Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Blog Tools
Edit your Blog
Build a Blog
RSS Feed
View Profile
« November 2017 »
S M T W T F S
1 2 3 4
5 6 7 8 9 10 11
12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25
26 27 28 29 30
You are not logged in. Log in
Entries by Topic
All topics  «
shannnon
Wednesday, 30 August 2006
SHANNON PASSED 08-29-06 PLEASE READ FOR THE FUNERAL

 FOR ALL FRIENDS OF SHANNON the lord took him in his arms : On

Aug 29,2006 Shannon Thomas Wagoner passed in his sleep.I have

made the following funeral arrangements. For those of you that have

 not been called or emailed I am passing this information on. we will

be having graveside services on Friday Sept 1,2006 at 1:30 pm.I am

requesting in honor of shannon that there be no flowers.Shannon

was a simple person that would be honored just to have you say

your goodbyes.The address is: Camp Nelson National Cemetery

Nicholasville, Jessamine County, Kentucky 6980 Danville Road

Nicholasville, KY 40356 (606) 885-5727

 Amy  my id is bubbles_76_1998 on yahoo please feel free to leave a

message on my blog site


Posted by shannonwagoner at 11:00 PM EDT
Post Comment | View Comments (1) | Permalink
Thursday, 4 May 2006
a day off for illegals


Well the big day of protest about illegals has come and gone. For one day I could understand every one on the phone when I called for tech service. The side of the road was not cluttered with fruit sellers. I didn’t have to sift thru half a dozen languages walking thru Wal-Mart for once. English was every where. I think I need to rethink my standing on immigration and the illegal alien problems.

New immigrants are very important to America’s well being, but there is a huge difference between a legal immigrant and an illegal alien. I think even our standards for immigrants are way too lax. While American history would be a nice subject for immigrants to learn, it is not nearly as important as English. Speaking English well is the single most solid barrier stopping immigrants from intergrading into American society. We have more than enough problems with our school systems than stacking on top of it the need in many grades and classrooms for bilingual or even trilingual teachers. The school language problem is caused by the children having to use their parent’s language at home and then suddenly having to try to learn English once they enter school. While it is very important to be able to keep traditions from their home countries, this is not the main reason foreign languages are spoken at their homes; it is because they can not understand or speak English even remotely as well as their native language. With this single requirement of speaking eighth grade level English, it will rapidly open true access to the American dream and the reason they want to come here in the first place.

Now we come to the real problem, illegal aliens. Whether the crime is bank robbery, trespassing, D.U.I. or murder, people that commit crimes should serve the sentence for their crime. The judicial system was set up for this, to enforce the laws of the land. The legislature’s job is to make the laws of the land. Being in the United States with out having a green card or a passport is illegal and a crime. The protection of a country’s borders is paramount in protecting its soverntry. While we try to emotionalize the issue by placing gentle faces on the illegals, we miss the equally real illegals that are criminals both in their homeland and now in America, committing new atrocities, or even terrorists entering our country disguised as innocent illegals.

I think offering amnesty for a few that have been in the country for over a long period of time may not be fair, but they are apparently very good at avoiding detection, able to earn some kind of living, and not gotten caught at any other crimes. So why not let them stay only if they quickly sign up for a green card and show where they have been working, not to charge back taxes but so we know which companies to watch for the illegal practice of hiring illegals and nip that in the bud. Cutting off work opportunities may cause the illegal aliens to have to turn to crime to support themselves or their families, but then they can be easier to catch and get the heck out of dodge and back to their legal homeland.

One advantage of illegals always seems to be thrown out that they are willing to either do jobs most Americans would refuse to do or work for wages below what an American would be willing to accept. These are pretty much universally true and it is not fair to the illegals, but by being illegals they don’t have the rights or access to many of the protections Americans do enjoy. Housing rights and requirements can also be very sub par for illegals again with no real recourses available. They are actually an important part of our economy, but they would find being legal would afford them many advantages that can be very important.

We must guard our borders. South, north and the coasts all need to be watched for invaders wanting to enter and drug runners wanting to bring more poison to be placed on our streets. Of course I am not suggesting the average illegal immigrant is a coke mule, I would think really none are, but it is the open border policy we have been so plagued by. We have got to help our government clean up, both internally and in small town America. We have to bring the huge budget under control while weeding out the problems like illegal aliens and the common feeling in many places that it is too easy to enter the U.S. anytime; this thought has been taken to the level that we can expect people we export today to be back at their fruit stand or the day workers gathering point first thing the next day.

I wish I could throw out some simple fix it thoughts, but this subject while pee’s me off is way out on the fringe of my daily experiences. I have worked for foreigners that basically get a motel to start up their life in America, while thi9s kinda bites they get money and a self own business so easily, at least it is legal. Well them being in the U.S. at least, god knows I have seen them commit many shady deals even bordering or the definitely illegal, but whistle blowers don’t have high paying jobs for long and I have a super girl to keep in the good life.

One thing I think they should have is bank robber’s day, pedophile’s day, wife beater’s day, and maybe tree hugging liberal’s day. On each of these days round up these bad people and give them what they deserve.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 2:05 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Wednesday, 3 May 2006
do we really kmow jesus the man?


A few questions about the life and times of Jesus always seem to scare people. The question if Jesus was married is one of the leading questions that appear to bother people the most. While the fictional book ‘The Da Vinci Code’ takes a swipe at this subject, a lot of its ‘facts’ have already been proven false. While this attempt at a married Jesus falls through as hollow fiction, that does not mean he wasn’t married. There is no sin in getting married and having sex with your wife. So why do we fear a married Jesus in Christianity?

Does seeing Jesus as a husband make him too human? Well, he was human after all, the son of God, but human none the less. The Savior’s humanity was the whole point of his birth, life, and death, as well as his resurrection. He was a man born without original sin, and he could still lead a life in perfection, fighting off all the vices and temptations we also feel. He became the sacrificial lamb for all our sins. While being perfect, I am sure he was a good Jewish man as well, and Jewish men of the time were expected to be married by their twenties and have children as soon as possible. Our addiction of relating sex with sin has just gone too far. Sex before marriage or with some one other than your spouse is a sin, but sex with your wife is not. Lusting after some one you can not have sex with is also a sin, so we can know Jesus would not have had sex before he was married, cheated on his wife, or let his eyes wonder over any other women.

Another seeming thorn in the Christian side is Judas. I can’t understand why Judas is always depicted as the greatest villain of the New Testament and seemingly hated by all. He did betray Jesus to the Romans, but by some accounts that have recently surfaced Jesus may have asked him to do this. Even without that questionable request, someone had to betray Jesus to be crucified to fulfill all of the Old Testament prophesies. The facts remain in the bible that after the crusification, Judas went back to the temple and returned the thirty pieces of silver that was his reward. The story then gets vague whether he hung himself or was hung to be kept quiet about who paid him to betray the Christ. I believe Judas was murdered after he repented the betrayal, and that would make him a great example of God’s forgiveness when we repent of sins and then God forgives them. I have no doubt Judas has made it to heaven.

I also have to wonder what skin complexion Jesus was and what effect that would have of churches and people’s faith. Most of the churches I have been to seem to either think or just like to advertise that Jesus was white, but was he? Does it even matter? Some, yes definitely some, to the white power people that are so worried about the mud races, how can they worship Jesus, not even thinking about how their ideology is totally out of sync with the teachings of Christ. Just the fact that Jesus is from one of these so called mud races, how do they stand it or do they even comprehend it?

I have watched churches shatter over the most trivial of issues and now we have hundreds of thousands of churches all claiming to be teaching the bible and all believing they are right. Once a church starts making rules that are no part of God’s teachings, doesn’t that make them more secular than spiritual? Churches are more worried about staying in the black on their accounting than they seem to worry about the truth of their teachings and the effect they truly are having on their congregation and community.

With all these churches teaching their own brands of religions, what is going to happen when Christ returns? What are these Christians going to do when they are truly faced with the minions of Satan? When Christianity started out, it was a life and death choice. If you were caught practicing the worshiping of Jesus, you were tortured, jailed, or killed. Today I see people getting mad and leaving a church because the Easter decorations are more purple than yellow or because the music at bingo night is too much like rock and roll, and well, the list goes on and gets even more ridiculous. If you are going to let trivial matters like these affect or even stop your worshiping, you need to take some time out. Clear your life of distractions, read the bible through and through a few time, start researching some of the missing books from the bible and learn some of what is not taught in this country.

Finally I see all these people loving to play with astrology and with psychic palm readers. I think the bible is pretty clear on the fact that if these are not from god then they are from the devil. There is no grey area here. What you may think is just mild entertainment is the slow decay of your morals and your defenses from the things that will attack and wear on you. You have to remember from our birth until our death we are in a war; there is no middle ground, no neutral zone, and no time out. You must remember in everything you do and everything you think you are either serving and honoring God or you are serving and honoring Satan. It is time to get real and choose sides while we still have a choice.


Posted by shannonwagoner at 9:29 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
why are there terrorists?

