“If I had a Suicide Letter” By Horror Novelist, Daton L. Fluker





“If I had a Suicide Letter”

By Horror Novelist, Daton L. Fluker

To my beloved Friends:

I touched the panther on its shoulder. At first the cat was quiet and calculative. When I did it again, she ate me alive.
“When will I dream again?”
“How can I pull myself back-up?”
“How can I stand if you are not on my side?”
My love, what else would you like me to do? Put a sword through my heart and video tape it?

Continue reading ““If I had a Suicide Letter” By Horror Novelist, Daton L. Fluker”

“Little Worth” written by Daton L. Fluker dedicated to Freddie Mercury


Little Worth written by Daton L. Fluker on August 31, 2010.

Dedicated to Freddie Mercury.

What is this thing that builds and inventiveness but then diminishes away?

Pinus palustris needles bewilders in the forest.

And sadness and hate builds inside the long leaf pine tree.

Life bothers the needles of the tree.

The wind blows green with darken hate.

The ground finds a place for Earth to recap itself.

So does the foundation of life find a way to weld a new garden.

God, I beg you to forgive Adam and Eve and let us venture our souls again.

It’s that one moment that is very sweet to most, but still brutally miserable for others.

Sisters and brothers dream in our garden.

Mothers bear fruit, and the tree of life moves on butchering us fruitfully.

Catch my tears with your rag.

Tape my wounds and whip my ass.

A thousand forever’s forgotten; most are remembered but all is lost.

The most valuable things are given by time.

A kiss a touch and even a smell is given by time.

Appetites grow uncountable.

Greed penetrates kayos.

Art is now captured and not canvassed.

Time tortures dreams but inevitably destroys us.

Nothing is certain not even a perennial source of water.

The emulation to survive has taking away valuable time.

Is this sadness are a regrettable remembrance of forever?


Covenantally written by Daton L. Fluker dedicated to @LZZYHALE and @Pink



Covenantally written by Daton L. Fluker

Dedicated to Lzzy Hale
and Alecia Beth Moore -Pink

We can’t fully understand civilization. When the shadows call, we come running. When the light calls, we hide in its shadows.
To my beautiful world. We should stand, and not understand. We are, we were, and we will be great.
That’s all I need is Mother Nature. When I see her, all the pain goes away. I’ll die happy. I’ll die with love in my heart.
That’s how dark poetry was created. Silhouettes dance on pink walls. An eyeball is amazed by silent music hailing the shadows.
I don’t know everything; I’m a star. I’m broken. I’m not beautiful. But, I know my words can make tears fall down your lovely tear-ducts.
I can play with you my dear. I love beautiful. And I adore ugly. I can love all.
And I will be, even if you don’t believe I am.
God’s Darkness told me that you will love me. That’s why I am.
I will only except more. I’ll never except less! MOIETITY I’ll never except you. You S.O.B! Never!
My nightmare tantrum, “who will stop me?” Me.
“Who will break me?” Me.
“Who will keep me full of energy and passion?” My dear friend, you.
Tears bleed through my heart. Isn’t intelligence given by time, and not by birth? What if a dog doesn’t bow anymore, is it still a dog?
Hatred guides us to glaciers when dark clouds loses their medium of fire. Who cares about bivalence when our soul flies when we’re free?
I told you that you’re beautiful. But, her wrist shatters when her arm breaks the coffee table because of her nightmare sneezes. Her dark hour.
I’ll eat your cookie out baby-doll. Who changes sexual favors given freely for love? As her wrist shatters, my heart breaks.
I dance on the edge. I’m sorry my chest burns with holes. They bleed with sorrow. Who can love me? Who understands my poetic tongue?
I’ve defeated myself because I’ll bow down to her; I will. So the dog is not a dog when it stops bowing its head; it’s haunting the haunted.
Her kisses curve my head. Painted on shelves and burning in fireplaces her touch mildews. She said, “ignore me and when you do see this you’ll cry hard.”
I’m not a poet – “Ha, ha, ha.” I’m just a man. We drew silhouettes on our skin in the darkness. We drank like fish and we made dirty lustful love.
I wanted you to see me naked and on hard. I shall kiss you under jet streams. My words did not speak to you fool. My heart did.
She left me riding on a rocket. Nightmare creatures dance filthy in their borrows as a muse stays hidden in his cave until his dark hour.


