Forlorn Too by Tony Norton

Still from Digging up the Marrow

Still from Digging up the Marrow

From the piling up of layers of silence in the urgent phone call Cal knew something was very wrong. From her staccato tone, interspersed with often pregnant pauses and the phasing in and out between her words Cal knew Jules was in trouble. Cal knew Jules….. This felt serious.
As he drove the three miles to her house a million thoughts ran through his mind racing away with all sorts of horrible permutations. He had to prepare for the worst.That redneck cock of a husband of hers always took umbrage when Cal was around. Getting out of the pick up he reached reassuringly around back of his Jeans and felt the security of the handle of the hunting knife buried in his belt. His anxiety sat like a golf ball in his tight throat. It was 5.30 in the morning and the sun had just crept up over the fir-tree horizon. Everything was eerily quiet….too quiet. Adrenaline coursing he strode up to the front door and gave it three deliberate knocks. Time stood still – he fidgeted nervously – off one foot onto the other waiting an eternity for the door to open.
The latch clicked and Jules stood in front of him. She had the face of the haunted. Hair matted, grubby nightdress flecked with crusty dried blood. No words were spoken as she took him by the hand through to the kitchen. Laid out on the kitchen floor was Dwayne in a pool of gelatinous blood. The stench of shit was overpowering as he had obviously lost control of his bowels in his final clamour for life. Two sentinel blue-bottle realistically worked patterns above the corpse in a time to the flickering amber strobe of strip light. For a moment they hypnotized Cal into a trance and he stared at the enormity of what had happened.
Jules began to sob which broke the spell.
“Jules…..this was always going to happen… it was the only conclusion… the only thing in doubt was would he kill you first”
At the utterance of the word kill Jules began to unravel. She began sobbing uncontrollably uttering a series of garbled justifying nonsense.
Cal took her in his arms for what seemed eternity. He knew he had to help her…he had already calculated the implications but the choice was made.
Within twenty minutes he was back from the hardware store with 20 gallons of bleach and a roll of industrial polythene. He had also purchased a large hack saw. Dwayne was a big mother and he would have to break the job down into manageable chunks. After some intense labour six packages were wrapped and ready to be shipped. He was careful, wore surgical gloves and made sure he didn’t sweat on the fruits of his labour. All the while Jules sat in the living room looking hollow at inane daytime television. The house stank of bleach which gave Cal a nauseous feeling in the warmth of the late summer Sun.
They would move him under the cover of night.
After a torturous endless day reluctant night finally relinquished wearily shading out the last rays day. At last they could stop jumping at shadows and take the body the 10 mile drive to the coast.
Cal loaded the six neat packages into the back of his pick up. With a dead body in the back and the walking dead in the seat next to him it would be a long silent drive.
As they left the rural town and headed out Cal’s mind began to pay tricks on him. What if tricks….what if Jules cracked and blabbed…she was showing signs of a breakdown? What if the guy at the hardware store was suspicious of his purchases? Shit , he didn’t even take his eyes off his phone and couldn’t give the least of a fuck.
What if……,BANG!!!!
Fuck…ran straight into another vehicle coming at a right angle the other way!!!!
Fuck …..Fuck….
Brakes screeching he came to an abrupt stop..
It seemed like it had all happened in slow mow.
He had hit it side on.
He got out if his pick up just as the tall guy with the beard came screaming out of the driver’s side of the saloon. Shouting the odds he looked like a madman.
“Sorry Dude… My fault…I was miles away “said Cal.
“You fucking imbecile…you could Have killed me you dumb fuck”
I didn’t….Look Dude..its my fault…chill the fuck down…
In the quiet of the night Cal heard the voice of a small child crying out
“Help Me” from the gap in truck the crash had created.
Cal eyes darted to the trunk and back to the stranger.
Immediately Cal’s hand reached around for his blade.
There was a look of sheer terror on the stranger’s face his hand went
straight to clutching his chest.
He was deathly white and choking.
He collapsed eyes wide, scared shitless and died there and then of a massive heart attack.
Cal could hear soft sobbing coming from the trunk.
Engine still running he popped the trunk and found a girl there of no more the six or seven…petrified.
Cal saw opportunity. He picked up the girl and passed her to Jules. He took the body of Dwayne out of his pick up and put him into the saloons trunk. He then dragged the dead stranger into the back of the saloon. He told Jules to follow him and he drove the saloon the last two miles to the coast.
He put the stranger in the driver’s seat and put the car into drive and watched it nonchalantly break through the barrier and over the cliff top.
He jumped back in the pick up and drove Jules and the little girl home.
He waited all next day watching the news ….nothing.
Jules and the girl, who said her name was Sadie, bonded together. Both seeking solace away from their own respective horrors.
Then the news he was waiting for came the next day….
News item….
“Renown convicted paedophile Charles Altman was found dead in his car at the bottom of Newton cliffs this morning. In the trunk of the car were several body parts of an unknown Caucasian male and the body of Sadie Turner the seven-year old who he had subsequently abducted late last week”
Cal’s blood froze….
He looked into kitchen ……Jules and Sadie were sat, busy colouring, oblivious.
Neither of them seeming to even acknowledge that Cal was even in the house.

