Saturday, July 01, 2006

Act 6: Somehow Significant

Alright Guys. Here is the last act to wrap up Part One of the Turbulent Seed short series. I hope you guys enjoyed Part 1. I look forward to hearing from you guys and what you guys think so far. I have already started writing part 2 and I will be posting that soon, so keep an eye out. Enjoy.


ACT 6: Somehow significant

I keep telling myself that things are going to get better. I keep thinking that one day I will wake up and this city will return to its former glory. It’s hard to believe that the humanity in this city no longer exists; and it keeps getting worse. Just the other day I took down a twelve year old kid for stabbing another kid in a convenience store, and holding the store owner at gunpoint, telling him that if he called the police his face would get shot off. Lucky for the store owner and the stabbed kid, there was an eye witness that called in anonymous. The pressure builds. But I can only accept it. I face the truth that only a miracle can save this city. It’s seems to me that God abandoned the people of this city. My faith starts to dwindle as I recall all what has happened in the past few years. I contemplate these things as I watch the light in front of me turn green. I feel the power of the V8 propel the SUV in forward motion.
It’s late and all I want is a good night’s sleep. Ha…A good night’s sleep. I haven’t had one of those in a very long time. I look up ahead and see a crowd of people standing outside of the Galaxy5 night club. Word has it that it’s special VIP party tonight. That would explain the crowd. I reach over to the passenger seat and grabbed the box of cigarettes. It was a half finished carton Willis tossed to me just before I left the station. I open the box and pulled one out. I feel something else. I glance up at the road to stay on track, and refocus my attention on the foreign object in the cigarette box. I fumble for a while then I manage to pull it out. It’s a purple bracelet, very similar to the ones worn by the Bushel Street prostitutes. My brain freezes when I start to think of all the possibilities. Right now I’m too tired to piece it all together, but I know that this is somehow significant.
I see the sign “District Mall” as I pass the shopping outlet two blocks from my condo. A pulse of fate…I see a woman figure running down the side walk, with 3 male figures not too far behind. Another sign of what this city is now reduced to…Serve and protect that’s what I do…even when I’m not on duty. I bring the SUV to a halt and hurry to the female figure’s aid. I see the men grab her and there is a tug of war for her purse. One of the men knocks her to the ground. The woman screams as she hits the pavement. Oh…This scene for some reason stirs a familiar dampened emotion…I remove my pistol from its holster and shout, “Hands up…Police”. I was ignored. My finger pulls the trigger, releasing 2 shots in the air. This got their attention. All three men zone into my direction. I flash my badge, to follow protocol. They throw the woman to the side and flee the scene. I pick up the woman and spaced out. It was the waitress from Vince’s Café House. It was Chelsea. I pull her up in my arms and tell her, “Everything is going to be OK.” I think to myself how wrong I probably am. Everything won’t be OK. If I rounded the corner ten seconds earlier or arrived ten seconds later, it could have been her life. It’s a cold, cold city. I offer to drive her home, and I do. She thanks me deeply and asks me to come inside. Believe me I would. I haven’t had the touch of a decent woman in a long time. I would, but I can’t. I must stay true to my duty. Ten minutes later I arrive at my apartment, and am happily greeted by my 8 month old German Shepard. Peace. I feel it for a second. Moments later, I hear my telephone ring. Three rings go by before I pick it up. It was Lieutenant Desmond. I hear him speak for a minute or two, before I respond, “I’ll be right there”. Good night’s sleep my ass. I don’t believe I’ll ever get another one.
I arrive at the crime scene, The Galaxy5 night club. I passed by here earlier, and all seemed well. I glance at my watch to see that it was 1:20 am. I see Lieutenant Desmond and Willis, standing at the club entrance talking to the club attendees. I come to find out that a man, Jared Cuzzio was murdered. His slit throat reminded me of the two thugs in the alley some nights ago. I haven’t seen any one murdered by a wine glass before. This city keeps surprising me. Then again, this shouldn’t. Lieutenant Desmond waves for my attention. I move to hear what piece of information he has. He tells me that the bar tender reported that the murderer was a lady, about 5'7, 5’8 in height with dark silky hair. He said she was looking for Shakespeare. Lieutenant Desmond reached around and picked up some evidence sealed in a bag. Amongst other things, there was a purple bracelet inside. This now makes sense. The murdered victim had the likes of Shakespeare. The murderer must have gotten confused. This incident is somehow connected to the past incident on Bushel Street. What does she want with Shakespeare? Who is she? I ponder over the thought and I fear what may be the truth. Then it hits me. Everything around me slows down. Any slower and it’ll all be in reverse. My vision blurs. It’s all too crazy to be true. It’s all too crazy to be true. It’s all too crazy. This is when one of my most dreadful enemies appears…Denial.



