There's no Tune

He tries to find the note, but it is like searching for something that doesn't exist.  The light feels blinding, The throbbing behind his eyes is mind numbing, but still he searched.

The guitar drops onto the guitar rack as he pulls out a bottle of pills.  He pops a couple to relieve the tension building behind his eyes, but it will take quite some time before the relief comes.  An argument forms inside his mind - does he give up on it all or does he fight to hold onto what he cherishes.

The keyboard, perhaps, will be easier to find the tune he searches for, so he sits at the bench.  His hands can't even reach for the keys - the effort feels to be too much as his eyes feel as though they are bulging out of his skull.

Years ago, it was discovered that he typed best while he wasn't looking.  It was as though he could sense the keys before they struck, and he could correct as he went along.  He opens his laptop and begins to type up a story, or song lyrics, or even simply words to fill up a page; however, as his eyes open, they reveal little more than a blank page. 

A memory appears as though it is filling the entire room.  A woman rolling her eyes and speaking about how much time and money are wasted on these instruments.  She takes a violin and smashes it into the desk, shattering it into a million pieces.  The words become more sympathetic, but not towards him.  "You are ruining our lives."

His eyes open again to reveal the keyboard in front of him still, but once again he does not reach forward.  He gets up and walks to his room without the note or tune being explored.

The bright light is still intensifying the pain behind his eyes.

Another memory - this one of a better time, a time of hope - fills his mind.  The notes come easy no matter what instruments he picks up, and he can hear them fitting so perfectly.  The beat he devours into on drums and the rhythm of the bass set the mood.  Synthesizer adds more atmosphere.  The melody of the lead guitar adds a real punch.  It doesn't even feel real at this point.

A lump works it's way up his throat before he swallows it back down.  It is a hard swallow, but he presses forward with it and it slowly reaches back down to his stomach.

An image of the broken violin fills his mind again.  Maybe this is what he should be doing, but he has lost everything else anyway. 

The headache has started to reside, but still fills a very prominent space. 

"Not tonight," he tells himself.  "Not fucking tonight."  He presses a key on the keyboard and it rings out, but it still doesn't fit what he is trying to find.  A chord, but still wrong.  He tries another position, but still wrong.  He glances back at the guitar, but interest just doesn't come. 

His head still has yet to escape the pain.  He closes his eyes one more time, reaching his finger and thumb to squeeze the bridge of his nose.  It helps slightly, but there is too much pain.  His eyes open, he gets off of the bench, and walks out of the room - flipping the light switch as he exits. 

Stumbling through the pitch black hall, feeling the walls for guidance, he eventually finds his bedroom.  His head hurts so badly that he refuses to even so much as turn on the light.  He knows where the bed is, he plops down into bed, and closes his eyes for one final time tonight.  Memories of the arguments, the broken violin, the feeling of worthlessness do not grant him the same luxury.

-Dustin S. Stover

Ranting

There's an abundance of evidence within humanity that it has never been the researched proof that dissuades personal beliefs, but rather, that emotions guide personal bias. Abortion is a prime example. Racism and prejudice in general. One could even go as far as to claim the plethora of religions as yet another. Whether someone believes in climate change or not. The support of politicians, and which side of politics you fall on. To be a human is to be perpetually lost within your own insignificance. Allowing one to invest significance in what justifies their own personal feelings is just a means to bring value to their lives without putting in substantial work to create the value. It is also quite the perplexing notion that those with the most conviction for their personal biases are also the ones most angered by those who disagree with them. Except, their's nothing perplexing about it once you consider that they've placed their entire value into their personal beliefs, thus leading to feeling insulted when someone disagrees with them.

-Dustin S. Stover

Not Your Hero

I am not your hero.
I wear the dirt on my face,
scars upon my brow,
and muck upon my hands.

The same as everyone else.

I am not your hero.
Despite your claims,
your desires to put me on a platform,
and despite the things I have helped with.

I just care, the way I feel we all should.

I'm not your fucking hero.
I'm just another person.
I'm just another person.
I'm just.

A hero wears a cape.
They do nothing wrong.
They rescue people from trains.
They have comic books written about them.

All I've done is listened.
And perhaps, offered advice.

