
His mother, Beth, couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift
He was beautiful in her eyes and perfect in every way
Beth was no longer alone, for Christopher was here to stay
Five years later the news came like a pile of cement
It hit hard and was here forever to torment
Chris seemed ill and had trouble walking straight
Muscular Dystrophy entered his life like a heavy weight
Twelve months of long nights passed as Beth grew in age
Now, her faced showed more years than it should at this stage
Her friends become distant, although they were around at first
But they stopped coming around as the situation became worse
With no husband, Beth had more jobs than one should have to do
The day-nurse became family; sadly, the endless nights did too
She worked those three steady jobs to pay all the bills
But it wasn’t enough; there were too many doctors and pills
All this didn’t go unnoticed in Chris’ green eyes
Life was hard and he could see through his mother’s smiling lies:
“Everything will be fine, Chris. I love you more every day
And I promise this will be over soon. It will all go away”
Chris knew a miracle had to happen, and Christmas was here soon
What a perfect day to put an end to this doom
It was the day of his birth and the day Santa came
But this Christmas something would be leaving – all of the pain
The tree was soon up; a fake one Beth’s old boyfriend stole
A train that didn’t run circled the tree’s metal pole
A box sat by the tree with paper that barley stayed on
With a tag reading “For: Mommy - From: Chris” written in crayon
The box was large and Beth was so curious
To what her child could have gotten her for this year’s Christmas
A card was given to her just a week before the holiday
Chris smiled till Beth read it through all the way
It read:
“When searching for answers and the meaning to everything
Don’t be surprised to what Christmas day can bring
For, when troubles have you down and your heart needs a lift
Don’t forget to look towards your special Christmas gift”
Beth thought of how much of an angel her son was
She would always look to him for love, kisses and hugs
He was so smart and so creative for his tender age of seven
And there was truly a place set aside for him in Heaven
By that tree that large gift sat for the next week
Beth didn’t give into the temptation to peek
Christmas morning would be special for her this year
Chris had something for her that would surely bring a tear
The day came soon enough and Christmas morning was here
Santa had come with his eight tiny reindeer
A few gifts sat by the tree as Beth drank her hot tea
Waiting for Chris to wake up: what a wonderful morning it will be
It became lighter outside and the sun rose up
There was no sign of Chris as Beth sat by an empty teacup
She went upstairs to her son’s bedroom door
Opened it and saw no one, with all the blankets on the floor
As her eyes widened, her heart fell into her stomach
“Oh my God, where could he be, for Christ’s sake?”
She ran through the house yelling out his name
Wondering what could cause this and whom she could blame
The house seemed colder as she found out she was alone
She ran to the kitchen and picked up the phone
As her fingers punched the numbers “Nine-One-One”
She recalled the Christmas poem written by her son
“For, when troubles have you down and your heart needs a lift
Don’t forget to look towards your special Christmas gift”
The words echoed in her mind like her head was a cave
And she ran towards the Christmas tree and the present Chris made
Her eyes fixated on the tag and the blue colored bow
She pretended not to think, she pretended not to know
On the floor around the box, something flowed and was red
She threw the bottomless box up to reveal her son, dead.
Blood ran from his wrists and as his eyes stared at Beth
His gift was his absence; his gift was his death
…Now you can live your life free from all the pain
Merry Christmas, mommy, my loss is now your gain
=================
THE TURNING
(Warning: A Harsh & Brutal Christmas Horror Story)
By Jamie Laszlo
The voices wouldn’t stop for Matt, along with all the pain
His head had grown too heavy with the images in his brain
When he closed his eyes he saw much more than the color black
He relived it all over: That night of the attack…
…Seven years ago…
The moon was full that night; he and his wife, Pam, stopped for gas
It was Christmas Eve; they were going home from midnight mass
He tried to hurry up while pumping, for the night’s air was cold and bitter
Not to mention it was late and at home was the babysitter
They had a one-year-old son who would be having his first Christmas
The warm thought of this was his weapon against the air’s crispness
He went in to pay the clerk and came back out of the store
It’s then he heard the voice of the man: “Get out of the car, you fucking whore!”
He saw the man by his car; he was pulling out a fighting Pam
“Settle down, bitch! Look at the tits on you! I’ll be goddamn!”
Matt began to run to his wife, “Let go of her, you fucking jerk!”
When he was tackled to the ground by the gas station clerk
The clerk held him from behind and in order to make a statement
He grabbed the back of his hair and crushed his face into the pavement
Matt feared, with a bloody nose, for his loving wife’s life
She was thrown to the hood of the car; her clothes ripped open with a knife
And with the knife under her throat she was raped under that moon
While her husband yelled to concrete, “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll be over soon!”