We hear the word terrorist on an almost daily basis since 9-11 thru the news services. Where do these terrorists come from? Are terrorists following a definite purpose, being produced from a central location or are they simply mentally deranged individuals. I believe all three are producing their own share of terrorists. Many terrorist follow a purpose from some group’s ideology, while not directly trained as a terrorist army, they know who their group is fighting against and can launch their own attacks. Some terrorists just are not quite right to begin with but they feel a connection to a group or just want to hurt or kill people so they get their 15 minutes of shame and maybe they even believe they can get away with it.

Many groups today employ terrorism as a tool for their cause. Whether it is a hate group, a militia, a rebel faction group, or a “lone” extremist; most of these group follow a general process to properly employ terrorism. The terrorist groups need to acquire assets, arm and then separate, then select a target and act, and finally access the result and start the cycle over again.

Acquiring assets for the group’s or person’s cause can entail stealing, earning, or receiving donations from sympathetic people or governments. The acquired assets then usually need to be either converted into item that will be used for the cause or changed into a portable asset for quick escapes. Also in this stage, the groups will start their public relations efforts to try to win support for their cause, this could be as easy as flyers passed out, members talking to friends, members starting conversations on the internet explaining their cause, or even as extensive as using the media to exploit action of the “enemy” to bring sympathy towards their cause.

Right before the terrorist act is finallized and set into motion, the group will then usually try to self impose isolationalism. This allows many members to go underground and avoid repercussions from the groups’ activities. While some are becoming ghost or planted to when they need to be to spring their attack, other members will attempt to draw either the most press to get from the public in their favor, or will try to draw as little as possible depending which will help them the most. If they are an extremist group, they usually try to avoid all media contact so that public outcry won’t hurt their cause.

The terrorist act can be just about anything; bombing, biological attacks, nuclear or dirty bombs, verbal threats, hostages, protests (usually violent and illegal), or other illegal acts. Whether it is on a local, national, or international level, it is not the size of the act that carries the weight of importance, but its horror must be felt both deeply by the public and on a large scale for it to have the desired effect. The key of any terrorist act is the fear factor; the deep fear of it happening again or something far worse. The belief the terrorist group will be more than willing to do what ever they can to win their aims gives the terrorists their power.

The results of the act(s) do vary. We can look 230 years in the past and see one group who’s acts started a revolution that began our country, a couple hundred years ago when our government committed genocide by using germ warfare against an Indian tribe, or another group that split off from the United States about 140 years ago starting the Civil War in which they had their ideology lost. The history of each act will be written by the winners, and thrown into what ever light they choose to shine onto it.

Recently, the United States had to go back to the Gulf war and finish the job because, among other things, it was shown that terrorists were being trained by this government for other groups and governments to attack the United States and its allies. With this type of centralized training facility one group can help other groups handle technology they normally could not afford, coordinate plans on a scale they could not accomplish, and be given plans and idea that they would not be able to originate on their own.

There can be a worst possible result of a terrorist action than what is intended; anarchism. Anarchism occurs when neither the political party targeted or the organization targeting them holds power after the terrorism act. In this scenario, a third party could take advantage and the control from the weakened parties. Depending on who is the final victor, the terrorist can become a hero or a villain. Only time will tell.

The easiest way for America to stop terrorism in its track is to have a plainly state policy and to carry it out religiously every time. If we have a simple retribution scale; destroy 1 building we destroy 20 of yours, kill any American domestic or abroad and we will kill 100 of your citizens, launch a major attack and we’ll destroy your country (I would say nuke it to a parking lot). This policy would be hard to get thru congress, but once thru and once every one knows for sure that we are serious; we would never fear terrorism again.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 10:17 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Monday, 1 May 2006
mini-vacation
It looks like this week is going to be a busy one at best. The dogs have to go to the vet for a check up, then I have 2 meeting I can’t avoid, and then Amy wants to take a day trip as a nice stress reliever. I think we will need after this week full of so much fun.

Also I will take a few days off of writing towards the end of the week as well, have let some chores get behind and have extra work I can do this weekend so gotta dig in and chain up my muse for a few days, but don’t worry, I’ll post a few more stories before I take my break.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 1:09 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Sunday, 30 April 2006
The Seedship

As mankind further exhausts the resources on earth, wars and famine broke out rendering many parts of the world and its people infertile and desolate. The few technological bastions were beginning to feel their foundations wear away. Many plans were formulated to save the planets or save mankind. Moon colonies, terraforming Mars, mining communities in the asteroid belt, and seed ship leaving the solar system were some of the more radical ideas. Of all these ideas, the seed ships gave us a good failsafe program so if all the intra-solar system plans fails, mankind would still have a chance to live on.

The seed ships use a combination of technologies for their journey to other star systems. The ships are built and stocked in orbit to conserve or resources for launching the craft. The seed ships use a solar sail to start their out bound journey, but to quickly increase speed to nearly a tenth the speed of light a space based laser give the ship the needed starting boost. Once the ship is moving, it uses a ram scoop to capture both fissionable material and fuel to burn once the solar power to the sail drops off.

While several dozen seed ships were in various stages of assembly, only seven had been launched and five had made it out of the solar system. Ark 4 ran into problems at the asteroid belt, an unexpected collision sent many asteroid particles thru the solar sail. Ark 16 only got as far out as Mars’ orbit before a solar ejection event sent a strong enough EM pulse to scramble some of their computer software. Rather than repair and continue with a deficiency in spare parts, the mission was delayed for a re-supply flight to refit the downed components.

My ship was in its final shake down tests, while I was finishing my training. I was to be basically a human babysitter for the computer controlled exploration for a habitable planet. My brain and spine had been disconnected from the rest of my body for almost two years now. I have learned to use small repair robots as my appendages and computer systems as my internal processes. The ship almost becomes my new body. With the shedding of my old body, I can live long enough to see the mission to fruitation and space for my personal needs is so minimal it really cuts down on the ship size and therefore resources to move and run it.

Loading and hooking me up to my new home takes a couple of days. The final sets of frozen embryos and cryogenically preserved babies are stored in the central core of the ship for maximum protection from space radiation. Mission control gives me the final approval for countdown.

My adventure begins. The trip thru the solar system is very uneventful. I launch a few probes so scientists back home can gather new data on livability of the outer planets and their moons. It is just another fuel saving hook for the mission to reduce the strain Earth’s dwindling resources and allow further exploration of the system. I close and stow the solar sail by the time I reach the second asteroid belt and begin scooping more than enough fuel to maintain speed and minor adjustments to trajectory. I also store the excess so if resource availability thin out between the solar systems I have plenty of fuel for course correction. The absence of gravity allows my ship to nearly maintain a constant speed, but things show up in my path and maneuverability takes fuel.

The 26 light year trip should have taken 285 years for me to arrive in an Earth distance rotation around the sun, but before I had entered the outer solar system my scanners and optics only picked up one huge gas giant with no visible moons. I dropped 20 probes with various courses to send plenty of data back to Earth or what is left of it. The farther I get the longer it takes for a reply to each broadcast I send. I do receive a regular feed on information but they are almost two decades out of sync. I unfurl my solar sail so I can make a course change that will take me to a secondary target. If my luck is bad again, I won’t have enough life to make an attempt on a third system. The last target would be back to Sol where another pilot could be loaded and if they are lucky new star drives installed to speed this process up.

The hull repairs are starting to tax the repair stores. I think I have worked out a way the material scooped could be sorted for metals, radioactives, and simple materials to be used for fuel. Of course it’ll be nearly forty years before I can find out if this has been done or would be useful in current ship configurations. The loneliness is starting to wear on me more than I thought it would. I have exhausted the book archive so I have activated a few artificial intelligence programs to simulate people for me to interact with.

The time to the next star system passed with relative ease. The repair stores did hold out with some to spare. I am almost scared to scan the new system, but this is my last chance to farther a new human colony. The reports look great; there are two planets in the estimated habitable zone and both are showing signs of surface water. This system has six planets with the second and third as my targets. Once I get closer I will see which has the highest chance of being Earth-like and land on that one. Every few months I launch a probe to check different areas so the system will be nearly fully explored by the time the colony has gotten on its feet.

The second planet proves to be the best bet. I am not detecting any life signs and no moon. I will have to stop at the planetoid belt and try to tow in a small moonlet. It’s going to triple the last leg of my voyage, but I do have the time and the need is definitely there. The onboard computer system seems to be having trouble adjusting my approach to set the moon into its proper stable orbit. I am deleting my virtual friends and erasing all nonessential news feeds from earth to free up more room.

I am counting down the days of my last year in space. The computer has finished the calculations and I have gotten the ships course set for moon delivery, orbit, and finally landing on our new home. The moon is now set in its new orbit, and I am just minutes away from planet fall. I send a final broadcast to earth and leave a probe in orbit incase something happens on the final action of the mission.

