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Thread: Beech is trying his hand at writing!

  1. #1

    Beech is trying his hand at writing!

    Beech anounced in another forum that he is about to start writing a book. It's nice to have an author among us. His chosen topic has to do with the movie industry and his acting exploits. A self help book from a credible actor.

    Let's all chip in ideas for chapter and section titles... maybe even the cover title! Let 'er rip...

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  3. #2
    I've got no idea what you're talking about, but I can tell you the book is going to suck

  4. #3
    Haha! I think what he's referring to is your comment on my facebook page about my observations of being on a TV series film set all day Monday.
    Are we there yet?

  5. #4
    Quote Originally Posted by tallsteve View Post
    Haha! I think what he's referring to is your comment on my facebook page about my observations of being on a TV series film set all day Monday.
    'Beech = Author
    Tall Steve = TV Star

    What's going on around here?

  6. #5
    Just a little cautionary tale....Be careful of what you wish for.....

    This is what happens when pen hits paper and you think that writing is just putting down your last hike...

    Visitation



    well that did not work....maybe next time....

    There was static in the air on the afternoon I left for Starvation Point. I set out, not alone but with
    a trusted K-9 companion, Diogi, who was a seasoned and reliable animal in the desert. A mixed breed of pit bull and blue healer, alert, cautious, and very capable of defending himself if the need arose.
    We planned this journey with high hopes of solitude and a much needed break from the teeming masses of humanity. I have always been an introvert and much prefer the company of a loyal dog over the bothersome company of humans. Even the most trusted friend becomes draining in very short time.
    Starting the hike at Atkinsville wash, following along the Virgin river, bushwhacking a path through the Desert willow, Four-wing saltbush,Crucifixion thorn, and a number of other plant species I do not have the knowledge to name. Bleeding from the many scratches, I decided to try an easier route and walk the many sand bars that had formed along the edge of the river.
    The route was much easier and Diogi and I strolled on at a leisurely pace, enjoying the warm afternoon Sun and slight southern breeze.
    We continued down the river for about a mile reaching Little Round Valley and a large bend in the river, Diogi was finally settling in and becoming more playful and less protective, frolicking in the river and harassing the many frogs along the bank.
    I was enjoying watching him and looking for any sign of early human occupation on the surrounding cliffs.
    As we rounded the bend and the effects of the warm Sun and a few pulls on a bottle of Midleton Dair Ghaelach set in, I stopped to take a look around and bask in the beauty of the surrounding desert.
    That is when I noticed a slight change in the feel of earth below my feet. I gazed down to see what I stepped in when I realized I had found one of the many wonderful dangers of the desert, Quicksand. I was sinking at a slow, steady pace to right about mid-thigh. Diogi was standing on the bank barking and wagging his tail at me as I sank ever deeper.
    I decided that it was time to extricate myself from this little set back and laid on my back and swam out. I spent the next hour or so cleaning the slime off myself and my gear, Diogi was very helpful, licking my face and being an all around pain in the ass.
    I figured it would be much safer and quicker to hike across the flat at Big Round Valley if we where to make our first camp site before dark. The valley is a sandy flood plain populated by
    at least a dozen varieties of cactus, yuccas, sagebrush and other flora that is just waiting
    to stick you. About midway through the plain I notice the first signs of ancient habitation,
    small concentrations of lithic stones. Diogi also alerted on a nice size Western Diamond back that we gave plenty of breathing room to. As we reached the southern edge of the plain small mesas began on which we encountered our first Native village.
    The village consisted of ten to twelve pit houses and was littered with pot shards and flakes, I will return to this site at another time to take a closer look.
    We climbed up a saddle in the mesa to the south and had our first look at Starvation Point,
    I could make out a sandy bench surrounded by short cliffs above the river on the west slope of the mesa. Could this be the cliffs I have heard tales of from crusty old desert rats?
    Cliffs with numerous petroglyphs and pictographs?
    The Sun was slowly dropping in the western sky and we made a rapid descent to the bench.
    I found a nice spot against the cliff and set about making camp.
    The Christians can have their pearly gates, the Vikings can keep Valhalla, for me, I have not seen a human all day, a warm fire, a dog curled up at your feet, and a dinner of dry salami, cheese, and fry bread washed down with fine Irish whisky, with a billion stars sparkling overhead, it just does not get better than this.
    As the last of the amber in the fire faded and a calm spread over the scene, I had no idea of the eldritch horrors the night had in store for me...