Once Upon A Dark Cliff by kaber13

Once Upon A Dark Cliff by kaber13

Original Fiction by Tony Norton

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Forlorn by Tony Norton

Lost in the graphite charcoal shadows of half hidden worlds on the wrong side of Murderous Midnight.
A Sterile backdrop.
The Flickering hum of a twitching winking strobe of the hypnotic cold kitchen strip light.
Sitting ….stunned…..traumatised.
Detached She gazes vacantly into the vacant space
Next to her lies a black mirror pool of dark coagulating gelatinous blood.
Iron smell of aging hours old blood and excrement cloyingly hangs in the balmy hot night air.
The whir and click of the refrigerator keeps snapping its fingers dragging her back to a semblance of reality. Her reality, only confirmed by her shallow deliberate quiet breaths.
The Amber stage limelight providing a dirty orange glow, gloomily illuminating the murderous celluloid scene.
Towering Acts of a Shakeapearianesque tragedy pitifully played out to the only possible forgone critical conclusion.
Quiet…. Now.
Damage Done.
She sits staring at her hollow past. This, the culmination of years of systematic abuse put to an end right here, next to her on the cold judgemental linoleum.
Her past lying dead next to her.
A twinge of pain in her bleeding broken ass hole sends a waking wave of electrical justification, appeasing her tormented questioning thoughts.
The scene, re run again and since played out a thousand times in her aching head.
Frantically Searching …..
Searching desperately, for a different outcome….. but always reaching the same sickly thudding conclusion.
Too much…it was too much this time.
Violated and broken once too many a time.
Naked from the waste down, hair matted with dry blood and neck stinking of rank mouthed beer breath.
Her waif like body covered in a uniform of angry bruises and bite marks of varying ages and severity..
Hammered so many times..
Queue ironic fate.
Fate stepped in and lent a hand. Played it’s murderous part. As she helplessly leaned broken onto the kitchen table to help get her back to her feet she inadvertently placed her hand on the steak hammer left there, used to tenderise the meat for the attempted peace-offering earlier.
The first blow landed on the back of the skull as he walked away from her.
He spun around with a disbelieving incredulous look in his dark eyes. Like a marionette with severed strings he began to lurch and jerk on failing legs.
The next double-handed blow landed from a wider arc on the temple dislodging hair with some skull bone fragments  attached and felled him like a lumbered redwood. He lay twitching  and convulsing on the kitchen floor his lifeblood, moaning and leaking – oozed out of him.
Two hours later, in the longest night of her life she still sat still in silence. The gravity of the situation much too much to contemplate in the deep dark of night.
Mornings Cold unforgiving light would bring the clarity of undeniable truth. Whatever tomorrow would  bring it would remove uncertainty. The uncertainty gone and the possibility of her making another tomorrow.
She would stand and face the future no matter what.
No remorse.
No remorse, she had sent him straight to Hell.
He belonged there.
She was beaten bloodied and violated but remained unbroken.
Her only regret ….that she hadn’t done it sooner.
In the clinical unforgiving inevitable morning, fates wind would blow in the future breeze of change.