The landing went perfectly. I have started the maternity machine and all the cryogenically preserved human babies can be brought back to life and begin growing. The repair robots have disassembled path of the ship and have created food processing plants. Food will be grown, preserved and stored so when the babies begin adolescence they will have plenty of food. After the food plant is finished more of the ship is used to create shelters for the new community. All that is left of the ship now is my enclosure and the maternity machine enclosure.

The children are learning many things thru the education files I was set here with. I get to be almost a teacher, well more like a teacher’s aide, but it is so good interacting with people. I wait till the children are eight years old before unfreezing the wild animal babies, and releasing them to the open world. When the children then reach 15 then I will unfreeze the livestock and introduce them to the colony. They have started farming the land and herding the animals.

The children couple up as they see fit and now I have a new group of children to teach and watch grow. I am noticing changes in how I feel and my ability to operate what’s left of the ship. I teach a few of the colonists how to operate the repair robots and others I show how to run the maternity machinery. We still have thousands of frozen embryos that can slowly be introduced to ensure genetic diversity in the colony.

We have not received any feeds or replies from earth or any of the sol intra system colonies. So I have stopped using the tight laser communication and switched to a radio wave broadcaster. We have not received a reply but it could take decades.

My final act was to disengage myself from the majority of the computer system so the teaching files can still be played and taught to the children after I have gone. I have just one last task I would like to do before I finally cease to function. I want to write all I remember of the home world and our journey here. The thoughts I have had and the feelings I want to share and be remembered for.

My time is coming to an end but the colony I brought here and helped to start is expanding and has already started a seed colony. I think we are going to be ok, at least for now.


Posted by shannonwagoner at 11:06 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
20 Years After Chernobyl

What effects are still being felt by the world’s worst nuclear disaster? In the Ukraine the 18 square miles of still closed of land near the reactor still is too high for human life, call the exclusion zone. Very few people still have to go into this area for short times to do various repair and upkeep of facilities in this area as well as periodical countermeasures to help clean up the radioactive materials.

The health effects have been estimated that at the very least 9,000 deaths will be directly linked to Chernobyl. Presently, 4,000 local children have developed thyroid cancer from the radioactive iodine that was released; many of these children hadn’t even been born at the time of the accident. Also during the fire at the Unit 4 reactor continued to burn for 10 days, a cloud of radioactive debris was released into the atmosphere and contaminated a much larger area, including a lot of Europe.

As the radiation levels keep getting lower by either natural environmental effect or the countermeasures the government are still using, the priority should be decommissioning and total destruction of the Unit 4 reactor and the total removal of all the nuclear waste.

The dealing with this disaster has given the environmentalists plenty of fodder for launching wild volleys against the use of nuclear power as a safe alternative to fossil fuel powered generators or even burning coal and wood.

While I am in total support of using renewable alternative power where it is feasible, I am also a strong supporter of nuclear plants to supplement our needs. In a perfect world alternative methods like wind, hydro, geothermal, and solar would be able to completely fill our needs, but in the real world present, these methods still fall short of producing our total need.

With one accident at Chernobyl and one close call at Three Mile Island, the safety track record of nuclear power is very good. If we used this rule, for example that say 10,000 people’s earlier deaths were blamed on Chernobyl and the waste from the accident still has 18 square miles quarantined land. We would have to ban cars since they kill far more than 10,000 people per year and their waste can easily take 18 square miles, especially when just considering tire and battery waste with out talking the environmental cost of the exhausted, leaking fluids, and direct damage to the environment from crashes such as fire or destroying decade old trees that help fight soil erosion.

While electric cars are still outside common use and affordability and since some electricity is still generated from oil, wood, and coal; all an e-car would do right now is diffuse the pollution production from the highways and the cities to the rural areas where the plants are. The hybrid car is a nice adjustment between the e-car and our current high pollution cars, but they only reduce pollution to some degree, I believe I have seen 20-25% reduction, while is small still is a step in the right direction. While this line of thinking may make cars seem less like they need to be banned right now due to pollution because we are moving towards a clean running car, well the big surprise is, as soon as we fully develop cold fusion, nuclear reactors will also produce virtually no wastes.

Again, even with a clean running nuclear power plants, I would still rather see all our power produced from solar, geothermal, hydro, wind, or even wave. These natural power producers will be best for planet based power; while nuclear will definitely be helpful in space and when we first begin terraforrming planets.

I would like to see roofs covered with solar panels, I would like to see water gutter systems, water drains, and even sewage pipes have small turbines added so even waste water helps produce some power on its way to be recycled, I would like to see every high tension power transmitting tower with a wind generator on them-at that height the wind would be more constant and faster than ground level, I would like to see exercise bicycles fitted with generators-as we become more fit we help produce a clean power, I would like to see bicycles replace cars-for short distance rides during good weather, I would like to see all trash sorted and recycled-glass and plastic can be reused and burnable trash can be burned to produce power and then the ash used for fertilizer to replace what we rob from the land, I would like to see Third World Countries given the infrastructure to greatly reduce their polluting ways, I would like to see all the above done with out placing the weight of the financial burden on the common man, but on all the countries of the world-giving man a home for centuries to come rather than our currently short time table.



Posted by shannonwagoner at 12:22 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Saturday, 29 April 2006
The Delivery Boy

As the large cheese and meat pizza creeps out the conveyer of the large oven, a young man in a funny little uniform starts pouring over a large map looking for an obscure street that had been just recently named. "Pizza up" is yelled loudly causing the delivery boy to involuntarily flinch. His time is up. He then grabs the pizza, throwing it into the thermal, as he runs out the door to a rust ridden, paint faded, small vehicle. Ignition, lights, take off. The boy hurls his car into traffic trying to make his deadline. He sees a side road to pass up some of the jam ahead. Whipping around a hairpin turn, he barely misses sideswiping a camaro, as he approaches a new main flow street. As tires screech, he's back into the fast lane in a cloud of rubber smoke. He spots the alley he needs. He first shifts lanes, then by slamming on his brakes as he throws the wheel into the turn, he stomps the accelerator shooting the car down the alley with little loss of speed. Closely watching the sequential flow of house numbers, he sees his target, dead ahead. In a screech of brakes, he darts to the door where he rapidly raps on the door frames, stirring the occupant's hunger and bodies. Pocketing the payment and his meager tip, he starts the adventure back to home base. Scattering oncoming traffic as he shoots towards his new goal, ready to start the process over again.


Posted by shannonwagoner at 10:01 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Thursday, 27 April 2006
The love bird friends
The spring and love has sprung

It is a new season; spring. Love is in the air, and the birds and the bees are busy. We have had a couple of friends starting to feel the effect of the season. The late night chats on the phone or the early morning IM’s. Vibrator batteries going dead and getting replaced, cell phone minutes running out, and trucks sitting in parking lots slowly rocking while it’s pulled into the self serve pump at the gas station of love.

The pair feeling the teen angst of waiting for the first date. The face to face meeting and the kisses and hugs that are bound to follow. Feelings growing like beautiful flowers in a well tended garden. Tenderness growing and deepening as feeling explode like the hormones that are following.

A touch, a tease, a loving embrace. A late night rendezvous when love is consummated. Heavy breathing, soaked in sweat and other fluids, passion spent finally. Love deepening, embraces following, hugging until sleep takes the couple into its embrace for the most restful sleep they have ever had.

Just remember to thank the cupid that thought you two would be so good together. Be glad we are right so much of the time. We love you and wish all the best for you. Enjoy the love, the friendship, the companionship. Enjoy everything together and share everything all the time. It’s always nice to see two people come together that deserve each other and the happiness that will follow.

Love hard, love long, love well.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 8:04 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
The Dream of Being a Writer. pt 4 of 4
Metropolitan life and death.


I could feel the hate burning inside me. Growing with each passing day; growing with each crime I commit. Ever since I was attacked, I could not stop the voices in my head from trying to take control. I had hoped that I could stop them, but now I know I can not. I gave over my will to the beast that raged inside me. I started driving towards a metropolitan area, a place where killings can go unnoticed for some time. I stopped at a few yard sales along the way and bought a few handguns. I waited for a while until I bought the ammo for them. About 50 miles till the city I stopped at a rest stop. Saw a young man working on his car. He would start it and not like what it sounded like and then tinker a little more. The car was an awful looking wreck. I thought it had more rust than paint on it, but the young fellow sure thought it was nice. I approached him and asked about his car. He told a long story about how hard he had work and how little he got for his money. I then told him a sad story about buying this bike for an ex-boyfriend the day he broke up with me and how I kept the bike out of spite, but now wanted to get rid of it because the wind and the rain were too much for me. I then asked if he knew any of his friends that would want to trade a car for my bike. He said not off hand but he wished his car was in better shape because he loves motorcycles. In the next few minutes, the boy had a motorcycle and I had my junk loaded in the back of the car and was back on the road for the city.