    ************************************************** *****

    Sleep for me comes quickly in the desert, but this evening the minutes drag, something seems out of sorts. The air thick and still and some how oppressive and weighty.
    The normal scents, crisp and clean, tainted with a rotten, unclean, musty, vaguely sinister smell.
    I tossed for what seems like hours but the welcome embrace of a fitful slumber finally over took me.
    I was jarred awake a short time later by a deep, low gravelly growl, mixed with a slight whimpering coming from the corner of my tent. I rose to see Diogi cowering in the corner, the look of terror clearly showing in his eyes.
    I called to him in a calm and soothing voice. This was greeted by Diogi pushing back into the deepest reaches of the tent corner, His hair standing upright, teeth exposed, and a vicious, menacing growl. He looked at me shivering, with loathsome, hateful and malicious intentions.
    I slowly but deliberately reach for my pistol, pulled back the hammer and moved toward the opposite corner of the tent. I again spoke to Diogi in a firm but calming manner,
    Whats wrong boy ?. His growling grown less intense but the whimpering continued, he moved a little forward urinating and shaking. I slow reached my hand out speaking in reassuring tones.
    He crawled tentatively towards me, and huddles by my side.
    I suddenly realize that the temperature has dropped significantly, and a cold chill has sweep across my body, seeping into the very marrow of my bones. A deep and growing silence fill the night air. I reach out and unzip the tent flap, cautiously peer from the interior of the tent. I checked my pistol to make sure that a round has been chambered, gripping the handle tightly I slowly emerge into the night. Diogi is slow to follow my lead but joins me, pressed petrified against my leg.
    The first thing that I notice is the complete lack of stars, a sky filled with stars hours before now an empty void of black. A dark murky haze or mist has gathered in the small valley where we are camped. Visibility is down to only 10 to 15 feet in any direction, I can not see the river in front of us or the cliffs behind. Taking a quick scan of the surrounding area I can detect no movement, no sound, no sensation of life, nothing, it is as if the entire world has ceased to exist. We move forward with cautious foot steps, each one a measured move, stealth is the key here. We must remain undetected until the situation has been appraised. Moving towards what I think is west and the river bank, I stop and listen with great frequency to try and detect any
    sign of danger lurking in the thick under brush. I am faced with only deafening silence like of a long forgotten decaying tomb. I venture further in to the gathering darkness and feel damp soil beneath my feet, I have come to the rivers edge. The appearance of the flowing river is unearthly, an oily film seems to cover the water form shore to shore. The smell is ghastly and nauseating like the stench of an abandoned charnel house.
    A sound ? I listen intently, afraid to take in a breath for fear of missing a sign that something, anything is out there. There it is again, in the distance across the river, gravel sliding down a long, steep slope. Diogi has taken a protective posture but is still unsure and timid, growling lowly and quietly. Minutes passed by without any further sounds.
    I attach Diogi to his leash and weigh the options of investigating the sounds from across the rivers expanse. A feeling deep in the dark recess of my mind compels me to move forward.
    We enter the swiftly moving river and quickly encounter a waist deep, thick gelatinous liquid.
    Our movements are strenuous and draining against the rushing current. After what seemed like hours we make our way onto the opposite bank, take a moment to catch our breath.
    The air here is colder. I can just make out the mouth of a small slot canyon in the face of the cliff.
    We make our way toward the slot through the under brush, the way is surprisingly easy, almost as if we are being guided, beckoned to the canyon. As I near the canyon, with each foot step the air is becoming warmer, Diogi is now pulling hard on his leash, desperately trying to escape his restraint. As I draw near to the Cliff face I can make out a faint design, an image, the writing of the ancient ones.


    ************************************************** *******

    An encounter with rock art has always stopped me in my tracks, On the very spot you stand, at one time in the past someone from a different culture, a different era stood and left his mark on the cliffs.
    For me this is exhilarating, but not this time. The images are becoming clearer and more distinct,
    I can begin to make out what they represent, Pictographs of a man in white pigment, a dog in black pigment, a reverse spiral in red pigment. As I look closer the hue does not look right, its to thick, to clear not like any I have seen in my travels. I move in to get a better look and can not help but reach out and touch the images, the man and dog appear to be mineral based pigment but the spiral, it is reverse, which I have been told by the Hopi Elders represents evil, bad things, things out of balance with the universe, Koyaanisqatsi. Touching the spiral I feel a warm, wet, sticky substance. Drawing my hand back I realize with much foreboding and trepidation that what I am seeing and touching is blood.
    Unable to make my mind fathom the stimulus it was receiving, paralyzed with fear I stood looking down upon my hand, stained red, dripping on the sandy canyon floor, glistening in a ray of a dim, ghostly light shining from within the dark depths of the canyon.
    My eyes are drawn to the light, flickering and dancing upon the patina covered walls. It mesmerizes me, I can not look away.The feeling of dread and dismay growing stronger in my chest. Each breath I take a struggle against the feeling of invisible constricting hands tightening around my torso, crushing, squeezing, draining the very life force from my weakening body. I struggle in a vain attempt to break the bonds that imprison me, the bonds that are slowly depriving me of strength and vitality, slowly weakening my will to live. I am unable to defend myself against the force which is dragging me increasingly towards the light. As I am pulled close toward the source of the light I round a slight turn in the tight, asphyxiating canyon, and the realization of the true horror, the dread,
    the true psyche shattering truth was lain before me.
    A figure, malevolent, vile, and as old as time formed from the smoke of a fire that reeked of an abominable funeral pyre, gradually taking its true form. the resurrection of a ancient evil, an evil I know all to well......