So I'm not a fucking hero. 
I don't want to hear about how you feel that I am.
I don't want the praise of being a hero.
I am the same as everyone else.

I just cared.

-Dustin S. Stover

Days (Gone By)

We work our lives away,
so we can retire some day,
and watch the bluejay
float and flutter another way.

We regret our lives spent
wasted on work days and repent.
Life, it came and went
without our permission, heaven sent.

The notion of heaven is hard.
No guarantee, not even a shard.
Filled with sugar and lard,
our lives full of guards.

Wasted.

A smarter person
would learn to live early on;
their end days being spent
reliving the good times.




-Dustin S. Stover

The Dangers of Religion: Volume 1

Before I get started, I will preface this by stating that I do not believe that religion makes you a bad person.  In no way do I believe that it would reduce your value as a human being in any way.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I will start.

Let us start with the foundation of all religions - faith.  It requires faith for anyone to believe in any religion.  Now, humanity, in essence, has to have faith in something in order to not lose hope in their future.  Upon examining society as a whole, it is easy to lose yourself in all the negativity from the most external sources - murder, rape, and Donald Trump - to the most internal - the philosophical questioning of what meaning there is in this world to us as individuals or even as a society.  Faith that there is meaning, that we won't know someone who gets murdered, raped, or turn into Donald Trump, that's what keeps us together through the bad times.

Faith is also what prevents us from taking things to a whole different level of understanding.  From a philosophical standpoint, there requires an inherent distrust in faith in order to even want to research an understanding of a topic.  If, then, faith is a necessity and also something that prevents us from understanding more deeply, where is the breaking point?

This is the most dangerous aspect of religion.  Ingrained in every religion is an inherent distrust in questioning the religion itself.  Religion teaches us that by searching for meaning outside of the religion, to search for an understanding of the world around us, is to betray the very faith one has in the religion itself.  Religion requires absolutely no proof to support it's claim - it only requires itself and the one believing it to affirm it's existence.

Thusly, we have a circular pattern that encapsulates nothing more than itself, and the more one dedicates themselves to that circle the more they stop relying on proof to believe something.  Eventually, because there is no supporting evidence for any religion, one must ignore all proof in order to justify their very belief system.

This is the foundation of what makes religion so dangerous.  When confronting a religious person as to the evidence of the Big Bang Theory, as an example, the religious will come up with various stories to confirm their own belief in their religion as opposed to look at the evidence and see even an inkling of potential truth in the theory.  If one can be so blind to facts as to essentially shun the very notion then immediately you're automatically stuck in a scenario where reality as ceased to matter.

Of course, that scenario is a rather extreme one so let me dial it back a bit to the faith that God always has a plan, which is often times preached by Christians and the subsets of Christianity as a means to justify bad things that happen.  This is perhaps the most bothersome saying, at least to me, as all it really does is confirm their own justification in their faith as it can be said in any event and hold equal weight - which is to say it holds none.  If a person gets murdered or raped or turned into Donald Trump, by saying that one phrase that person is essentially saying that no matter how bad things just got for that person, it is okay.  Just get over it.  It is a complete lack of empathy for someone, presumably, they supposedly care about.

That touches upon a whole other danger of religion, but I will try to stay on track of faith for now. 

Then, of course, no one can possibly understand God's plan so don't even bother questioning that, either.  Yet another case where faith is a requirement as opposed to realizing that it is a societal issue.

The entire concept that we should go through our lives without questioning things is absolutely absurd.  The one thing that drives humanity, and has gotten humanity to the point we are currently at, is questioning things.  No one ever achieved anything by just putting faith into things getting better, or some magical all seeing spirit in the sky was watching over everything.  No, even when a religious person accomplished something it was because they made actions.

I can see all the religious screaming at their computer screens now about how it was God's will that they did whatever they did.  Yeah, and it was God's will that a girl got their drink spiked at a Brett Kavanaugh party, too.  It was also God's will that your Republican candidate is paying some male prostitute to fuck him in the ass, too, while his wife is at home crying herself to sleep because her husband won't include her.  Or is that one Satan accomplishing the impossible by defeating God's plan?  Only God knows, so just put your faith in him.  It definitely couldn't be because they like raping women or getting ass fucked.  A George Michaels song just popped into my head.