The car lasted into town. I doubt it would last much farther, but that was ok. I did not plan to leave this city. I left most of my gear locked in the car. I then went down to the subway. It was almost dark I road around for a while. Got a feel for how long it was between stops and which stops were crowded and which were not. There were three stops that ended above ground, on platforms above the street. These platforms were always deserted. After midnight, the subway was almost totally deserted. I went to the last car and waited. Finally, everything timed out right. There was a single man in the car and I could not see anyone in the next car. The man looked at me on occasion. I started smiling at him. He must have been bar hopping because he did not think it at all strange that I would flirt with him in this way.

We just pulled out of the station on a stop before a platform; I had two minutes to make my move. With one hand, I began to run my crotch with my legs spread wide open; the other hand beckoned the man to me. He came willingly. When he was about six feet away I dropped my beckoning hand to my purse and pulled the pistol out. It was a .22 so would not make much noise. As the brakes started to stop the train, I fired into the man’s chest. He fell to the floor with out making a sound. I got up, went to the door, and exited the train. The platform was deserted. I loaded the pistol and walked down the stairs to the street.

I was in the middle of a neighborhood. It was very dark and the buildings and street looked very dingy. I think I should have planned better with where I was getting off at as well. I walked through the streets zigzagging on occasion. I walked down a narrow alley. A man was going thru the trash until he saw me. He then turned his attentions to me. I stood cowered until he was close enough then I shot him. I was getting good using this gun, but I would have to discard it soon or they could connect a few of the slaying to me. I saw a gang hanging out on the street corner, and being this late, they cat called towards me. I saw an entrance to a subway not ten feet away. I shouted an obscenity at the youths and threw the gun towards them. I knew they would think they scared me so bad I lost my gun and they would keep the souvenir, at least that was what I was counting on. I took the subway to within twenty blocks of my car. I walked the rest of the way. I fell asleep in the car until it got too hot the next day.

I placed another gun in my purse and took a small duffel bag of clothes with me. I stopped at a fast food restaurant and got a burger and fries. After I ate I went into the bathroom, wet a wash cloth, went into a stall, and then cleaned up a little and changed my clothes. I dropped the duffel at the car and went to a park. I sat for an hour and watched the children play. I decided to go back to my car and get my drawing equipment. I returned to the park and drew the scenery for a while, but then I started drawing death scenes again. I stopped drawing. I returned all my drawing to the car and got a pocketknife.


I walked towards the center of the city. I saw a side road to my left and several neon signs on in the daytime. I walked down the street to see what they were. I had found the red light district. I walked into the first porn shop that advertised quarter movies. I walked past several booths and saw many had holes cut into the wall. I entered on that had both doors closed on either side. I put a quarter in the slot and a movie started showing on the small screen. I bent over and looked thru the hole. A man was in the next booth stroking himself. When he saw some one was next to him, he stuck his cock thru the peephole. At first, I did not know what to do. I knew that if I waited too long he would remove himself. I started to stroke him with one hand while reaching in my purse with the other. I took out my knife and cut him flush with the wall removing most of his penis. He made a small yell and must have passed out from the sound next door. I left the room quickly and left the building. The noise he made could have been mistaken for an orgasm, if I were lucky.

I tossed the knife into a storm drain three or four blocks away. I noticed I had a couple drops of blood on my hand. I pocketed the hand and went into a bar. I went straight to the restroom and washed the blood off. I returned to the bar and ordered a wine cooler. When I was half way thru it, a man came up to me and tried to pick me up. He said he knew a hotel where we could get a room for a few hours and talk. I agreed to go with him. He bought a bottle of wine before we left the bar.

The motel was only three doors down from the bar. He rented a room for six hours and put it on a credit card. We went up to the room. He was trying his best to talk me out of my pants. Once in the room, I asked him to undress. He was more than willing to comply. Then I sat on a chair, took off my shoes and asked him to massage my feet. Once he started rubbing them with his hands, I told him I wanted him to massage them with his tongue. He bent over and started to lick them. I picked up the full bottle of wine and hit him across the crown of his head. I took a small knife and shredded his shirt into small strips to tie his arms and legs. I then took his pants and made a nice gag for him.

I called the front desk, asked how much it would be to keep the room for the rest of the night, and then asked if they could just put the balance on the credit card. After that was taken care of, I laid down on the bed. It had been a few days since I was able to get a good night’s rest.

A few hours later I could hear the man start to stir. I opened my eyes and watched him as he realized he was bound and gagged. I could see the fear in his eyes once I picked up the knife. I could feel my demon wanting blood, but no quick kill this time. I could start to see many ways to torture some one. I started leaving small cuts over his body. The blood oozed out slowly. He struggled to get free, but the more he tried, the worse I would hurt him. After an hour of sawing into his flesh, I decided I was bored. I took his belt, wrapped it around his neck, rolled him over on his stomach, and pulled the belt as tight as I could. He could still breathe just enough to survive so I stood on his back and leaned all my weight pulling away from him. This time it was enough.

I left the room and walked a few blocks. I was still tired. I saw a mall and decided to walk around inside it for a while. I stopped at an electronics store and saw a big screen TV on display. I watched it for a few minutes since the news was on. I saw a short clip of me in the porn store with a story that police were on the look out for me. They wanted to question me about an attack that occurred while I was in the area. I started to head for the door, but another customer blocked my exit. He identified himself as a police officer and caught me by the wrist. I tried to pull away but the man was too strong for me. He took me back to the store’s office where he cuffed me and read me my rights. He made a phone call and in a few minutes some uniformed policemen came to take me away.

The porn shop had me on film entering and leaving the booth, and the police connected me to the man in the motel. They traced my bike to the boy had traded it to and then found the car I was using. I was rather stupid to have saved the crossbow and have some of the bb’s and gunpowder left. Those crimes were added to my indictment. The trial was short. The doctor that had saved me after my rape and beating had shown up in court to tell of how he thought this had started. I think he would have made a great difference if the jury had not known about the interstate bombings and met a few of the survivors and the families of those that had not survived.

I was sentenced to death, and have been on death row for over a year. My time is almost here. I wanted to write down what I had down and why so that those who did not know what I had done to them could know that I was the one that hurt their family or friends. I hope these people can put their demons to rest before they start talking to them.

My last meal is arriving. I end my story here. I will eat, be prayed over, and then I will die. I regret what I have done, but I am glad it is over and the voices will finally shut up!

Posted by shannonwagoner at 7:47 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Wednesday, 26 April 2006
The Dream of Being a Writer. pt 3 of 4
The Killings Begin.


The voices have become so strong and demanding, I am not sure when they are in control or I am. My life has become like a clouded dream, I just continue to float along and hope some where I will wake up with my sanity intact.

I left the motel after dark and walked around. The town was very small and almost no one was around. I saw a man nearly passed out sitting by some trashcans. When I passed him, he asked me for some money. I walked away. The feeling came back over me again, eating away at my morals worse than any cancer could eat a body. I walked to a gas station and bought a bottle of iodine. I then went to a liquor store and bought a bottle of cheap wine and a hip flask of whiskey. I walked a ways and then stopped. I opened the bottle of wine and took a good swig out of it. I refilled the bottle with the iodine, wiped off all my fingerprints, and carefully slid it back down into the brown paper bag.

Before the hotel came into sight, I saw the man in the same spot. I handed him the bottle and told him that drinking would kill him. He laughed and said he liked it too much. I turned away and walked back to the motel. As soon as I was in my room I downed most of the whiskey and passed out on the bed before I could finish the little bottle.

I woke the next day with an awful hangover, but the voices were back and they were screaming mad. I left the motel and went to a small filing station. I gassed my bike and bought a 32-ounce bottle of v-8 juice. I sipped it and put the bottle in a pouch on my handlebars. I would only be able to drink it when I stopped, but with the way, my head felt I would need it. I passed by the spot where an ambulance was loading the drunk’s body. He was covered so I assumed the poison worked. I pulled into the diner across the road from them. I ordered breakfast and asked the waitress what happened. She said a bum must have drunk himself to death. I ate my breakfast, paid, and left. I drove back to the interstate. I did not want to be near this town. What ever the voices did to trigger my new killing instinct; I wanted to get away from here before it struck again.

I drove along the interstate for several hours, but the traffic started to bother me increasingly. I felt like every car was watching me. I took an exit that led to a scenic roadway. It would be slower driving this way but I would not encounter as many cars. I stopped late in the after noon at a small town. I looked at a few pawnshops. I thought about buying a pistol but decided against it since the noise it produces would make me traceable. I still had my key chain guns, but it would only be usable once in an encounter. I drove to the next town and checked into a little flophouse. It was cheap and I got my money’s worth.

That night, the voices began to bother me again, louder and more intense than ever. I decided I needed a walk. I walked around the town for almost an hour. I saw no one on the street. I started looking at the houses. I saw a house with a ground floor window left wide open. After a quick look around, I walked thru the yard to the side of the house where the window was. It was into the house’s dining room. I could not hear any sounds coming from with in. I decided to climb in the window. In the next room I saw a knife drying near the kitchen sink in a dish rack. I got a rag out of the sink, rang it out, and pick the knife up with it. It was about 6 inches long and probably made the families sandwiches tonight.