ACT 1 :::: END

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Act 5: Innocent Blood

I decided to not add audio... too tedious for each act. I'm designing a Turbulent Seed website. This site will have background audio for the entire site, giving it an over all hazed feeling. So keep an eye out for the new site.

Here is act 5...enjoy...


Turbulent Seed: Dark Justice

Act 5

I feel I’m getting close. I sniff the air and smell the blood of my most recent kill. Another lowlife rid from the streets…Another step towards my soul’s rejuvenation. There are too many of them out there, but I swear on the graves of all the innocent victims that died…”I will kill them all”…And deliver to them the type of justice they deserve…Dark Justice. My thoughts continue to zigzag as I watch the cars pass by in the city below. I often ascend to the heights of the city’s sky scrapers to gather my thoughts, and to reflect on the deeds of the night before…A gleam of conscience. But the task that I started must be complete. This thought drives me to move, move, move…kill, kill, kill, for the innocent. Ice. I must destroy all that he is, and could be. My innocence was taken…My mother murdered…My father…My Brother. Who am I now? I am no longer the Destiny Samuels, the name and identity given to me at my birth. All who I was is no more. Somehow they know. They know who I once was. I must move on and finish the task. The two thugs in the alley, the drunk that died on Bushel Street, the one I sent to hell tonight…And now for Shakespeare. With Shakespeare dead, it’ll damage a huge section of Ice’s criminal empire. I focus my attention on the club below. I see the crowds gather in front hoping to get inside. Tonight is Special VIP night at the Galaxy5 night club, and only the ones with deep pockets get to share in the night’s events. I wait till I see a man wearing the classic 1950’s top hat, emerging from a 1950’s style limo. He has it all down to the “T”…And that’s him. Shakespeare.
I use the elevator to descend from the building. The night is too busy for me to go my usual route. I want to make it as natural as possible. I reach the main floor of the building, exit, and set my sights westward, staring directly at the night club ahead. I try to look the part to avoid any suspicion. The bouncers at the door are big guys, but not a threat at all. I make my way through the crowd approaching one of the bouncers. Our eyes meet. He says, “Do you have a pass”. I made an advance copy of the pass that is usually used to get into this sort of thing. I pull my purse forward and removed my copied pass. It was good enough to get me in….and now to find Shakespeare...I smell death before the kill. The house is packed with deep pocket drug dealers, executives that buy what ever is available to get them high, high class prostitutes…All of them…Filth, masked in the scent of perfume. I make my way to the bar and motion for the bartender to come over. He approaches me and I say one word, “Shakespeare.” He replies, “No, no sweet heart, if you want Shakespeare, he’s through those double doors, sitting in the Section A VIP room.” Only if the poor bartender knew what he just did. The scent of death before the kill: The double doors, Section A. I find it. I open the swinging doors and approach the man in the top hat. I say “Shakespeare?” The men and scantily clad women in the room started to laugh. “Who’s asking?” I make a quick move for the man in the top hat and fifty’s style suit. He was in motion drinking his wine from the wine glass. I smash the glass while he was still drinking ensuring that the glass penetrated his oral proximity. I yank a chunk of the glass from his upper lip and use it to seal his demise with his throat sliced. The rush…It envelops me. Now he rests in hell. The others in the room braced themselves back as I stood there with fresh blood on my hands. I was about to kill the other men and women because I leave no witnesses, but one of the men spoke. “Shakespeare…you wanted Shakespeare…That man wasn’t him. The guy you just killed was just a regular guy looking to have a good time.” Witnesses…damn. But I can’t kill the innocent. I freeze for what seemed like an eternity…Fresh blood…The taste of victory. No. I have never felt this before…The blood of an innocent. How could I be wrong? How could I be wrong!? My chest starts to seize and I hurry to exit the club. I hear voices yelling “stop her!”…”call the police” …“Jared is dead, call the cops.” The man I just murdered. His name was Jared. Innocent blood on my hands…This should not have been. I throw off all opposition and flee to the streets. They saw my face. They all saw my face. I wasn’t careful and now I will be the hunted. Who knew that I was coming? Where is Shakespeare? Shakespeare was supposed to be here…tonight. My mind races with thoughts making me light headed and awfully dizzy. I find a pay phone. The sky is dark. No moon tonight. I stumble into a seemingly empty alley. I hear something…or someone. I halt and hide myself in the shadows. Emerging into one of the few dim lights in the alley was a young female; perhaps sixteen or seventeen. I hear her speak, “I know you are here…I saw you run in here. Are you OK?”