What does discovery means in the 21st century




Discovering our dreams is the last quest left for us.
The light of our soul shines brightly when we think about the lost stories that no one has created yet.  These stories may never be put into play.  Everyone has a story to tell.  However, I am telling my story.  Even if you are not listening. 
The forgotten energy tattle tells whispers of hope in our ears.  I promise to myself that I will not let my dreams be wasted into nothingness.  I hope the universe is listening to my roar.  I hope the universe grips the beats of my heart, and the letters of terror that flow from my finger tips, as tightly as it can.  I’m coming… I might get many let downs.  However, in the process, I will get many smiles, and meet many good people.  You might not believe in them, but I believe my nightmares are a gift from heaven.  So you can call me nightmare man.  Remember to look for the man holding the flickering light bulb when you are scared, searching for the keeper’s gate in the blackness.  It will be me.  I will bring you where you belong.  I will take you home.

Author, Daton L. Fluker

Author Daton L. Fluker Pens Futuristic Thriller, “Death Keeper’s Biological Wasteland”

Author Daton L. Fluker Pens Futuristic Thriller, “Death Keeper’s Biological Wasteland”








Contact: Ellen Green, Press Manager, Strategic Book Group -PressManager@StrategicBookGroup.com




The Future of Daton L. Fluker Is a Scary Place

Death Keeper’s Biological Wasteland is one scary novel. This futuristic thriller takes readers 2,000 years into the future, when the word “dead” has no real meaning. It is said that when there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk again.

In the year 4009, the world is in ruins, decaying even as the atmosphere slowly withers away. Garbage is piled a mile high and the smell from the Walking Dead can burn a hole in your lungs.

Daton L. Fluker is a 21st-century rap superstar who is brought back to life in the 41st century as a clone. But Daton is different from the millions of other clones. He is the chosen one, the only person predestined who can bring guidance, hope and a new life to the people of the future. But can he do it? Daton is the Death Keeper.

DEATH KEEPER’S BIOLOGICAL WASTELAND (ISBN: 978-1-60911-862-4) will be available on March 29, 2011 for $13.95 and can be ordered through the publisher’s website:


or at www.amazon.com or http://www.barnesandnoble.com

Wholesalers please email BookOrder@AEG-Online-Store.com


About the Author: Author Daton L. Fluker grew up in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and currently lives in Yokohama, Japan. In addition to writing, he teaches English, and he is working toward a degree in Criminal Justice at Axia College. Meanwhile, he is working on several fictional short stories.

Strategic Book Group, LLC



ABOUT: Strategic Book Group provides book publishing, book marketing, and e-book services to over 10,000 writers around the world, employing 150 people who live throughout the US and work virtually through telecommunication. Strategic Book Group is experiencing over 30% growth per year, having published approximately 3,000 authors with almost 100 new releases per month. Our books are available through Ingram, the largest book distributor in the world, as well as in bookstores, through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and all online channels. Strategic Book Group attends and exhibits at the major book expositions in London, New York, China, and Germany each year.

To follow us on Facebook: http://tinyurl.com/2cwerv7 To follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/StrategicBook

To follow us on Linked In: http://www.linkedin.com/groups?mostPopular=&gid=3690863 ### 

•    1 April 2011

Camelot Dimension 360 chapter 8


The Long Winter

Written by Author

Daton L Fluker

Flemish Translation done by

Kenyo Wells



PRESS TO GO BACK TO Camelot Dimension 360 Chapter Selection



What an awful night it was to overcome. Unconscious, lying on a hospital bed, Leith’s skin overcoats with a sticky residue of dampness engrossing the bed sheets. Stripped of his clothes, the last few hours, he has been isolated in his own vigorous world. He repeatedly turns in the bed with idle confusion. His uniform is folded neatly. It lies in the corner of the room.