The man on top of him spoke, “Mister, We can go all night.
And if your wife starts to wear out, I bet your asshole’s pretty tight!”
Round one was over; the other now mounted her, holding the same knife
Matt, being held by the larger man now, could smell the sex and sweat from his wife
After Pam took it a second time, the clerk put the knife in her gut
He sliced her from stomach to chin: “Take that you fucking slut!”
Matt cried, “Oh my God! You killed her! Jesus! My beloved!”
He tried to break free from the beast, but to the ground he was shoved
They both started kicking him hard in the chest as his world turned into a haze
The last thing he heard that night was: “Live for that for the rest of your days!”
…So now, seven years later he still can’t shake the feeling
Of that night he was helpless; there’s been no sign of him healing
He had spent every night praying to his sacred God above
Wondering if it’s a gift or a curse: this thing that we call love
It wasn’t enough that both of those monstrous men were now jailed
It was about how he should have saved her, but, instead desperately failed
Every holiday season was not spent with gifts, love or cheer
His son, now eight, had to learn Christmas from school and his peers
Matt spent that last Christmas Eve, eyes shut, in a disturbing silence
While that horrid night played like a film on the insides of his eyelids
That helplessness entered his body, “…Maybe I gave a bad fight”
While the voices of the men came back “…I bet your asshole’s pretty tight”
His son sat in the hallway by his father’s bedroom door
He did not hear his father’s ghosts: “…Get out of the car, you fucking whore”
But soon he would hear his dad praying to his Lord up in Heaven
Asking for forgiveness on that night’s anniversary number seven
And he starts:
“Dear God above
I used to fly
But now I’m down in Flames
My Son is lost
For I have no love
I drown in my gelled pains
My wife is gone
I know that’s true
But my heart still needs her love
So as I drown
I search the sky for
An olive branch-beaked dove
There is dry land
But I need your help
I cannot find it alone
So help me, God
Give me direction
So love can enter my home”
Now Matt tried to fall asleep, staying on his side of the bed
He stared at the pillow that once rested his wife’s head
Then his eyes shut and the film began, as sleep began to overpower
He entered dreams filled with monsters calling him coward
But then they were swept and a curtain opened as if a play was about to begin
A surrounding mist entered his body as he breathed it in
Although in bed his eyes were shut, in his dreams they were open wide
An answer he’s been looking for now seemed to be by his side
Then the voices began; but not the same that Matt had heard before
These were the sounds of angels making him feel safe, solid and secure
He followed their cries, taking small steps, moving in their direction
For the first time in years his heart beat freely, drained from all its tension
He floated towards a bright blue light filled all truth drained from lies
It became brighter as he moved closer, and louder became the cries
Then the voices stopped and Matt stood still; the light began to dim
A cloaked figure rose from the mist; his finger pointed towards him
His voice was deep as his words cocooned around Matt’s lost soul
They glued his broken heart together to now make it whole
“You want answers? You want Love? My friend, I am here for you
After looking up to Heaven, tell me, what did your god ever do?
He’s been laughing up there, enjoying the show; he doesn’t care about your son
While you sit alone in that house closed off from everyone
I would never laugh and I have the power to cure your dying heart
Turn your back on your god, as he’s done to you so we can make a new start
You want the pain to leave your soul without losing love for your wife?
Then give your god back his little “gift”; give him back your life!
Take one more step through the barrier that separates you and I
The air running through your body will cleanse you before you die
So make a decision; get a grip; do you want to wake up from here
Back to a world that has beaten you down by using your own fear?”
Matt stood still looking down; wondering what’s beyond
With nothing left behind him, to not go through seemed wrong
He stepped forward and hit the barrier; it felt solid, hard and firm
He took a step back, to get momentum; finally it was his turn
He lunged forward, broke that wall, then felt the air through his soul
He became filled with the love and joy that his world so rudely stole
Then before the end; before his death; he heard Satan’s voice again
Matt shivered as he realized that he had just committed the worst sin
“You stupid fool! You listened to me and took your own life!