Written by Tony Norton @iwilltwittowho

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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I Know You by Tony Norton

"I know you, I've walked with you once upon a dream"

“I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream”

I Feel You
I Feel Your Despair
I Smell the disdain
Your disdain
I know those Contours of Your Veneer
I See the Constrictions of Your Delicate Eggshell Shell
Your Oh So Fragile Dam
The Dam
that holds back ….
…. Groaning….
A Reservoir of Leagues and Fathoms of Hidden Teetering Tears
I know the layers of that Grease-paint Masque
I know Your script
The Lines Learned
Your Queued Entries
Timley Exits
Your Sorry Scenes
Your Acts
Your Parts
I know those Parts
Those Parts You Play
You Play So very well
A Performance
Oscar Worthy each time
A Million Miles from the hidden truth
I know Your Sadness
I know Your Facade
Your Silent Scream
In the depth of Sleepless Night
After Night
After Night
I know it all
I feel You
Your Despair
You are Me


Original poetry by Tony Norton

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
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The Lifting of the Veil by Tony Norton

Lifting The Veil

Lifting The Veil

Petite Mal…the Dr said.
Quite common, a mild problem and nothing to worry about.
Joel had suffered with this malaise for all of his adult teenager years without ever giving it a name. Now, he felt relieved. The CAT scan confirmed that there was no underlying tumour or anything more sinister causing the problem. His latest bout had brought him and his parents frantically rushing to the E.R rooms as it was longer and deeper than any of the others he had had. He had dealt with the issue, up until now, like every other red-blooded male and chose to ignore it, hoping that it would just go away of its own accord.He had put the fear to the back of his mind, and carried on, regardless. Being a gangly gothic teenager, Joel’s mood swings were expected as the norm so he could, up until now, hide his illness behind his distant persona.
Petite Mal…..the demon named. He began, obsessively researching the web for anything and everything to do with it. He found that there were different severities of it. Some of the most gifted people on earth suffered from it. Illustrious names like Vincent Van Gogh, Isaac Newton, Charles Dickens and Leonardo Da Vinci to name but a few. Recently his episodes had become more intense. This was helping him understand and come to terms with his illness. Maybe, looking at the list of sufferers, it was not an illness, but a gift?
The Monday Morning train journey was the one he hated the most. Cramped carriages full of the walking dead. Soulless zombies, devoid of life, immersed in their digital self. All plugged in with auroras of”fuck off” radiating off them. The soft drizzle added to the ambience. The sort of grey blown rain that teases and probes its way into every nook and every cranny, soaking souls into reluctant submission. The coughing and spluttering a result of urgent germs taking to the air in order to spread their purposeful offspring. As usual, by the time the train got to Joel’s stop, there was no room for him to sit. He stood, teetering and shifting his position every time the train took a bend. On this dark winter morning, he couldn’t even seek solace by looking out of the window as the pitch black backdrop just gave him a duplicate reflected image of the miserable carriage he was travelling in.
The forty minute journey to University would be a very long forty minutes.
Suddenly the train jerked. Joel fell forward, grabbed the bar above the seats and then….. it happened.

Suspended animation.

The whole carriage, frozen in time. All except Joel. Every person in the carriage paused in a Munch style scream. Their faces twisted and contorted in despair and agony. Joel’s eyes darted from face to face, all of them the same, petrified. All except a grey haired old man at the back of the carriage. He smiled and doffed his black cap to Joel. He could see the fear in Joel’s eyes.
“Don’t worry Boy” he called out. It’s the lifting of the Veil.
You are blessed My Boy …you are a SoothSayer…a rare commodity these days”
A million questions flooded into Joel’s mind…however, his tongue simply wouldn’t work.
“Beware the Code Writers …My Boy…if they find you..they will get you…they will get you programming the future. They will cube and square route your freewill.
“But…why is everyone in so much pain?” asked Joel.
“Behind the Veil, the Code Writers ensure that everybody has a life of angst and turmoil” said the old man. It’s for them, the Masters, the Archangel’s. They feed off the pain. It’s the misery and woe that gives them life.
“But what……
The next thing the train lurched forward again, and Joel was back in the carriage. He looked around, everyone, all blissfully unaware. The Old Man, in the corner, no longer there. In his place, an androgynous man, with a laptop, furiously typing. He looked up and stared straight through Joel, with a knowing cold clinical look that sent a shiver right through him. He knew that Joel knew, and Joel knew his life would never be the same again.
And so the Chase had begun….