One of the teenagers has become teary-eyed because of the judicious occasion. Even if no one cares for the situation to evolve, it’s repressing its self to do so on a large scale. No matter what anyone wants to believe, these bad things are happening. The children in the village grew up on the stories the Elders taught during their toddler years. Everything they were taught hovers on the brink of extinction.

The boys are the last few individuals, who occupy a business position. The other villagers are sick, dying, or dancing in a loony tune state of thinking. Like all the other stories told to them, one particular story stole most of their hearts and kept them strong during this outrageous era. It’s about their now decease Lord Cogan.

When Cogan was in his 30s, his wife was murdered and his son was taken captive by an enemy attacker, who has disappeared and left no traces to find. Even until this day, they are yet to be found. With a massive terrain, this world allows slavery-caravans to travel between communities, living and taking what resources they could find to become more overpowering. Some of these slavery-caravans only last for a few years because everyone, even the slave owners, are worn-out from walking through the heat or cold weather. This specific slave-caravan has figured out the-code-of-manner for living in an abominating type of lifestyle.

Inside the hospital room, the walls are made from logs packed together with mud. It’s an old architect technique passed down from generation-to-generation. This village’s architect ancestry is from the people who use to live there. The whole entire Apollo generation has been wiped clean, and none of them are genuine kin, except for the last two individuals. These two individuals are direct descendants of the Apollos. They bear the last of their people blood in their veins. Even so, Elizabeth still isn’t true blood.

No lighting in the room. It’s too dark to see. The doctor has bad eyesight, and most of his tools are best found by memory. Bleeding over the place, the doctor accidentally sticks himself with one of the surgical blades he took from the bedside table. Nevertheless, Leith’s arm has changed to a deep white color. The room is extremely cold. The doctor wipes his bleeding finger off with his handkerchief, and signals Elizabeth by nodding his head. She understands exactly what he is pressing her to do. Leith’s temperature is going down, and the ability to keep him-self warm will worsen.


What are you all standing around for? One of you, make yourself useful and go get some blankets. The rest of you, go on now, shoo.”

One of the boys is a bit curious he asks,


Will he be ok? I want to ask him something.”


“You can’t ask him anything if he dies. So please, can we have a little privacy?”

Elizabeth unsnaps her breast-plate. Falling to the groun, the breast-plate steadily slips off. The boys can’t see much, but it’s enough for their imaginations to run wild. With some game-wrap wrapped around her bust, she undoes the wrap staring at them.

Boys will be boys, and at this growth period in their lives, they have the tendency to play a lot. Usually teenagers are not afraid about the conclusion of their futures. They’re not worried about dyeing, even after they were just inches away from being butchered.


Oh yea baby… Take it off!” (whistles)


Only if?”

One of them jokingly says this to Elizabeth all the time, and he never gets an answer from her. However, this time he does.


Only if what?”


Only if I was your age, you sexy woman?”

Puzzled about how these teenage boys can have perverted minds like this after being in rhythmical steps with death, Elizabeth appreciates their humor, which gives her a cloak of security especially in these appeasing times.

The boys leave out, rubbing their chest-plates as if they were frolicking-their-nipples.

The shy boy, who went to get the blankets, hides his face when he comes back into the room. He trips over himself when he places the towels on the bed. She glances into his eyes.

Before the boy leaves, he practically twists his ankle trying to get a glance of her. Elizabeth is fully undressed, and doesn’t mind him looking. It might be his last chance to stare at a naked woman in his gambled-life. Stumbling over his shadow, he vacates the room.

On Leith’s fingerless-hand, the doctor spreads an antibiotic germ on it. The germ grows on the outside of rivers and lakes. If the germ is stored at room temperature incased in boiled-sterilized-mud, then it will commonly act as a disinfectant agent. It will eat away at harmful bacteria. The germ is known to heal the skin faster.

The doctor puts the disinfectant germ on the rest of Leith’s scars. Elizabeth tucks the blankets on top of Leith, climbs in the bed, and holds his cold body close to hers. When the doctor finishes spreading the antibiotic germ on Leith, he leaves out to help some other patients. Elizabeth rubs Leith’s forehead until she falls asleep.