Could you not see that I am the same evil that raped and killed your wife?!”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Matt was found in his yard, covered in his bedroom window glass
Blood from his body formed a pool in the frozen winter-dead grass
People around called it suicide; him jumping those three stories
They said it was his only way out from all his heartaches and his worries
Beyond, in Hell, his soul burned as his body decayed in dirt
Leaving behind for an eight-year-old boy…
…the same Hell on Earth
(Read at your own risk. The Turning is brutal)
THE GIFT
The card inside read:
Mommy, I’m sorry you can’t go out with your friends
I’m sorry my hard breathing makes the nights never end
I’m sorry you can’t trust a babysitter with me
I’m sorry I was told I have Muscular Dystrophy
I came to you on a very special Christmas night
So, again, this Christmas, I will make everything alright…
Chris was born seven years ago this December 25th
His mother, Beth, couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift
He was beautiful in her eyes and perfect in every way
Beth was no longer alone, for Christopher was here to stay
Five years later the news came like a pile of cement
It hit hard and was here forever to torment
Chris seemed ill and had trouble walking straight
Muscular Dystrophy entered his life like a heavy weight
Twelve months of long nights passed as Beth grew in age
Now, her faced showed more years than it should at this stage
Her friends become distant, although they were around at first
But they stopped coming around as the situation became worse
With no husband, Beth had more jobs than one should have to do
The day-nurse became family; sadly, the endless nights did too
She worked those three steady jobs to pay all the bills
But it wasn’t enough; there were too many doctors and pills
All this didn’t go unnoticed in Chris’ green eyes
Life was hard and he could see through his mother’s smiling lies:
“Everything will be fine, Chris. I love you more every day
And I promise this will be over soon. It will all go away”
Chris knew a miracle had to happen, and Christmas was here soon
What a perfect day to put an end to this doom
It was the day of his birth and the day Santa came
But this Christmas something would be leaving – all of the pain
The tree was soon up; a fake one Beth’s old boyfriend stole
A train that didn’t run circled the tree’s metal pole
A box sat by the tree with paper that barley stayed on
With a tag reading “For: Mommy - From: Chris” written in crayon
The box was large and Beth was so curious
To what her child could have gotten her for this year’s Christmas
A card was given to her just a week before the holiday
Chris smiled till Beth read it through all the way
It read:
“When searching for answers and the meaning to everything
Don’t be surprised to what Christmas day can bring
For, when troubles have you down and your heart needs a lift
Don’t forget to look towards your special Christmas gift”
Beth thought of how much of an angel her son was
She would always look to him for love, kisses and hugs
He was so smart and so creative for his tender age of seven
And there was truly a place set aside for him in Heaven
By that tree that large gift sat for the next week
Beth didn’t give into the temptation to peek
Christmas morning would be special for her this year
Chris had something for her that would surely bring a tear
The day came soon enough and Christmas morning was here
Santa had come with his eight tiny reindeer
A few gifts sat by the tree as Beth drank her hot tea
Waiting for Chris to wake up: what a wonderful morning it will be
It became lighter outside and the sun rose up
There was no sign of Chris as Beth sat by an empty teacup
She went upstairs to her son’s bedroom door
Opened it and saw no one, with all the blankets on the floor
As her eyes widened, her heart fell into her stomach
“Oh my God, where could he be, for Christ’s sake?”
She ran through the house yelling out his name
Wondering what could cause this and whom she could blame
The house seemed colder as she found out she was alone
She ran to the kitchen and picked up the phone
As her fingers punched the numbers “Nine-One-One”
She recalled the Christmas poem written by her son
“For, when troubles have you down and your heart needs a lift
Don’t forget to look towards your special Christmas gift”
The words echoed in her mind like her head was a cave
And she ran towards the Christmas tree and the present Chris made
Her eyes fixated on the tag and the blue colored bow
She pretended not to think, she pretended not to know
On the floor around the box, something flowed and was red
She threw the bottomless box up to reveal her son, dead.
Blood ran from his wrists and as his eyes stared at Beth
His gift was his absence; his gift was his death
…Now you can live your life free from all the pain
Merry Christmas, mommy, my loss is now your gain
=================
THE TURNING
(Warning: A Harsh & Brutal Christmas Horror Story)
By Jamie Laszlo
The voices wouldn’t stop for Matt, along with all the pain
His head had grown too heavy with the images in his brain
When he closed his eyes he saw much more than the color black
He relived it all over: That night of the attack…
…Seven years ago…
The moon was full that night; he and his wife, Pam, stopped for gas
It was Christmas Eve; they were going home from midnight mass
He tried to hurry up while pumping, for the night’s air was cold and bitter
Not to mention it was late and at home was the babysitter
They had a one-year-old son who would be having his first Christmas
The warm thought of this was his weapon against the air’s crispness
He went in to pay the clerk and came back out of the store
It’s then he heard the voice of the man: “Get out of the car, you fucking whore!”
He saw the man by his car; he was pulling out a fighting Pam
“Settle down, bitch! Look at the tits on you! I’ll be goddamn!”
Matt began to run to his wife, “Let go of her, you fucking jerk!”