I walked carefully thru the house since it was a little cluttered. The house only had one bedroom left; the other had been converted to a sewing or craft room. I stopped at the bedroom door and waited. I could only hear one person’s breathing inside. I could make out most shapes in the room, but not enough to do what I wanted to do. I went back to the kitchen and started searching. I found a small stash of cash in a jar in the kitchen. I pocketed the money and kept on looking. I found a box of matches, but decided I needed a flashlight more. I found the flashlight by the washer in the utility porch. I walked back to the bedroom and began the slow walk to the bedside. I could almost make out the person’s features. They had long hair with a white glow to it, so I assumed it was an elderly lady.

A clock struck two in the living room. The noise startled me and the woman must have heard my surprise. She began to stir. I flashed the light in her face and ran the knife thru her throat before she could even scream. I listened as the blood flowed gurgling into her lung. Her motions stopped quickly. I gathered up all the blankets around the bed and placed then in a pile on her. I walked over to her closet, took out all her clothes, and placed those around the bed. I then lit a match from her matchbook and tried lighting the blanket on fire. The blanket did not seem to want to burn. After 3 matches I took the blanket off the bed and got one of the lady’s shirts. It lit rapidly. The flames started to spread over her bed. As I was leaving, I could start to smell the stench of human flesh burning.

I left the house and walked back to my room. Since I did not get any pictures this time, I stayed up until nearly morning drawing what I could remember of the woman, her house, and the fire. I slept thru dawn and till check out with out any more voices or dreams. When I woke the next day, I felt better than I had since the rape. I packed, dressed, and went straight for the road. I wanted to drive by the house before I left but thought it would be too much of a risk.

Feeling the wind on my hair felt good. At lunchtime, I stopped in a town. I went to a small store and bought some donuts and a few sweet cakes, and I found in the medicine isle a few bottles of iodine, 5 mercury thermometers, and a box of straight pins. I then went to a sportsman’s shop and bought a large bottle of black powder, a long tire iron, a milk carton containing five thousand bb’s, a box of shells for my key chain, and a sling shot with two dozen large lead balls. I then went to a hardware store and bought a box of one thousand large head one-inch nails and a pack of shop towels. I made a final stop at a grocery and gas station after filling up my bike I got a twelve pack of bottled beer. I drove out of the town and on to the next.

I drove thru this town until I found a park with three kids in it and no adults around. I took the sweet cakes and poured a bottle of iodine into 6 of them. I walked thru the open area, walked up to the children, and started to talk with them. I asked them a couple of questions about the area playing the part of a tourist. I offered them the cakes for being so nice to help me. They ate the cakes and I left the park and drove off.

I spent the rest of the day driving down the back roads. I finally found the interstate near dark. I decided I should be out of the state before settling down for the night. About seven miles past the state line I found an exit with a small motel. I got a room there and fell asleep before I was forced to take my nightly walk. The next morning I started to get excited when I thought maybe it was over, but then I realized that I had already killed that day. I took out the nails and practiced throwing them. Every nail would land with the point facing up. These were perfect. I took a hand full and placed them in my jacket pocket. I finished packing and headed out for the road.

I drove thru the state and about fourteen miles from the state line I waited until I could see no cars around and I threw out some of the nails. I left about five patches of the nails when I crossed the state line. My pocket was empty. I took the first exit, left the interstate, and immediately reentered it going the opposite direction. I drove for an hour until I came back to where the interstate crossed another. I took the other interstate and headed out of the state.

I drove until late afternoon. I stopped in a midsize town for the night. The first three motels I tried to check into were full. The fourth had just a few rooms left because of a convention in town. I felt my monster start talking to me some more. The voice was hungry. I rested for about two hours before tonight’s business came.

I woke and dressed quickly. I put on a light jacket although the evening air could not be below sixty degrees. I took the tire iron and placed it into the sleeve of the jacket. I could not bend that arm much but after practicing donning and doffing the jacket a few times, I could almost perfectly conceal the tire iron. I left my room and walked a few blocks to a bar near one of the full motels. I ordered a drink, sat, and waited. I was rewarded soon with an older man that already had drunk way too much. I let him flirt with me for a few minutes and pretended to enjoy both his company and his advances. He suggested we go back to his room and talk where it was a little quieter. I got my jacket and left with him. He kept putting his hands on me as we went up to his room. I could not wait to reward his advances soon enough.

He opened the door and turned on the light. I walked in and told him I was through talking and wanted a little action. His mouth dropped and he was more than amenable to my idea. I told him to remove his clothes and then lie on the bed. He did and I walked over to him. I brought my left hand up to start unbuttoning my jacket while my right let the tire jack slide down into it beside my leg. By the third button on the jacket I was swinging the tire iron and struck the man in the forehead. His eyes had crossed but remained open. I look out a knife and opened a slit across his throat to ensure his death. I picked up his pants and looked thru them. He had several hundred dollars in his wallet. I pocketed the money and put the do not disturb sign on the door as I left.

I went to two more bars near the other motels and repeated the killings. I checked out of my motel before dawn and left the town. I stopped for gas near noon and bought a small two gallon plastic container that would fit in my saddlebags and filled it with gas as well. Once back onto the road I saw a passenger train track running near the interstate. The next town I left the interstate and bought a wood splitting axe. I stayed on the interstate long enough to reach the next exit and started driving a back road that closely paralleled the tracks. When I was sure it was a little traveled road I drove until I found a spot that was out of any house’s sights, but near a train bridge. I had read during the civil war people would place axes on train tracks and derail them. I thought it would be interesting to see if a derailed train would fall into the gully. After the axe was wedged in and set, I left the way I came and caught the interstate again.

I drove for a few hours and saw one of the state parks I had stayed at early in my trip. I pulled off and went to the picnic area. I got the empty beer bottles, the bb’s, the black powder, the box of straight pins, and some shop towels out of my saddlebags. I evenly distributed the bb’s to all the glass bottles and then covered them with almost an inch of black powder before that ran out. I placed the empty bb’s carton in one trashcan, and the black powder container in another at a different picnic table. I then put the straight pins in each of the bottles. I thew the plastic container on the ground hoping the wind would take it away. I walked over to the bike and got the container of gas. I poured gas into each of the bottles stopping just short of the top. I then stuffed the shop clothes into each of the bottles and wetted them with the remaining gas. I packed each of these bottles in my front saddlebags. I headed back for the interstate.

After a few hours, before dark, I pulled out my map and looked for a good back road that passed over the interstate in at least two places and then split off as a short cut to another interstate. I had nearly given out on finding one in this state, but I finally found it. I expected to be a couple hours after dark before getting there. That would work out well, my voices were saying inside my head. I drove towards tonight’s goal.

I arrived at the first bridge and the traffic on my road was light, but the interstate traffic was moderate. Since I was going to be travelling west, I started to watch the eastbound lane. I could see five cars running close together. I lit the cloth hanging from the bottle and threw it down onto the windshield of the first car. The bottle exploded both blinding and scaring the driver. His car swerved and I could hear the crashing under the bridge of a nice five-car pile up. I mounted my bike and drove as fast as I could to the second bridge. There I watched the westbound lane. I started to aim for three cars running close, but then I saw a fuel truck. If the truck is full, this should be very interesting. I started my bike up and lit he cloth. I did not want to be too close if this did work. I was aiming for the windshield but the truck was traveling a little slower than I thought. The bottle hit the road right in front of the truck, and it exploded underneath the truck’s cab. The truck started to canter to the left as it went under the bridge. I drove my bike off the bridge as the sound of metal started scraping under the bridge. It was not long until I heard the fuel ignite and a nice warm glow dance across my back as I was driving off. I drove as fast as I could to where the road met the interstate. I drove west and since there was no traffic to slow me down, I made very good time.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 7:42 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
The Dream of Being a Writer. pt 2 of 4
The voices arrive.


The doctor examining me awoke me. He told me they had gotten a sample of the semen and had taken “preventative cautions” to prevent me from getting pregnant. I had three broken ribs, a sprung elbow, and several bruises. He thought 5 days of bed rest would help a great deal. The ribs would still be tender but I could move around better then as long as I gave them time to set and start healing. They moved me to my room, and I asked for my backpack. I was given some counseling about my rape. I listened to what the doctor had to say, but it just did not matter to me, I wanted those men dead.

I started drawing all my waking hours, in just four days I had used the 200 sheets of paper I had up. A nurse found 30 sheets of paper from a laser printer for me. I realized that my novel was gone. I had not made a backup copy of it, or even sent any copies of it over the Internet. I should have at least e-mailed it to myself. I started hearing something in the back of my head. It was a small voice; I think maybe it was the serial killer I had been writing about before my laptop was stolen. On the remaining papers I had left, I started to write down the weapons the voice was saying. The list grew very quickly. I started to categorize them; over used / common, special abilities required, interesting, unique, silly, and tortuous / cruel.

After the list was filled with everything possible, the voice began talking about way I could hunt down and hurt the men that raped me. I wish I was able to imagine the serial killer so well while I was writing the book would have been so much easier to write. I dozed off listening to various tortures the men could enjoy.