The Camelot soldiers sit down eating their brunches. The young Apollo swordsmen are surprised because archers have invaded their city. The Camelot Archers have made it to Apollo. A few of them have taken a position at the top of the archer-towers. The rest mixes in with the other units.

The Apollo swordsmen get an idea. Since the elders are passed away, they can finally help those poor people, who are lying in the middle of the street with no homes to go and rest their heads. They decided to portion some of the village supplies with the indigent. They go toward the warehouse holding a debate about their current situation.


The Elders are dead. We are in command. We should help these people because they are starving.”


If they don’t kill us then we could rebuild better cottages.”


You heard their Lieutenant. He is not trying to kill us. The guy in the hospital is.”


If that is true, then why are we trying to save him?”


Have you been paying any attention? He is the elder’s son. Like it or not, he is our Lord now!”


If he wakes up and sees her lying next to him then he won’t kill us.”


I sure hope that is the case.”


What a slick man. He still hasn’t been here for more than a few minutes, and he is already stealing our women.”


They were friends are something.”


I hope what she said was true!”

The swordsmen fall in next to the warehouse. Aamir, the leader, opens the door and six of the boys go inside. The others continue with their conversations. Ander, the first officer says,


We should talk about something else because all of this talk about dying isn’t going to stop it from happening.”


And what do you suggest we talk about?”


Let’s talk about expanding the Kingdom!”


We are not exactly owners of this property anymore.”


Well, we can ask them if we can join their army. Certainly, they won’t kill their own soldiers.”


Look at them! Do you see anybody our age?”


I can see your point. However, this is a different plight. They’ll understand, right?”

The swordsmen, who went inside earlier, are coming out the warehouse. Three of them have two large iron cooking pots. The other three carry some animal meat, which has been salted down to keep it from souring.

Two more of them leave out of formation to get some lumber stacked on the side of the warehouse. Another boy has a tinier pot. He fills it with snow. Three more of them vacate toward the cottages to get some utensils and bowls to eat with.

A big wooden bench is near the Camelots’ recess area. A couple of the Apollo swordsmen go to the bench and attempt to pick it up, but it’s too heavy. Two of the Camelot warriors notice the Apollo swordsmen struggling to pick up the bench. The Camelot warrior does a kind deed. He and two others give them some assistance.

The leaders of the Apollo group watch the Camelot warriors help the Apollo swordsmen.


Do you see that? Why are they helping?”


I guess the Elder was wrong about outsiders. It looks to me like they aren’t that evil.”


I don’t trust them.”

The boys carrying the lumber stack the wood in a circle. They pack rocks around the edges of the wood, so the heat can stay trapped. After the boys are finished packing the wood, they lit a fire. An Apollo Swordsman brings over a pot-holder. He reassembles it over the fire.

A swordsman tosses the animal across the bench. A cook has brought out some kitchen knives. He goes over to the meat and minces it up.

Three Hundred and Sixty Hours Later

Leith has been moved to Elizabeth’s cottage. He hasn’t awakened yet. Like always, she begins her daily routine. She leaves out of the shower, wearing nothing more than a robe made of animal fur. It’s the only brand of clothing, which could keep a person insulated after a cold-freezing-shower. Turning toward the door, she lets her long red hair down. It rides down her back as she slips off her robe.

Without any warning, Leith opens his eyes. Elizabeth doesn’t notice him staring at her. She faces in the opposite direction observing a game the men play with the Apollo teenagers outside. They have a wooden sword-fight.

Cogan has trained the young men well. They are actually winning. The rules of the game are to hit any part of an opponent’s body three times. After three consecutive hits the loser will be hammered out of a turn. The individuals, who have been conquered, have to go sit in a circle behind their team. The next man will take his place. Fifteen teenagers and fifteen Camelot soldiers participate in the game. Spectators, who are not participating, act as an audience cheering the players.

Elizabeth stops watching the game and turns around. She sees Leith’s eyes wide open. They stare at each other for a while. Speaking, he stutters out his words.