Praying is, perhaps, the most egregious example of faith.  If your all knowing, all powerful God has a plan for everything and everyone, what do you believe praying is going to do?  If he has a plan for everything then thanking him for doing whatever he was going to do anyway is not going to accomplish anything.  Praying as an effort to get him to change his mind for whatever his plan is, again, will do nothing because he has a plan.  That damn George Michaels song is haunting me for some reason.

More than anything else, though, faith just prevents people from taking responsibility for their own lives.  A person who believes something so completely as to disregard all evidence to the contrary means that they can justify anything action or outcome their heart and mind desire to justify. 

And now fucking Fred Durst had to go and ruin a perfectly good - alright, it was a pretty lame original, too - song.

-Dustin S. Stover

A Mildly Horrific Story

There was no frame of reference – like being in the void of space, only he felt gravity pulling him towards something.

His shoulder slams with too great a force into what feels like a cliff. His body bounces and spirals. The inertia makes him feel as though he is going to vomit, and he does, but there is no means for him to slow the spin now that his shoulder is dislocated, at best, and completely shattered if worse.

He feels his foot catch on something, but whatever that something is breaks and allows his fall to continue. His foot dangles without control, but at least he has stopped spinning.

A moment passes, just long enough of one for him to realize the excruciating pain he is in. He lets out a yell, a blood curdling scream from the bowels of his most miserable point of existence. The only comfort he received was hearing the echo of his own screams.

“This is a nightmare, it has to be,” he says aloud, but he knows that he feels it all. He knows, deep inside, that this is really happening.

He tries to recall the events that led to this tumultuous fall, which he realizes he is still in the midst of, but cannot remember anything before this point. It is as though his entire existence has never come to fruition and he is just living the journey into Hell.

A deep, boisterous howl of a voice comes from nowhere. “Now. Now is your time.”

As the voice finishes it's long bellow his body stops abruptly. His body slams into the most solid piece of anything that he has ever felt, and his whole body is destroyed. The pain is so intense that he can't even so much as whimper. The only point of relief is that he has stopped falling, but of course he can't even form enough of a thought to come to that realization.

Lying there, still absolute darkness and still in absolute pain, he can feel his heart beat start to slow – too slow, he thinks, but he is ready for death. He would be begging for it if he could form sounds.

A flicker of light forms in the distance, down a long hall that is now beginning to look like stone.

“Welcome,” the boisterous voice from before says from all around him.

A swarm of small creatures, half the size of a human – roughly the size of a child barely able to walk – pour into the room as the torch finally illuminates the room. He is surrounded by hundreds of the little things. Unable to turn his head, the one holding the torch walks to him.

The small creature, whose head is now looking down at him, is as black as the fall with what appears to be a gray ash covering his body sporadically. The creature looks back at the rest of the swarm, back at the man, back at the swarm, and then starts making a noise unlike anything the man has heard before. Before he knows it, every one of the swarm is on top of him, pulling the skin from his body and feasting.

The pain from before feels as though it had happened decades ago and this new pain sets in. The creatures' claws are all like dull, rusty knives cutting his skin away. His flesh rips away like cheap wrapping paper being cut by even cheaper scissors.

As the last piece of flesh had been devoured, the creatures scatter. As the light creeps down the hall, the man moves his eyes as much as he can to see nothing but exposed muscles – not a single piece of skin is left anywhere that he can see.

The booming voice enters his head once more, “Are you having fun, yet?”

The man just wants to cry, but nothing comes out. He wants to yell, but it all falls into silence.

The sound of rabid dogs strikes off in the distance. The howls are rushing towards the man. It sounds as though there are thousands of them, and they are very near.

There is no means for him to see what is happening as light never entered into the cavern, but a sudden slam of one of the dogs lands on his body followed swiftly by what feels like hundreds of teeth dig into his exposed muscle.

The first dog jumps down but immediately a second leaps atop him and takes it's chomp of muscle. He jumps down and the next. This agony continues for what feels like an eternity as the man still cannot make a single noise. He still cannot cry, and he cannot beg. The pain is, again, so intense that all his previous pain forces itself deep into the past.