From that moment on Joel saw the Code Writers everywhere. Subtly they stood out like a sore thumb. Always of a similar ilk, androgynous and always with a technological gadget in their hand. Furiously typing, coding, re writing the immediate future. The futures of those they came into contact with. Joel knew they knew he noticed them. He felt very uneasy whenever he saw one of them. He never stayed around long enough to find out why. He became very fearful of having another episode. Not knowing what could happen if the veil slipped again. He had so so many questions. He was fearful of using the net to answer his questions too. Even the dark web presented him with a very big element of risk. He needed some answers.
Joel decided to visit a run down second-hand bookstore that some of the students used to trade in their textbooks. He vaguely remembered that in the musty fusty old basement there was a section on mythology magic and the supernatural. He wrote down some bullet points, Archangel’s, the Veil, inter dimensional beings, the usual science fiction. Except, Joel knew in his Heart of Hearts it was not. Not Fiction at all. This was the most scary thing…this was actually happening.
Joel caught the bus into the centre of the city. He began to notice. He noticed people more and he noticed numbers much more. The numbers of the busses he caught, the prices of anything he bought. He began to add to bills so the the end result ended up an even number. He caught even-numbered busses and walked half a mile rather than catching odd numbers. He became very distrustful and further withdrawn.
It was a sunny cold winter’s day. Joel got off the bus, and walked the last half mile into the city. The city, as always was very busy. Even now, early, there was a steady stream of people going their own way. Except Joel knew different. Their paths, mapped out, plotted by vectors, choices made for them. He began to think of them not as people, but as pixels. As little energy pods, solar cells for them – the other side of the veil. Charged with misery, ready to be ….Harvested.
He reached the book shop. It was off the main street, down a little Victorian undercover Arcade. There were lots of quaint quirky little shops, a refreshing change from the mainstream chain stores cloned on every city’s high street. He entered the shop, its low ceilings laying pay to his claustrophobia. There was a smell of old books in the air and he climbed down the rickety old stairwell.
Down in the basement he began to delve. He picked out one book, then another, then another. After about an hour it was clear he could not carry them all. He put some back. Carried four upstairs ( not five) and paid for them…cash. He threw in a bookmark to bring the price into the even.
At the happened….
He zoned out and became aware of the otherness.
The world was grey and he could hear a faint distant hum. It was the unmistakable hum of technology. Out of the ether, the little old Man appeared.
“Quick Boy….no time….take this….”
He put his hands either side of Joel’s head.
A brilliant burning image appeared in front of him.
“This is Metatron’s Cube….its the key to crossing”
“Take it… hurry Boy…He and Sandalphon are on to You”
“Use the Cube to Cross”
Before Joel could ask he was back in the bookstore. The goofy shop assistant asking “Dude…You OK?…You kinda Zoned out for a moment there Bro?”
Joel left….books under his arm, with the image of Metatron’s Cube firmly burned into his brain.

Joel, in the warmth of the midday winter sun made his way back home on the bus. Paranoia had taken a deep root within him and he felt like he was continually being watched. He furtively glanced up at the other passengers all of which were non descript and not interested in Joel. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the searing burned image of Metatron’s Cube branded on his mind’s eye. He needed answers to so many questions?
On arriving home, as usual, he went up to his bedroom. He started reading the books.
Archangel’s history’s Heralds. He looked at the list of chapters and went straight to the section on Metatron’s Cube.
The book read,
“There are 13 Spheres of Metatron’s Cube.
They represent the 13 Archangels that stand before ‘God’.
Each One a Sacred Keeper of one element of the Creation.
Within the cube there are embedded elements of fire, water, earth, air and ether. There is also representation of every single element within the periodic table.
The 13 Archangels (ie the 13 Spheres of Metatron’s Cube) are present through all levels of creation. Archangels are omnipresent everywhere, in each and every moment.
Archangels are also ‘within you’, they exist within the Chakras and Energy Meridians) in order bring balance. In Eastern philosophy, the Tao, or Yin Yang resides in the centre of the Cube.
The words resonated with Joel…”everywhere in each and every moment”
The old man had told him that this was the key to crossing?
What did he mean? How?
Joel was scared. He was way out of his depth here.
Why…why him? What the fuck could he do?
He began to draw the pattern in his mind’s eye. He tried a few times, but its complexity halted him. He took the pen to paper, started with the thirteen concentric circles and began joining them. One by one the pattern began to take shape. As he drew, he felt first the pen, then his arm start to melt away. Into the ether, Slowly he began to see the images. Greys at first, ethereal cloudy blank canvass grey. It was accompanied by the drone of travelling electricity. Then came the colours.
Starburst Red and all its hues, searing bright and red-hot. An image of an Angel standing on the surface of the Sun in wondrous glory. The centre of the Universe and the bringer of life. Then the Vista changed, to deep hues of Cobalt Blues. There rose a massive Tsunami Wave and at its Herald, a Pure Blue Angel of Shimmering Shifting Water. Water, the cornerstone of life.
Again the colours began to change and shift, the blue of water and the yellows of light began to transform to greens. Water’s gave way to ground, islands rising , proud. Vernal greens began to grow, grow up out of the solid ground. Roots, branches, trees all began to morph into the shape of a Glorious Angel standing Rampant in the Forest of the Earth. Then the vision shifted…..shifted to high, above . Soaring above the Earth there flew a Golden Angel of the Air with a Golden trumpet. He blew the trumpet and its piercing blast caused the Vista to change again.
The fabric began to melt, to merge into the ether and the Angel of Metal and Matter hovered before him. He was not whole , but mercurial. He was of the chemical ether and Joel could FEEL him, he felt him in his heart, he felt his love, Joel wanted to stay there, for eternity, to never go back.
In that instant he heard a voice calling him, Joel woke with a start.
The Old Man was there, with him in his bedroom.
“At Last Boy….I have been waiting for you”
I have so much to tell You”
Joel felt sick , sick he was back in reality.