Stay tuned.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Chelsea Graves

Alright guys, here's Chelsea Graves, the waitress from Vince's Cafe House, that seems to have a little something for Gabe. She's a bit bubbly at times, and always seems to be smiling. She often gets a bit clumsy in Gabe's presence and goes out of her way to serve him what ever he may want. A cute young woman trying to put some money in her pockets and pay her bills. One of the few untainted citizens of the city.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Act 4

Sorry Guys...There's no audio clip for this one. I hope I was descriptive enough to assist to you guys in using your imagination. Ha. Here's Act 4.


Turbulent Seed Dark Justice
Act 4: On Bushel Street


I smell the aroma of fresh coffee and doughnuts as I enter Vince’s Café House. Willis and I are greeted with the sweet sounding oldies form the fifties and sixties. The good music…Not the kind of music artists release now-a-days and wanna’ call it good music. The tables are neatly set and the regulars are seated where they are always seated every time I come in. I guess that’s why I like this place. The element of change is almost nonexistent. This seems to be the only place untouched by this cities degradation.
Willis and I take our seats at the back of the café where we usually sit. I pick up the news paper from the checkered table to read the head lines. Predictable…It’s always the same. More coverage on the rapes, murders, riots. It has become such a way of life in this city that no one seem to care about making the situation better. Willis grabs the menu…predictable…I ask myself why does he take the menu when he always orders the same thing; black coffee, hazelnut doughnut, and a bacon and eggs sandwich with a little ranch sauce on top. I lift my head up from the newspaper and catch the waitress coming over to our table, our eyes meet and she gives us a wave, followed by a friendly smile. Chelsea…the waitress’ name is Chelsea. As predicted Willis orders the same meal. Before I could start speaking, Chelsea spoke the words I was about to speak…“Latté, with a Boston Cream doughnut, and a turkey salad sandwich.” I nodded. Chelsea gave the big grin she usually gives and disappeared in the back to fulfill the orders. “I think she likes you Gabe,” I heard Willis say. I ponder over his statement for a moment and review in my mind several of her flirtatious actions in the past that I didn’t care to read into or even give a second thought. I tried changing the subject and ask Willis. “Do you think that our city will ever enjoy having pro sports team again?” “Not a chance, he replies…This city is too far gone.” I miss the good ol’ days.
My ears once again tune into the sweet music as I hear the sounds of Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack. I glance at the widow beside us viewing the dreary city streets. I pretend that the streets were once again safe. I pretend that we once again had a system that can be fully trusted. Then I hear it, that inevitable voice over the CB. I hear the sirens in the distance now. The voice over the CB directs our attention to Bushel Street. I glance over at Willis and give him the same head gesture I always give when the CB goes off. Chelsea returned with our orders in time, but this is a meal to go…and fast.