The next morning, I called my credit card company and saw what the balance was left. The police must have cancelled my old credit card quick enough that the men were not able to get any money off of it. I had the rest of my savings account deposited into the credit card so I would have easy access to it with out having to carry any cash. All of my balance was there. I also had $200 hidden in my clothes, and got another $500 at an ATM in the hospital. The rapists had gotten a little over $600 cash from my wallet, but at least they had not gotten everything. I called my insurance company to make sure they were going to cover all the medical bills; they said that they did not see a problem with my case.

I called the police department and talked with the detective that had helped me. He said they had not yet caught the men, but they did have a lead since they tried to use my credit card after it was cancelled. He promised to call me as soon as there were any developments. He also asked how I was doing and if I needed anything. I asked about my bike, and he said it was at the hospital so I could use it as soon as I was able to. I then heard another voice, but I realized this was the detective from the novel I had been working on. The voice said he didn’t think the men would be found any time soon since there had been no similar rapes in the area and unless they tried something like this again, the material evidence would not lead us anywhere. I thanked him for all his kindness and hung up. I shook my head; these characters can get a little annoying when I’m trying to talk with other people.

The doctor kept me in the hospital for a full 7 days. My ribs were not healing as fast as they should have so I needed to stay off them that extra time so as not to hurt the bones mending. During this time other characters started to talk with me. They would tell me either how to catch the men that had raped me or what else I should be doing to forget what had been done to me. The doctor wrapped my ribs up nice and tight before I left and gave me some extra bandages so I could change them if needed. He also gave me some mild painkillers incase the pain got any worse. I was wheeled down to where they had my bike parked. I needed a little help climbing onto the bike, but after I was in the seat, I was much more comfortable.

The serial killer personality forced me to drive to the park where the attack occurred. I drove around for over an hour looking at the various campers, grounds workers, and then even a few of the local neighborhoods around the park without seeing any of the men I wanted.

I then listened to the heroine from my story and drove away from town until I found an interstate road. I took the northbound lane. I really wanted out of this state as fast as I could. I drove all afternoon and into evening. I finally started feeling my ribs tell me it was time to lay down and relax. I picked a nice motel that had a restaurant so I would not have to leave for supper. I checked in and went to my room. I ordered supper and ate it while watching TV. I could not get into any of the shows on the TV; voices kept surfacing and wanting to talk, advise, or simply shout whatever they wanted to say and then fall back below the surface once again. I dozed off during this and slept thru most of the night.

Room service woke me early in the morning asking if I needed anything. I ordered a small breakfast and started going thru my backpack. I decided I did not need most of it. I do not think I can go into the parks any more. I will just try to stay in cheap motel and make my way back home and see if my old job still needs me. The serial killer’s voice was back, he wanted me to look at my drawings I had done at the hospital. I started looking thru my drawing, and I really think I was getting good. I then ran across my deadly weapons list. The serial killer said the list was far too big, so I started a new list on a new piece of paper; weapons that would fit in my now empty backpack. I changed a few items; piano strings might be hard to get so I substituted guitar strings. I figured I could fit 30 separate items in my backpack that would seem mostly harmless at first glance, no obvious weapons like guns or large hunting knives.

The serial killer wanted to go shopping, so I drove to a couple of local stores. Spending most of the cash I had left, I bought a few of the items on my paper. At a sports store they were carrying collapsible crossbow. Although this was never on my list, I could see a lot of potential in this weapon. I bought this and 6 bolts for it. I also asked about local deer hunting laws, just incase the weapon was a little weird for some one to buy. I went back to the motel and unwrapped my new toys. I tried various ways of packing them to make the least noise and be comfortable to wear. The detective in my head asked if these made me feel more protected. They do, I feel much safer.

The next day I checked out of the motel and started driving northeast. I stopped at most towns along the interstate buying one to two items. I found infrared binoculars in a pawnshop that could also see in the ultra violet spectrum, and I found a .22 caliber key chain and picked up 6. So I broke my no gun rule, this on was so concealable that it might come in handy. By nightfall, I had enough bags in my saddlebags to finish filling my backpack. I checked into another motel. The heroine voice jumped forward and told me I should get some excersize so my ribs would heal right. The area around the motel was rather wooded so I tried to go hiking a little. My ribs were still hurting some, but a pill later they were not bothering me too bad.

I am not really sure why I brought the back pack along. The backpack was a little heavy but I was glad I brought it. I could hear a couple enjoying the warm summer night. I pulled out the night vision and set the amplification as low as it would go. They worked well, I could not make out a lot of the scenery, it must have been set on infrared and all the foliage was the same temperature, but I could see where the couple was. I tried to change viewing modes but apparently had not studied their location and settings enough. After a few minutes, I got it adjusted to ultraviolet. One of the voices whispered I should get closer and see what is really going on. I used the night vision to walk carefully forward and get closer to the couple.

I could hear the couple’s fevering pitch rising near my hiding spot. I started to have flash backs to the night when I was raped in the park. I grew scared and a voice whispered I should protect myself, so I decided to take out my crossbow and a bolt. I knocked the bolt and wait. I started to sweat, but I realize these people aren’t the men who raped me. Was I really going to shoot these people? The whispering voice comes again and says I must stop these people from sex because that leads to violence and rape. The man’s grunts as he has sex with this woman decided the issue for me. I wanted to fire just one shot thru both skulls for the least amount of noise. The moon was just barely out, but it gave enough light that I could aim properly. The voices were all quietly telling me to take the shot. The couple was nearing their climaxes as a clear shot came into view. I loosed the arrow watched it slide thru both of them.

I sat in the new silence waiting to see if any others had heard me. After a few minutes, I realized I had taken out a Polaroid from my backpack and taken a few pictures. I don’t remember taking the camera out or taking the pictures, but the voices calm me down saying I need to savor this moment. The voices also tell me I must alter the bodies so the trail will be too convoluted for the law to catch me. I then withdrew a pocket knife and began cutting out random parts of the couple. I tossed the parts in several directions, and drew symbols over the bodies leaving this gruesome scene for any one to find. I took a few more pictures of the mutilated bodies. I then packed all my gear back up and walked back to my room.

The next morning my voices woke me up and told me it was time to go, I checked out, and best I could tell no one had found the missing couple yet. I drove most of the day down the interstate. I thought if I could get to a new state I could take some time and think about what I had done. At least the voices were quiet while I made my get away.

I stopped in a motel well off the beaten path. I hope to stay here a couple of days and decide if I should try to turn myself in. I still do not understand where all that hatred came from and why were the voices becoming so strong. I am not sure if I am still in control of my actions. Once I saw the couple and heard them, something deep down inside me wanted the voices to take over. Maybe I should go to a doctor here and talk again about what happened in the park. The same deep down feeling came up again, and I knew I could not talk with any one about this. The voices would not let me talk to any one about them or what I had done.


Posted by shannonwagoner at 12:59 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Tuesday, 25 April 2006
The Dream of Being a Writer. pt 1 of 4

I have been trying to write a good murder story for years, but the rejections from all the publishing houses came in as fast as I could write. I saved up money from my full time job and bought a laptop. I then set up an Internet account that had an 800 number and bought an acoustic modem so I could call from any phone. I traded my car for a good motor bike and several hiking and camping accessories.

After selling my furniture, and letting my lease expire, I placed half of my money on a prepaid credit card and left the remainder in a savings account. I set out to learn more about life in America and see if I could write a good story, any story, just as long as I get published. Packing many items in the bike’s saddlebags, and the few remaining ones in a backpack, I drove away from the city.

After living in such a large dangerous city for so many years, I was amazed at the simplicity of some areas. People really could leave their doors open at night and walk down the street without constantly looking over their shoulder. After wanting to write a murder mystery for so long, I started seeing how a serial killer could have a field day in the more placid regions, but I realized while these areas were serene they were not totally isolated. The FBI or state law enforcement could come in and have the high tech they needed. Then I thought what if the serial killer broke the mold and did not kill the same way every time, prey on the same type of people, or most importantly what if they did not stay in the same area so the different police departments never linked the crimes together. Would that stop a profiler from being able to pre-guess the killer’s next move?

That night I started typing, but the story did not come as fast or as easy as I had hoped it would. I had never seen any one die, at least not up close. So how could I depict the graphic nature my character would slay these people? I went to a pay phone, logged into the Internet, and downloaded a few interviews of famous serial killers. I stayed up most of the night reading in my little tent the stories of these people. Near dawn, my battery finally gave out. I slept thru the early morning until the heat became too oppressive. I broke camp and stowed everything.

Today I biked for a few hours and came on a small inn that had a good rate. Needing to charge my batteries and take a much-needed shower, I checked in. I slept much of the evening until a couple checked in next door. They must have thought the motel was deserted the way they began carrying on. I considered calling the front desk but I heard the love making take a turn for the worse. The man started becoming abusive to the woman. I could hear him cussing at her. I then could also hear him striking her. The sound of violence began to enthrall me. Although another human was being hurt, I somehow shut that thought out and was instead drawn into the drama of the abuse.