“Don’t fret my boy… I have seen many of your kind before…you are blessed..a Soothsayer…you’re kind are revered both sides of the veil. The worst that can happen is that you will be made to work for them…writing codes for the future.
My name is Paul, Paul Marrane. Some call me Matthias, others Buttadeus whilst others affectionately call me the Wandering Jew. I have lived a thousand lives and I will continue to do so until the Rapture. The signs in heaven tell Me that my penance is nearly over. That soon we will see the Return of the Nazarene. I ask you now for Hermitage?”
I don’t understand, said Joel?
Hermitage, Sanctuary, a Safe haven?
Safe from what..Joel asked?
Grant me this moment in time so that I may explain?
Yes…of course… I have…
“Tempus Stat”
Time Stand Still….chanted Paul.

With that the world….Paused. Joe’s watch stopped and the background barking of the neighbor’s dog immediately stopped.
Paul began…….
In the scriptures, 1 Paul 1:16, God gave us a clear indication of how he wanted us to behave.
It say’s,
“but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; because it is written,
If you address as Father, the One who impartially judges according to each one’s work, conduct yourselves in FEAR during the time of your stay on Earth!!”
God noticed as time went by, man became more and more Godless. This angered the Lord for man carried on without any fear or fear of retribution. God decided that free will was the enemy of the Holy word.
He decided that every man, without God in his heart, would have his freewill taken from him.
It was too much of a task for there were so many godless on the Earth. He charged the Archangels with the task who in turn created and deployed the Code Writers to plot out the path for the unrighteous. They write out the miserable lives of all the ungodly.
Those with the love of Christ in their hearts have a firewall protection against the coders. They live the lives of free men with true free will.
The coders program misery because it charges more energy for the Archangel’s. The Angels are feeding on the energies in preparation for the Rapture. I believe the Rapture will be soon, for it is said, in the end of Days, many SoothSayers will walk the four corners of the Earth, proclaiming the coming Glorious Ascension.
Please…Now Joel..My Hermitage has been for three stopped seconds…two more than is allowable.
Please…I am sorry…I have to go.
Trust in Yourself Boy…look deep into yourself for the path you must take.
Choose wisely….
With that…Joel was back in his bedroom..more confused and scared than ever before?

Joel decided that he would.
He would have a long hard look at himself. Literally, to start with. He locked himself in the bathroom and stood in his underwear in front of the full length mirror on the back of the door. He was quite tall, around six one, to put an estimate on it, although he had never really measured himself. He was quite thin, skinny in fact, although he didn’t know what he weighed, as he never had actually weighed himself. He was gangly with a very pallid complexion. This was in stark contrast to his thick black mop of curly-ish hair. He stared into the mirror, closer. He could see his reflection of quite oily skin and realised why he never ever got this close to himself. He realised why at nineteen years of age he had never had a proper girlfriend. He was so awkward. Awkward looking, awkward sounding and awkward doing. He wasn’t really very good at anything. Average at Uni, average at sport, pretty much average at everything.
Pretty much nondescript. So Why?
Why Him..a SoothSayer? He looked up the definition of it on his mobile…”a person who can see the future”
He looked deep into his own eyes in the mirror…it was true…he could see the future staring back at him, his own future lay there mapped out before him…nondescript and awkward.
He began to feel lost. In his own bathroom, in his parents house, he did not have a clue who he was, where he was or where he was actually going.
He showered, the glistening droplets reminding him of the pixel people, shiny, aimless and cascading down towards the plug hole.
He dried off, got dressed and decided that he would do some research on the net. They already knew about him, he knew nothing of them. They know who he is, where he lived and all of his movements. He felt like he had nothing to lose.
On googling Metatron he came across the following.