Bushel Street. The red-light district of this now pathetic city: I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Crime rate more than tripled in the past year. The murders, rapes, riots, robberies…they all keep climbing. We even have preschoolers in the midst of some of these crimes. It sickens me beyond disgust. This is what I wake up to every day. This is the life of this once great city. My job is starting to seem meaningless. After Harrison and two other officers were found as corrupts a little while back I became wary of those I surrounded myself with…almost to the point of paranoia. But this is my job…to serve and protect the “innocent”. Classified as an “A” class Officer, I think I’m loosing my wits.
We approach Bushel Street, watching as the prostitutes, and drug dealers linger with false innocence. The ambulance haven’t arrived yet, only 2 other cop cars plus ours.
This is ridiculous, I thought to myself as I approached the deceased body, in the middle of the road. This was an obvious hit and run. I smell alcohol all over him. I almost choke by the stench of his body odour mixed with the alcohol. “Samuels”, I hear a voice call. It was Officer Polanski. He called me over to brief me on what he already found out, and to have me speak to an eye witness. I left Willis to continue to assess the dead body. The witness mentioned that the deceased was with a female before he stumbled into the street. “A prostitute,” I asked. “She sure as hell was. She’s the new bitch that came around here earlier trying to steal all our business,” the witness replied. After speaking with the witness for some minutes more, I find out that the mystery lady was looking for a man named Shakespeare, the notorious pimp and drug dealer, and a key ingredient to Ice’s organization. According to the witness’s reports, the mystery lady deliberately pushed the man in the midst of moving traffic. This buzzes my nerves. It some how makes no sense to me. Why assist in the death of a pathetic, but innocent man. It’s now become clear to me that Shakespeare needs to be dug out of his hole. I return over to the body in the middle of the street and notice that the right breast pocket on his jacket was loosened. It was buttoned when I observed it earlier. I quickly dismiss the thought. Willis is thorough, I tell myself. Bushel Street. God knows it’s dirtier than the filth in the sewers of hell. I look up at the night sky that once again, blankets the city.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Willis

Here is a picture of Willis, Gabe's partner. Willis has been Gabe's partner for about 6 months now. His previous partner was relieved of his duties due to substantial injuries he recieved during a drug raid operation.Willis is generally a quiet person, but does his job well...thorough to the core.

So there you go...a little more about Willis.

Now check out the drawing I did at about 4:00 am Sunday morning. Yah I know... I must be crazy, but I just couldn't sleep, LOL. Any ways, enjoy the picture below.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Turbulent...Technique

I have considered turning Turbulent Seed into a comic book, but I feel that it may loose some of it's essence. I am, however, strongly considering taking the series to Flash presentation, as an interactive story book, with possible narration for the characters. This will not happen for some time. It is still just an idea.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

To better see my technique I use when penciling, you can click on the thumbnails below to see the smaller version of the original pencil scans.



Thursday, April 27, 2006

Act3: Bushel Street

OK... I managed to finish the audio for act 3. I still need to write act 6 so don't expect Act4 next week. Aiight, here you go... Act 3... ENJOY...:P

Turbulent Seed: Dark Justice

ACT3: Bushel Street

Click the play button to Play audio along with story.



I feel a cold chill in my stomach as I remember that dreadful night…the night of my rape…the night of my mother’s murder. It replays in my mind like a kid replaying his favorite scene from his favorite movie…over and over and over again. I can’t shake it…my drive, my motive, my life: and just like that I dispel the thought as if it never happened, like a day dream. My mind refocuses. This incident serves as a distraction and if I am not careful, it’ll get me killed, but this is my fuel. The task…I did manage to fit a piece of the puzzle from the two thugs I killed 3 days ago. The cops are smart. They’ll find it too and figure it out.

The girls on Bushel Street are notorious for being loose. Prostitutes litter the streets like confetti. Old rundown building makes for whore houses. Bushel Street resembles the streets of 19th century England, narrow and tight. Garbage is a common sight and the scent of filth and liquor fill the air….Acrid… The police sweep this place clean every week but the sick lowlifes keep returning. Bushel Street was once known for its inviting shopping outlets. Now those outlets harbour criminal degenerates. You won’t find the working class hanging around here. They just drive through. Every once in a while, though, you’ll find an executive or two in one of the whore houses. Filth.