I dozed off and dreamed I was next door with the violent couple. I watched as the man slapped the woman hard enough to send her face into the bedpost. The soft squishy sound it made was unexpected. I was awakened by the sounds of sirens coming into the motel. I opened the door and saw several police officers entering the nearby room. One noticed me, came over, and asked me a few questions. Apparently, the man had hurt the woman badly, but they would not say if she were alive or not. I was asked about what type of car they drove, did I hear them fighting, and did I see the man’s face. I told them I was sleeping most of the night and that I was a very heavy sleeper.

I packed my gear and drove along the interstate for most of the afternoon. As the sun was setting, clouds were starting to form in the east. I had not heard of any rain for the area. I found a state park on one of the exit signs. I took the ramp and followed the arrows. The park was near a wooded lake. I choose primitive camping so I would not have to pay for the night.

I did not turn my laptop on tonight; instead, I sketched a little of what I thought happened in the room next door. After thirty some sheets, my drawings looked almost like a storyboard for a murder scene. I drew a few pages of the man with various weapons. While some of my pages looked very realistic, others did not. Those I worked on and got a few to look more accurate. The light from my fire was dying down and I did not see enough dry twigs or branches to revive it. I went inside my tent and drifted off to sleep.

During the night, I had a little nightmare about being chased by someone. I remembered how he had held the weapon while running and the way he clutched it while he was swinging it. After I awoke, I drew as many of these as I could recall, and the result was very realistic. If I could just capture these scenes in my writing, it would very scary.

I had never taken an interest in drawing more than doodling when I was bored, but whenever I glanced thru my growing sketchbook, I was very impressed with what I saw. For the next two weeks, I would travel a little more than three hours a day, and then I would find state parks that had nice campgrounds and spend the rest of the evening and night there. I also would sketch one or two pages of the parks that I stayed at and occasionally sights along the road that I saw during my drive. I wrote the locations on the drawing so I could use accurate scenes in my story. I rarely used my laptop, but I tried to write one to two pages a night. I was able to recharge my laptop from the bike since I was not draining the battery very much.

At the end of the two weeks, I noticed I was back in an area I knew. When I drove by a motel it struck my why this place was burned into my memory. I stayed once again at the motel where the girl was hurt. I ran the laptop batteries all the way down and then started to recharge cycle to try to keep the batteries in good shape. While the laptop was cycling thru the charge, I took a nice hot bath. A wet wash cloth in public restrooms had definitely not lived up to the cleanliness of a good shower. A soft mattress then beckoned to me. I figured one night off from drawing and writing would not hurt much. That night I again dreamed of the couple that was next door several weeks ago, but this time I was the woman being abused. I could not wake up from the dream until the man had slapped me hard enough that it sent my head into the bed post. I sat up in the wee hours alternately drawing and writing as much of the scene as I could visualize.

The next day I began driving into a metropolitan area and the motel prices were much higher than I wanted to invest. I drove for almost twelve hours before the rural pricing started to take over and I could lodge for the night. I gassed up my bike and got a room. The hotel had a square outside, and had only one door in to access all the rooms. I cleaned up and started the laptop on its charge cycle. I lay in bed and slept in spurts. I woke up at various times thru the night and listened in the dark wondering if I would hear any of my neighbors, but I did not.

I woke early the next morning and sat in the room drawing until check out. I drew several views of my room and how the check in was set up. I drew a maid pushing her cleaning cart and the hallway leading to and from my room. I drew the gas station I had been at last night and my mind began to wonder about what would happen if someone cut the hose leaving gas to run freely and lit it somehow. The idea was more destructive than murderous, so I doubt I can work it into my story, but I still drew a few pictures with the smoke clouds and broken glass. After packing my gear, I drove away from the inn and back to the interstate.

I started heading south. The summer was almost over and if I wanted to be able to make it outdoors, I would need a warmer climate. I stopped almost every evening at a state park. I had good luck with the weather. Whenever it looked like rain, I found a motel and in three months of being on the road, I only had to stay one day out of seven at a motel due to weather. All my motel and park visits were one night only. I wrote a little bit on the laptop every day. The story was not coming fast or easy, but at least I was getting some of it done. I was just passing 150 pages.

When I made it about halfway thru Texas my luck changed. I arrived at a park around dusk and started my normal routine of setting up my tent, starting a fire and drawing until I grew tired. As the fire was dying I packed up my drawing materials, put my laptop back into its case, and was walking towards my tent. I am not sure what happened next, but best I can tell I was struck over the head by one of my assailants. When I regained consciousness, I was tied, gagged, and my clothes were removed.

Three men were standing there undressing. I tried to wiggle free, but the ropes were tied painfully tight. Each man took at least one turn raping me. When they were finished with me, they started going thru my stuff. They took my computer, my billfold where I kept some of my cash and my credit card. I was lucky they did not find the keys for my motorcycle or they would have taken it as well. They knew time was short because some one could come along and catch them. Before they left, one came over to me and told me not to report them to the cops or they would kill me. He emphasized his point by kicking me several times.

I passed out after they left. I was awakened the next day when two park rangers found me. They called the police and an ambulance. The police got there first and while waiting on the ambulance to arrive they took my statement and sent out an APB with a description of the three men that attacked me and put a trace on my credit card and reported it as stolen for me. The police officer helped load me onto the ambulance and assured me he would gather my belongings and hold them for me till I was ready for them. I passed out on the way to the hospital from the pain in my side.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 11:03 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
soul mates
I was wandering thru life, wanting to be a better person but continuously falling short again and again. I search for what I know not. I feel a deep yearning for something more in my life, but I never seem to be able to find it and grab hold of it.

Time passes by and my heart hurts for missing what I am lacking. A piece of me is missing. My heart does not feel whole. My mind begins to shatter like a vase dropped to the floor. I can not think straight. I just feel the deep need to fill the missing gaps.

I went to school, while I excelled far beyond my peers, it was such a hollow victory. Beating the competition on the scholastic field was too easy and it never touched the deep spots in my being. I learned various items of use, and saw the world thru better eyes, but all the more I could see I knew all the more I was missing something very important.

I got a good job and traveled the world. I saw many lands and many people. I experienced the architecture marvels and diverse societies of many lands. The whole in my soul was still there. The yearning for the one thing that would fill me body and soul just was remaining aloft and just beyond my grasp.

I turned to religion. I learned about my God, learned about other gods and religions. I found my true religion and developed a very personal relationship with Jesus, but this did not fill the void I am questing for the answer to. God did fill the spiritual hole in my life and I dearly thank him for his love and grace, but I must keep penetrating the mystery of this quandary eating at my core. I must find my missing life.

Then one evening a woman came into my life. She was everything missing in my life, she made all the wrong right, all the bad good, and all the loneliness into the brightest love ever. I met and fell in love with my soul mate. She made my life worth living. She made every everyday experience new and exciting. She saved my life. And I will spend every minute of my life loving her and working hard to make her as happy as she has made me.

Amy, I love you with all my mind, body, and soul. I am yours forever.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 6:20 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Monday, 24 April 2006
Theodore Lowi: from ?The End of Liberalism?
Today’s “interest-group liberalism” can be traced back to the Adam Smith model of politics in “Hidden Hand”. It seems to be using several philosophies to achieve its goals, but there are problems associated with these philosophies; pluralism, countervailing power, creative federalism, partnership, and participatory democracy.

The pluralist component propagates faith that the systems foundation is groups and bargaining to self correct, but some of this faith is false and others have not been even tested. Another assumption of this philosophy is diversity to ensure competition with out allowing the competition to become too intense. The laissez-faire concept also falls under this philosophy in the extent that it is unable to come to terms with the problem of imperfect competition.

In my opinion, today's liberalism is facing many worse problems. The social programs created to ensure a better life for Americans can be argued to now be making a worse environment for the average American and their family; The debt and its interest has by far out-ranged reason, fraud and misuse is throught the Medicare and welfare system putting an incredible strain on the validity and funding of these programs, and with the baby-boomers approaching retirement, the funding for social security is going to quickly fall below even the most modest expenditures. These are problem we must approach with reason and tackle with courage and not leave these programs to flounder in the status quo.

The worst problem with tackling these failing programs is the leaders have to be so innovative that they are basically unelectable. Only once in the twenty years I have followed politics or in the century I have read about has a group been able to take control and use it for true reform. Newt Gingrich and his Contract with America was truly amazing. This was one of the few times a group of elected officials made a list of promises and kept every one. While their dishonest opponents claimed they had defeated it, the republicans did keep all the Contract with America promises. The Contract with America had 10 itemized goals that were promised to get a vote up or down within the first one hundred days of the new congress, and that is exactly what did happen. While they all didn’t make it past Clinton, the reforms at least had a chance to be heard and thought about by the public at large. Newt Gingrich’s iron handed control as Speaker of the House and his incredible success with keeping all his campaign promises built him so many enemies that they used every smear campaign strategy available to oust him. To our loss and shame, Newt Gingrich was ran out of office. It was a very black day on the hill and a black smear across democracy.