“Archangel Metatron teaches esoteric wisdom to children and adults. He seems to take a special interest in highly sensitive young people who are misunderstood or even medicated because their spiritual gifts make them socially awkward”
Esoteric indeed though Joel. If only the Angel fodder pixels knew the truth about their futures. But what of his future? What of all the futures? What about the future of the future? He decided to leave the veil down and concentrate on his future, his studies. What difference could he make anyway? Perhaps Metatron would show him the true way?
All of a sudden a thought came into his head…Isaiah 38?… Immediately he googled it.
“And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it”
With these words going over and over in his head Joel crawled over onto his bed, put out the light and fell into a deep sleep.

Joel began to dream.
Grey’s at first, grey’s with a soothing hum of electricity.
A bland sterile world leached and devoid of all feelings. His mind began to wander. He began to explore the limbo. Reaching out in front of him, ever long, a massive expanse of void. His search became more urgent. He began to feel cold. He started travelling in his mind faster and faster.
He began to panic.
He was getting colder and colder and more frantic. Mile after mile of cold grey expanse lay in front of him.
He was lost.
He stopped.
Stopped looking.
He remembered the voice of the Old Man
“Look into yourself”
Then you will truly see”
Joel noticed that the hum was accompanied by a small vibration. The grey he was standing on was vibrating. In his mind eye he immediately knew. The grey was his closed mind.He took a giant leap into the air and came down hard, heels first onto the membrane. There was a stretch an then a pop. Joel had broken through and he was bathed in a warm soothing amniotic fluid.
Brilliant colors glowed brightly with an iridescent sheen.
He was bathed in a kaleidoscope of light and saturated with love. He had never felt like this before. All the wonders of the universe shot past him in a million starbursts. He truly felt that this was eternity.
Then the 13 Archangels began to take shape and form before him.
They morphed and formed the pattern of Metatron’s Cube.
Slowly ….
Slowly …the cube began to spin.
The lights and colours of all the spectrum like a giant cumbersome Catherine wheel.
It started to gather momentum.
Faster and Faster and Faster.
It was now like a giant gyroscope, spinning and humming in a 4 dimensional plane.
The colors merged and gave way to LIGHT.
A blinding white light.
A Pure unbinding light.
Holy and Bright.
The light illuminated the path to the kingdom of heaven.
And Joel knew, that the path was one of infinite love.
He remembered the feeling of being lost…alone and frightening.
He remembered the grey… the Void.
He decided he would never feel like this again.

Joel woke with a start. He felt like he had slept for…eternity. In truth, he had overslept and had just twenty minutes to get up, get washed, get dressed and get the train to Uni.
He felt….better?
There was a cold nip in the air, which hurt his chest as he gasped in lungfuls running for the train. Clouds of billowy breath chuffed out before him and he felt, for the first time in a long time, happy?
The train was crammed full. Pixels everywhere, with code writers interspersed every few seats. Joel began to feel sorry for them. Their banal lives being plotted, planned and mapped out to create energies for the Archangels. Then he realised, he had no firewall, no protection. He looked at the codewriter three seats back…was he planning Joel’s code? He looked kind of smug…and Joel felt the happiness draining away from him. Joel began to focus. He was a soothsayer…he could see the future…could he see his own? He tried.. he couldn’t. Then he focused on the codewriter. All of a sudden he could see the vectors mapped out in front of him. He imagined a wasp…the wasp appeared…he imagined the wasp flying over to the codewriter and stinging him on the throat.
It did.
He imagined anaphylactic happened…pandemonium on the train.
Next station paramedics were called…there was an audible buzz on the train.. people began to forget themselves and focus in on the codewriter. They began chatting to people they had sat next to and hadn’t spoken to in six months.
Joel was late for Uni, felt guilty about the codewriter, but had learned two valuable things.
1. He could at least affect some futures
2. In times of trial and tribulations, humility and humanity shine through.
He needed to work on his firewall.