As the final dog finishes his bite, it pauses and shifts its body. It then let's out a siren like howl before jumping down and leaving the man with nothing but the sound of hooves stampeding into the distance, but the man is entirely unable to hear anything any longer.

“How do you feel?” The voice booms into the man's mind again, but he is still unable to utter anything.

The room illuminates with the most intense light that anyone could imagine, but all that is left of the man are his organs and bones encasing them. His eyes dart around the room, but the light is blinding and nothing can be seen.

As his eyes adapt and he can finally see, dark, nearly see through, floating creatures flow towards him. He thinks about how it all must end at some point, it is his last form of hope.

The ghastly things hover over the remaining parts of his body, pulling each individual organ from the his skeleton. One of them positions his head so that he is forced to watch everything. His bones are shattered all around him, and what is still attached by the cartilage is cracked all over. Blood covers the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and the table in which he fell atop.

The ghosts each tilt what appears to be their heads towards the large hole in which the man fell from. As they do this, every organ – other than the brain – start turning black and shrivel into near nothing. There is no pain, but the man feels absolute disgust at the sight.

The ghosts vanish just as quickly as the light arrived, and his skull falls to the ground. The brain remains. He attempts to contemplate all that has happened to him, but nothing makes sense.

“I will give you the ability to speak to me now. What would you ask me?”

“Why are you killing me?”

“Oh, my dear son. This isn't death. This is life.”

-Dustin S. Stover


If you enjoy my writing then please purchase my collection of short stories, Happiness in a Void of Darkness.

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Theories on Work: Part Never-ending

There is a theory that humanity shifted it's focus on survival to a focus on pleasure, but I find this to be missing a major point.  While it may be true that humanity no longer has to struggle just to survive, and it may seem as though a focus on pleasure is the pinnacle of modern day societal norms there is a major mark about how miserable we all are throughout our normal lives.

We work day in and day out just to buy bullshit we don't need while living in houses and apartments that far exceed what we can afford to pay.  Out of a 24 hour day, if we spend 8 hours sleeping, that leaves 16 hours awake.  A typical work day is half that if you exclusively count hours on the clock but then you have to add the time it takes to get ready for work, the time it takes to drive to and from work, and the breaks you take that are off the clock. 

Let's say you're exceptionally quick to get ready for work and take a mere 10 minutes, but then it takes you 30 minutes to get to work.  That is already 40 additional minutes to your 8 hour work day.  Then an additional 30 minutes spent for your lunch break, which if you leave your job to get lunch will mostly be spent in your car driving to and from the location with, if you're lucky, half that time actually just sitting to eat.  After you clock out you have an additional 30 minute drive home.

So if we add all that together we get 9 hours and 40 minutes, which has now become your actual work day, which turns that 16 hour day into much closer to 6.

Next, there is dinner.  Preparing for dinner takes time, and then it has to be cooked.  By the time you can sit down and eat, another hour has passed, if not more.  That now leaves us with a mere 5 hours remaining of our day.

Of course, after spending so much time doing everything else, who wants to spend the remaining hours of their day leaving their house again to find something they enjoy?  That isn't even considering that those 5 hours are likely split between pre-work and post-work, which dependent upon how you split it could be dwindled down to a couple of hours.

Then there are the trips to the grocery store, picking up things you need that may have broke or worn out, taking care of the yard, cleaning the house, and all the other responsibilities brought on by being an adult.

Now typically, a person takes care of all their responsibilities on their off time, and this makes sense because they don't have time during work days. 

But that begs a question - where does a person's desire, hobbies, or interests fall in all this?  How does a person find something they enjoy?  How does a person find the time to discover themselves in all this mess?

Well, there is ultimately only 4 answers to this question:
1: They skip taking care of their responsibilities.
2: They skip work.
3: They skip sleep.
4: They don't.

The 4th answer is really the one I feel most people would find themselves in, but we all have to find a reason to continue our lives or else we'd all commit suicide.  So, how then, would one find a reason to continue their life?

I feel that the answer to that question should be answered in a later blog post.

As always, thanks for reading,
Dustin S. Stover




Also, if you find yourself interested in my writing and would like to help support me in continuing this endeavor, please be sure to click on the links below for the collection of short stories I have published.

Happiness in a Void of Darkness
Kindle
Nook