A decade has past since this chance to better America. We still are enjoying some of the benefits of the laws that were passed then, but so many new ones have been enacted that have eroded the good. I just hope we can once again find a leader as strong and intelligent as Newt Gingrich was in the 90’s.

With the nearing of the end of G. Bush’s presidency, I am scared with the political field so quiet. Now is the time for the next candidates to start letting themselves be known. If they do not show a strong front we may be cursed with some one even worse than we have had to deal with, for example; Hilary Clinton. . Democracy is a privledge not a right, and we have to keep fighting to protect it on every front both domestic and abroad. Any attack we allow to go unanswered can be a bolt thru the heart of America.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 9:19 PM EDT
The Truth???
I have been seeing all these stop smoking advertisements. I have been mainly watching ‘The Truth’ and its exaggerations. I can’t understand the demonification of a perfectly legal product. Personally I am allergic to the smoke, but that is my problem. I sit in the nonsmoking sections of restraints and almost all stores and workplaces are smoke free. Places have gone as far as making smoking banned in open air venues or even in the outside public. While I feel these are extreme, they are voted in by the communities they affect.


With hand guns, automatic weapons, and bombs entering our schools at an alarming rate. Killing our kids indiscriminately, with drugs far more harmful that smoking on the rise, with wars and racism around the world killing ten times more people than smoking ever could. Then with inner city gangs on the rise and the dwindling prospects for any one to be able to achieve the American dream. How can anyone act like cigarettes is a big deal? Or that this problem justifies large amounts of money being spent when it could be going to fight much larger problems?

These groups fighting smoking seem to only have been born after the massive tobacco settlement with the states. Does this mean a large portion of the settlement promised to help each state with increased healthcare costs have been wasted on these silly TV campaign? Does this mean that the additional healthcare costs will once again fall on the shoulders of the tax payers? Or could these antismoking campaigns have a darker motivation?

It is illegal to advertise cigarettes on TV since the big tobacco settlement with the states. By hyping up cigarettes as bad you can be making it look cooler to smoke than ever and this keeps cigarettes on the minds of children. Kids are going to rebel against anyone trying to impose their will over their own. The terrible teens rise to the challenge. I think ‘The Truth’ must work for big tobacco because they are definitely making more new smokers than any previous campaign advertisement by the individual tobacco companies before.

All I can say to whom ever is running these nonsmoking advertisements is, keep up the "good" work and all our kids will have a good chance lung cancer before the decade is out.

Posted by shannonwagoner at 12:32 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Sunday, 23 April 2006
A School Day

The white hot light of the sun pierces my sleep laden eyes as it struggles above the horizon. "Just five more minutes" my mind screams, but that just increases the agony of the oncoming day. My feet will have to hit the floor in a run to get all of the procrastinated jobs I left to be done. My breakfast cooking, my clothes drying in the dryer, and I in the shower; all these trying to complete my morning routine at warp speed. Clothes damp, food burnt, and body wet; now I have to leave. No, I should have already left. Car started and pulling out of the drive, while I hope I don't get my dozenth speeding ticket as I fly to school. As I swerve into the nearest parking lot, I notice there aren't a lot of cars. I must be lucky to have gotten this good of a parking place, so maybe I won't be late. I make it to the classroom door in a pant. It's empty. Oh, no! It's Saturday!


Posted by shannonwagoner at 12:55 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Saturday, 22 April 2006
TheSeaShore
The white foamy water crashed on the eroded rocks of the sea shoreline. As the water streaks back into the ocean, it takes several stolen minerals back from its foray with the rocks. Fish ride the build up of the next wave to shore to get fresh nutrition from the shore. Some fish are too slow in their turn to angle back out to sea safely; the slower fish are swept sideways towards the jagged rocks to be either impaled or crushed on them. Most of the beached fish are brought out with the new influx of water to either run & hide till they are healed or they will quickly become nutritious food for the other creatures of the water. As the noon day sun achieves the apex of its daily trek, the heat causes the cold blooded fish to become legeric; the patient warm blooded sea life now moves into the area to either consume shore nutrients or the lazy lagoon fish. The sun slowly sinks below the horizon causing darkness to fall on this ecosystem. The participants rest for a new day in the trials of life.

This was before man came. Now the water brings trash and posions back from the shoreline. The few fish that are able to remain only do at their own peril. Extinction approaches, but not just for the sea. From the primordial sea came life, and so shall death rear it’s head. The Four Horsemen will arrive on our shores and give man the reaping he deserves for evil he has sown.


Posted by shannonwagoner at 3:54 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Friday, 21 April 2006
The Eyes of a Killer

In protecting a country’s soil or interests, a soldier is sometimes asked to kill. America has had numerous armed conflicts during its few centuries of life, and as many of these conflicts has been domestic as abroad. I served in the military during a foreign conflict started to protect our oil interests in the Middle East.

After boot camp and training in my chosen field, I was assigned to a guided missile fast frigate that had just been retro-fitted for handling nuclear missiles. Our first shake down cruise out of the yards was to the Middle East. We set sail in the early spring to cross the unpredictable Atlantic. During the trip over, we crossed paths with a hurricane, and because of time restraints set on us, we had to sail through the eye of the storm. Our crew set a new definition of sea sickness on that topsy-turvy voyage.

When land was in sight again, a marines compliment crew crowded aboard at a port in southern Europe. We then sailed right into the war zone so we could begin our patrols. Three sailors armed with .45 caliber pistols would drop 20 marines with M-16 rifles for eight hour patrols. We ran a total of 6 groups in shifts so that there were always 2 patrols ashore.

One night I was a stand-in on a patrol for a night pick-up. The bay was quiet as a grave yard as we rode towards the shore line. We drove into a small inlet to provide secrecy for our mission. The rendezvous time came and went. We nervously waited thirty minutes, and then we radioed back to the ship on a secured frequency to get further instructions. We were told that one of us had to scout the area for signs of our missing party, and since I was the lowest rank, I was assigned the task by the ranking officer in the party.

Since our boat was a few dozen feet out in shallow water, I waded the last few feet to the beach and crawled ashore. I then moved inland across the powdery beach, towards the scrub brush for better cover. I drew my pistol and crouched in the middle of a bush listening for any sounds. I could hear movement to my right, on down the beach. While keeping low I dodged from bush to bush as quietly as I could. In the foreign dark night, I misjudged the distance of the noise because I quickly came upon the source.

He was fairly dark complected with a dirty gray - beige uniform and a dark beret. When I saw his bayoneted AK-47, I realized I was facing an Iranian soldier. I held my pistol firmly on him and yelled, “Freeze or I’ll shoot!” In the dark night, there was just enough pale moonlight to clearly see his eyes.

I watched as his eyes glazed from perfectly normal brown to a cold glint of steel as he started to move. In that second, I realized I could see what is in the eyes and the heart of a killer. My decision was already made by all the months of training I had received and the fact that I wanted to live. I pulled the trigger that sent a quarter ounce of metal in between the cold steel eyes.

Looking back on that day, all I can wonder and never know is; did I also have the eyes of a killer that day?

Posted by shannonwagoner at 10:34 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Thursday, 20 April 2006
Debate: no it?s not, yes it is, well you are a poopy head!
while this was a reply to a comment left on my yahoo blog by some one, i thought the material was relevent enough to be posted as it's own blog entry here as well


I usually enjoy feedback on my writings; I try to be edgy enough to give a wide margin for differential opinions. Then I get a real bright reply to a 740 word opinion letter on racism, this person wrote a grand total of 4 sentences. Don’t get me wrong, someone that is concise may be able to deliver a very valid argument in a short paragraph. This person however didn’t even come close in my personal opinion.

The writer starts the first sentence giving their qualifications, which were basically none since it was their husband in college and so the info was second hand at best. While this would provide a shaky ground to build a thoughtful argument on, it was still possible.

Well they just spend the last 3 sentences with personal attacks. It takes all 3 sentences just to make 2 attacks. The first assertion/attack is that I’m just lazy. Well I guess I’ll just stoop to their level and reply; no I’m not, no I’m not, you are the lazy one. Wow that was a good sophomoric flashback.

Then we come to the next assertion/attack. First I get accused of being unemployed, then they go on and some how use my blogs as proof of their answer that I am out of work. With logic jumps of this magnitude we should harness this person for light speed space travel. I hate to burst your contemptuous bubbles, but yes I do work. I have worked since I was 15. I also do hope you have a job and do better work there than the guess work you have attempted here.

This is a good example why I wish rhetoric was still taught in the average school curriculum. Arguing can be interesting, at least when both parties have facts and concepts to compare and contrast and not just off topic person attacks.

At least I live I live in America where we have free speech, no matter how insignificant or indecipherable. Good luck and feel free to post again.




Posted by shannonwagoner at 10:34 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink

Newer | Latest | Older