Whenever Joel wanted to from that day onwards he could see into anyones future. Everyone’s except his own. When peering , however, he could only see the next six months. First he thought he was limited in his visions. He soon came to realise that there wasn’t any future past a certain date. There was a stark abrupt end to the light. Immediately after the World was plunged into darkness and chaos but thankfully Joel could see no further. It terrified him and was in complete opposite to the feeling of love in the light.
He began to screenshot the pixels images and found he could place them into a folder within his mind’s eye. He could later on, with time and quiet go back over them in a slide show.
Most of the them showed some sort of misery and trauma which came to an abrupt end. Some of the endings showed a specific date on the calendar.
23 September 2015…..six months away.
Joel googled the date.
The Day of Atonement.
Yom Kippur. Hundreds of websites with all sorts of theories all depicting the end of time? Were the other Soothsayers making proclamation?
Joel knew in his heart of hearts that the day of atonement was coming. He had been having more and more episodes of late and his dreams and visions were becoming more intense. He had been delving more deeply into the Bible. He kept getting drawn back to one particular passage
Acts 2:17 – “And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams”
Joel found himself praying more and more and finding an inner peace with the light it illuminated within him. He found that as he carried on his daily life, the codewriters began to ignore him more and more. He still had n obsession of even numbers, of symmetry and balance. Often , if he saw one of the pixels having a particularly difficult time, he cut them some slacking proceeded to write them out a different future. This was much to the annoyance of the codewriters, who were clearly not happy with his intervention. Fuck them, he though, within six months this will all be over for them anyway. Let them have a bit of peace to the end of days.
Paul Marrane frequently popped into his head. Smiling furiously, knowing his penance was almost done.
Joel spent the next few months skipping studies in favour reading the scriptures. In his heart if heart he knew, the day of atonement, the rapture, the beginning of the end of days would all be on 23 September 2015.

It was a very warm Indian summer day on the 23rd. Joel lay on his back in the long dry grass looking up at the bright sun. He had watched the news breaking on his cellphone as the Earth began to get peppered by meteorite’s. Small ones at first, the vanguard of the mother lode to come.
Joel stared at the dancing photons. They began to cluster together in an intimate form.
The 13 Archangel’s, began to spin in the sky with an energy never once seen before.
Singularly at first but centrifuge drew them magnetically together. The spinning force began to form vortex of light. It began to grow, developing in a worm hole. The core beginning to stretch out into long cylindrical pathway.
Isaiah 35:8
“a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it”

Joel could see photons of light being drawn in by the vortex.Millions of enlightened souls joining in with the Rapture. He felt the wave of pure unending love wash over him.
Hallelujah ….Rejoice….he was drawn Up….embroidered into the fabric of space and time…joining in the wondrous Glory of God.

The last huge asteroid slammed into the Mid Atlantic just as the wormhole closed. It was the power of a thousand Hiroshima’s. Two gigantic Tsunami’s travelled towards the East coast of America and Western Coast of Europe. The debris obliterating all within its path. The ensuing clouds drew a dark veil over the Earth and blocked out the Sun’s light. Slowly but surely, every last spark of light, every last pixel was plunged into deep black darkness.
The End of Day’s had begun.

End of Days

End of Days

Original Fiction by Tony Norton

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Love Lies by Tony Norton

Love lies bleeding

Love lies bleeding

Waving Blood Rush
Bludgeoned Backhand Blow
Swung with Perfect Pitch
A Mallet on the Mandible
Landed on the Cochlear Sweet Spot
On…. the Off Switch…

Lights Out
Out Way Way before the coming of the Ground

I didn’t do it…
It wasn’t me..
it was Gravity!!
And Ground
And Gravity..
The Gravitas of Pure Gravity
In the Critical Mass of Gravity
Gelatinous Blood
Coagulation of Thoughts
A Fog
Pooling Black Mirror
Reflecting the End of My life
…. in the ending of Yours.