This is where the Night Soldiers spend their money. If it’s not spent on drugs and weapons, it’s spent on the cheap sex. The girls love it because it’s money in their pockets. It’s also a safe bet that they won’t get raped without it being paid for. That is where I end up. Bushel Street. Dressed in the flesh of a harlot… There is a man I want to meet tonight…and this is the place I am guaranteed to find him. He goes by the name Shakespeare. Word on the street says he gets poetic with his shi*, using scriptures to justify his vile acts. Pathetic piece of horse shi*; it’s him I need to see. I expose myself for the first time dressed as a harlot. I feel the raging heat of the night beat on my shoulders. I see the men watch me pass by the ways. I see the Bushel Street harlots eye me with disgust as if to say, “you’re not gonna’ be cashing in on my men tonight.” Stupid whores, only if they knew my intentions. I approach one of the men on the streets. I say… “Hey sugar, I’m wondering if you can help satisfy my curiosity tonight.” The masculine figure in front of me smells like hard liquor. He’s had one too many, and it shows. He responds…”I could definitely satisfy any thing you want. How much do you charge? I hope it ain’t an arm and a leg, cause’ with a body like that I’d gladly give them up.” His breath almost suffocates me. Piercing like a needle to my nostrils. He grabs my rear. I must play along. “You’re new here aren’t you,” he asks. He raises my hand and views the purple bracelet, a signature for all the Bushel Street prostitutes. One of the harlots approaches us and grabs the crotch of the man in front of me. “Is this bitc* wanting to take you from me darling,” she says. “Get off my nuts Elsa, I’m going for this new pussy tonight”, he replies. She stares with disgust and calls me a bitc*. I don’t care… Normally a phrase like that would get her arm broken in two places with her leg facing the opposite direction; but I didn’t care. I had a job to do. I move in closer to the man in front of me, stomaching his horrid scent. I whisper in his ears. “I will fuc* you in more ways than one if you tell me what I want to know.” I figure in his drunken state he’d reveal anything to anyone. I ask him…”Where can I find the one they call Shakespeare?” I watch him stumble back a bit before he says. “Oh baby…baby, you know not just any woman can see Shakespeare, unless you’re one of his VIP, money making, hoes, and…you’re just a toddler”. I move his hand to my chest and whisper again…”That’s too bad… I guess you won’t be riding this train tonight.” I turn to move the opposite direction. I feel his hand grab mine. I got him. I play him like a game of checkers. He’s too horny to figure it all out. Before long I find out all I need to know. I find out Shakespeare’s location, his first rate harlot, and his rotation. He’s the biggest pimp around. “So how about that night of wonderland fuc*ing,” the man in front of me asks. He grabs at my rear and pulls my hair as I try to bail. Wrong decision, but I can’t do anything here now. I must not expose anymore of myself. “You promised me some good loving, baby, and I expect you to deliver like a whore suppose to,” he says. “Sorry not tonight cowboy,” I reply. I watch as he removes a blade from his right pants pocket, and starts swinging it violently. I remember how I killed those two thugs in the alley three nights ago. I haven’t killed since then and this low life son-of-a-bitc* was asking for it. His death would be as easy as breathing but I couldn’t kill him. He was too far gone. I manage to push him off me and I watch him stumble in the street. Bushel Street is not usually busy with traffic this time of night, usually the streets are ghost, and every one recognizes each car that pulls in.
My aggressor is now standing in the middle of the street calling me all sorts of perverse names. I act as the helpless victim to keep up my role. I see it coming but I did nothing. A loud crash erupted in my ears followed by a piercing screech…then silence filled the air. My aggressor was hit by a car. My immediate problem was fixed. I watch as people rushed to surround my former aggressor.
I didn’t kill him. I did not kill him. He died of his own stupidity and filth. The driver of the car was obviously intoxicated with alcohol. I spotted something wrapped around is upper left arm, giving me the idea that he was maybe also high on heroin or something of the sort.
I must now find Shakespeare. The bastard has young teenage girls as his highest paid solicitors. The men love it. Bushel Street…tainted with the corruption of illegal prostitution, drugs and filth. I make my exit easily. All focus and attention is now on the dead victim in the middle of the street.
The cops will be here soon. I must hurry. I look for a phone to make a call.