When he was tackled to the ground by the gas station clerk
The clerk held him from behind and in order to make a statement
He grabbed the back of his hair and crushed his face into the pavement
Matt feared, with a bloody nose, for his loving wife’s life
She was thrown to the hood of the car; her clothes ripped open with a knife
And with the knife under her throat she was raped under that moon
While her husband yelled to concrete, “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll be over soon!”
The man on top of him spoke, “Mister, We can go all night.
And if your wife starts to wear out, I bet your asshole’s pretty tight!”
Round one was over; the other now mounted her, holding the same knife
Matt, being held by the larger man now, could smell the sex and sweat from his wife
After Pam took it a second time, the clerk put the knife in her gut
He sliced her from stomach to chin: “Take that you fucking slut!”
Matt cried, “Oh my God! You killed her! Jesus! My beloved!”
He tried to break free from the beast, but to the ground he was shoved
They both started kicking him hard in the chest as his world turned into a haze
The last thing he heard that night was: “Live for that for the rest of your days!”
…So now, seven years later he still can’t shake the feeling
Of that night he was helpless; there’s been no sign of him healing
He had spent every night praying to his sacred God above
Wondering if it’s a gift or a curse: this thing that we call love
It wasn’t enough that both of those monstrous men were now jailed
It was about how he should have saved her, but, instead desperately failed
Every holiday season was not spent with gifts, love or cheer
His son, now eight, had to learn Christmas from school and his peers
Matt spent that last Christmas Eve, eyes shut, in a disturbing silence
While that horrid night played like a film on the insides of his eyelids
That helplessness entered his body, “…Maybe I gave a bad fight”
While the voices of the men came back “…I bet your asshole’s pretty tight”
His son sat in the hallway by his father’s bedroom door
He did not hear his father’s ghosts: “…Get out of the car, you fucking whore”
But soon he would hear his dad praying to his Lord up in Heaven
Asking for forgiveness on that night’s anniversary number seven
And he starts:
“Dear God above
I used to fly
But now I’m down in Flames
My Son is lost
For I have no love
I drown in my gelled pains
My wife is gone
I know that’s true
But my heart still needs her love
So as I drown
I search the sky for
An olive branch-beaked dove
There is dry land
But I need your help
I cannot find it alone
So help me, God
Give me direction
So love can enter my home”
Now Matt tried to fall asleep, staying on his side of the bed
He stared at the pillow that once rested his wife’s head
Then his eyes shut and the film began, as sleep began to overpower
He entered dreams filled with monsters calling him coward
But then they were swept and a curtain opened as if a play was about to begin
A surrounding mist entered his body as he breathed it in
Although in bed his eyes were shut, in his dreams they were open wide
An answer he’s been looking for now seemed to be by his side
Then the voices began; but not the same that Matt had heard before
These were the sounds of angels making him feel safe, solid and secure
He followed their cries, taking small steps, moving in their direction
For the first time in years his heart beat freely, drained from all its tension
He floated towards a bright blue light filled all truth drained from lies
It became brighter as he moved closer, and louder became the cries
Then the voices stopped and Matt stood still; the light began to dim
A cloaked figure rose from the mist; his finger pointed towards him
His voice was deep as his words cocooned around Matt’s lost soul
They glued his broken heart together to now make it whole
“You want answers? You want Love? My friend, I am here for you
After looking up to Heaven, tell me, what did your god ever do?
He’s been laughing up there, enjoying the show; he doesn’t care about your son
While you sit alone in that house closed off from everyone
I would never laugh and I have the power to cure your dying heart
Turn your back on your god, as he’s done to you so we can make a new start
You want the pain to leave your soul without losing love for your wife?
Then give your god back his little “gift”; give him back your life!
Take one more step through the barrier that separates you and I
The air running through your body will cleanse you before you die
So make a decision; get a grip; do you want to wake up from here
Back to a world that has beaten you down by using your own fear?”
Matt stood still looking down; wondering what’s beyond
With nothing left behind him, to not go through seemed wrong
He stepped forward and hit the barrier; it felt solid, hard and firm
He took a step back, to get momentum; finally it was his turn
He lunged forward, broke that wall, then felt the air through his soul
He became filled with the love and joy that his world so rudely stole
Then before the end; before his death; he heard Satan’s voice again
Matt shivered as he realized that he had just committed the worst sin
“You stupid fool! You listened to me and took your own life!
Could you not see that I am the same evil that raped and killed your wife?!”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Matt was found in his yard, covered in his bedroom window glass
Blood from his body formed a pool in the frozen winter-dead grass
People around called it suicide; him jumping those three stories
They said it was his only way out from all his heartaches and his worries
Beyond, in Hell, his soul burned as his body decayed in dirt
Leaving behind for an eight-year-old boy…
…the same Hell on Earth