Your Poor
Pallord Face
Angellically Dead
Flecked with Blood Specks
Your Life…Outside Your Body

Love Caused this
Cruel Love
Cursed Love

Love Lest Life
Love Over
Life Over
Sharp Edge
Sliver of Broken Mirror
Placed by Hand
Placed there by Fate
Calm Now
Cuts Wrist Cable
Slight Pop
Metallic Scent
Welling of Iron
Not Long now My Love….Wait for Me…
Dark Pools
Pool together well.
Well Together forming Pools
Soon Together Again
A Life Lost to Love
I Rejoin with You
I’m Coming
I will Find You
I will Follow You
Follow You to infinity
Love will find a way

Brain: The Asset By: Akira Taiki

Brain: The Asset By: Akira Taiki

Original Poetry by Tony Norton

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Tony Norton Micro Poetry





Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Arrive in the Now by Tony Norton


Mental Forest Fires
Ruby Red Rages
Ripping Roaring Razing
Tinder Dry Pages

Pages Time Yellowed
Unloved Unread
Burning Away Words
Never To Be Said

Promises Promises
Promised – Made
Blocked by Excuses
Damned and Delayed

Tomorrow Tomorrow
Time Ticks On
Tomorrow’s Today
Today’s – Come and Gone

Open Your Eyes
Look Inside to See
Try to Be the Sum
Of All You Can Be

Putting things off
Letting things Wait
Can Fan Flame Infernos
Ablaze – Hot – Too Late

Wake Up to Connection
Wake up to the How
To Live for the moment
To Arrive in the Now

To Arrive in the Now


Original written work by Tony Norton

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Clown Challenge by Queen Warrior Slayer


Caged my monsters put them all on leashes,

cut out their tongues used a needle & thread to sew there eyes shut

Pushed them all in a large steel cage, there is no escape

They are no longer in my bed or under it, told them all to Fuck off

Caged little bastard Demons, I’m in control now

Seems the voices in my head have also vanished

For the 1st time, last night I can’t even recall the last time I had a good slumber?

I slept with out interruptions for 3 hours straight

Until I felt something pulling my foot

I awoke quickly to see, staring me right in my eyes, a wicked bloody clown

With out having a second thought

I reached for my screw driver

I keep many near by along with my box cutters

I plunged my screw driver in both of the clowns eye sockets

He went from an evil smile

to shock & torment

he let out a piercing scream

I then grabbed my box cutter to slash his throat

I watched him drop to the floor

I smiled gazing, laughing

as he was bleeding out Crimson blood

Covering my bedroom carpet

it was a pure brutal delight

Then I mounted the clown on my wall like a trophy

let that be a lesson to all evil clowns & Demons that dare enter my room

Beware Queen Warrior Slayer will not be disturbed ever again.


**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Fast Asleep

Verse by Christy Evans

Protected by The Freewill Writer's Asylum Vaults 2016

Protected by The Freewill Writer’s Asylum Vaults 2016

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015



 After all the little sheep have been tucked into bed, that’s when the scariest of monsters come out eyes glowing red. Tucked under the blanket warm and unknowing, that’s when the monsters begin to start showing. No foot or hand lingering over the edge, all fit in nice and neat. Just incase the monsters come to your bed side and drag you under the bed by your tiny little feet. As they hover around grunting brooding and seething, you lay there in bed fast asleep quietly dreaming. What a nice dream pleasant and sweet. While the monster stare at their tasty new delectable treat. Black and green and dripping with goo, as you lay there asleep not a hint or a clue. They have plans for you, they know just what to do. They’ll take you away somewhere dark somewhere evil and new. A place to torcher and break you…

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Wash Over You

Contemplative Bleed, Dark Poetry by Scarlet Genesis

 Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Scarlet Genesis

Refreshing cool, tingles on my bare skin
Purifying, cleansing my soul from within
Grains of sand drip agonizingly slow
Suffering in misery, I await my final blow


Splash on my tongue filled with seawater and brine
Warm rays on my face, a horizon defined
Tormented discomfort, my demise soon begins
Excruciating, restless, on needles and pins


Finding my solace, breeze caressing my hair
No doubting at all, I have not a care
Hands are in motion, though remarkably idle
Leaving me listless, delayed arrival


Buoyant and airy so weightless, so free
Utterly unshackled, heart filled with pure glee
Lung capacity shrinks with each labored breath
Anticipating my rescue line, inevitable death


Embraced by the waters that soothe riled nerves
I’m securely coddled, so snug, well deserved
With each passing tick my termination looms
The Reaper growing nearer, treads into the room


Waves growing choppy, it’s time to seek refuge

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