    ************************************************** **********************

    I have faced this demon many times before, a nightmare formed in childhood by isolation, malady and infirmity.
    This odious abomination glaring down at me with eyes so black, so vacant, vengefully seeking to draw the vitality and strength from my body and mind. My knees weaken and buckle, falling, crumbling forward towards the blank, uninhabited expanse, falling, spiraling into an endless void of despair. My constitution is weakening vapidly as my body breaks down. The tether that connects my physical presence to the corporeality of the cosmos, stretched, fragmenting into a thousand segments. As my body departs from the perceived realm of existence, I sense His presence, ravenous, dreadfully grazing upon my hollow, sepulchral form. I begin to feel my consciousness slipping away, He reaches towards me, blood covered claws digging, peeling the flesh from my lifeless corpse. Tearing, slashing at my vacant, lifeless frame. I feel the vacuum of his eyes boring deep into the darkest recesses of what is left of my shattering mind, probing, scrutinizing my every thought and memory. Laying bare memories hidden behind a well constructed defense. A defense that is being annihilated, obliterated and left in ruins. Completely defenseless, vulnerable I stand before the personification of my nightmares. An image once imprisoned in the dream world manifest in the physical world. His disease boring into the core of my mind, penetrating, piercing, searching for something.
    I realize He seeks something that was lost many years ago, a part of me I abandoned, rejected, something forsaken... my soul.
    I am the escaped one, After I was born they locked me up inside me but I left. My soul seeks me,
    through hills and valley, I hope my soul never finds me...
    I sense his going agitation, desperation, His invasion into mind has left him devoid of the subsidence he craves, the officiousness of his efforts enraging, inflaming his rage and hatred.
    He seeks only my destruction, the complete annihilation of my existence. The putrescent, malignant images formed in my subconscious mind, disgusting, repugnant, disassembling my weakened, fragile, tenuous grip on sanity. I struggle desperately to find some way to defend myself. The mocking hostility in his maniacal laughter at my feeble attempts was the final scornful action, the contemptuous twisting of his features, so insolent that my mind could no longer endure the onslaught, broken, defeated I fell into a welcome state of oblivion.

    ************************************************** ******************

    Writhing, flailing, soaked with perspiration, awakened by the reassuring touch of a cold, moist nose. Diogi, scampering in the tent, the first rays of the morning sun appearing in the eastern sky.
    Clearing the haze of a fitful nights sleep I realized that the events of last might where only a terrible nightmare. A sigh of relief escapes my dry, parched lips, I grapple for the zipper on my sleep bag. Slowly I raise myself from the confines of the snug mummy bag, as I expose my body to the cool morning air the staggering verisimilitude of the nightmare rushes back with renewed vitality, the lunacy of the sight before my eyes.....my hand...covered in blood.

    ************************************************** *********************************

    My flight to the civilized world is nothing but fragmented, disassociated memories. A chaotic, cacophonous race across the barren expanse of the desert. The sense of being watched and pursued, the persistence of malignancy heavy in the air.
    The desert, once my place of sanctuary, violated.

    It has been a few days since my harrowing experience in the desert, Diogis where abouts are unknown, the bruises, cuts, and abrasions are beginning to heal, my reluctance to speak of the outing becoming less of an annoyance for those around me.
    I spend my sleepless nights waiting, pistol loaded with only one bullet in the chamber,
    My nightmare has been given form and now haunts me in the real world. He will come for me. Night falls, silence, once so comforting now brings wretched loneliness
    Is that the sound of of a low deep dire laugh ? A faint scraping at the door ? That hideous
    smell.
    The door presses inward slowly, giving in to an unseen presence...
    My finger slowly but firmly squeezes.......
    Last edited by windminstrel; 09-13-2018 at 05:33 PM. Reason: did not work
    Edin Na Zu !

  7. #6
    Quote Originally Posted by tallsteve View Post
    Haha! I think what he's referring to is your comment on my facebook page about my observations of being on a TV series film set all day Monday.
    Ah, I see. Dang I had my hopes up for a book deal!

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