What, what is the meaning of this?”

Elizabeth’s bosoms deliciously droop from her chest. They appear to be soft, tender, and sweet enough to bite. She’s not shy about him seeing her that way. She’s not upset about the predicament but doesn’t labor a finger to cover her-self. Leith is a virgin and he seems to be terrified of her. You would believe that a 50-year-old man would have gotten him some already. Ever since he was a little boy, he was trained for fighting and never had a chance to make love to a sweet woman.

Leith murdered many men on the battle-field. However, he never felt the warmth of a female creature. Sometimes, it’s nonsensical on how seconds turns into minutes, hours into days, and days change from months to years. Being a killer is all he ever was accustomed to.

She gives him curtsy and says,


I’m sorry my Lord. I was only trying to keep you warm.”

She bends down and picks her robe up then puts it back on. With the addiction to seduce him, she leaves the robe open on purpose. Elizabeth raises her eyelid and walks toward his direction.


What do you mean my Lord? Who are you?”

Leith has a slight case of amnesia. Stopping halfway to the bed, Elizabeth closes her robe and answers.


You don’t remember me?”


No I don’t?”

Leith expresses his words in an unmannerly tone. Elizabeth cries; she was genuinely younger than him the last time they met, and he doesn’t remember her. Sniffing out her words, she sits down constantly wiping the tears from her eyes.


“We saved your life, and we surrendered like you asked.”

When Leith moves, he feels a sharp pain in his back. His right arm is numb, and it still hasn’t recovered from the blood lost. Covering the cuts on his face, Leith has bandages around his head. In scrutinizing pain, his eyes squint in terror. The more his body comes to life, the more he could feel the-off-set of his injuries.

Reaching over with his left hand, he grabs his right arm. He brings it up to his face. His right arm is too weak for him to lift it on his own. Three of his fingers are missing. His legs are asleep because of him lying in the same position.

Somehow, Leith manages to get his legs out of the bed. Just like his father, his physique is made from a mountain of muscle. Every part of his body bulges. Leith doesn’t wish to upset Elizabeth again, so he discontinues on about who she might be…

His eyes loft into the back of his head as he absorbs the pain existing in all parts of his body, including his head, which is taking in enormous amounts of discomfort. He seems to be enjoying himself.


Oh yea!”

Pushing himself to his feet, he limps toward the door. Leith’s aching kidneys shoot an agonizing pain into his pelvis joint. All those hours of not hydrating properly, and after being physically in the cold for days, the battle with his father’s regiment has put a gigantic toll on Leith’s body. Luckily, he had someone who was willing to spoon feed him. No matter how much his soldiers adore him, none of them, as likely as not, could have performed these certain perks Elizabeth did for him.

Conversely, he still has to figure out what the hell happened. He goes outside and sees teenagers with enemy armor on playing games with his soldiers. On the contrary, the homeless are being fed, and some of the Camelot soldiers help rebuild the city. From the sound of a hammer hitting the roof, and the laughter the men and the boys are having, everything thunderbolts through his mind.

A Long Day Dream

Leith hunts in the woods with his father. He stares up to him, and Cogan smiles back. A younger version of Leith is at his old home in Apollo.

A big warthog is smoked on the table with some chicken legs in a pan next to it. Smiling back at him, his mother sits on the other side. Leith closes his eyes. He’s in the forest with his friend Heron and some of his other childhood comrades.

The boys partake in a wooden sword fight. They have radiant smiles that magnify in his dream. They nod their heads down in an eerie way trying to hint him of something or someone. A white light appears, taking him to another barrier in his mind.

Leith is on his father’s obstacle course. He is delighted about something.


Come on Leith Erickson! Make us Erickson’s proud!”

Leith does a frontwards flip off of the plat-form and lands on his feet. However, when he lands, he’s fifty-one-years-older. Standing in front of him, his father is an old man. Leith tries to stop himself. However, the dream plays on, he does a 360 back spend chopping off his father’s head.

His memory tries to focus. He wants to remember who she is. The white lights come again taking him to a different section of his memory.

Leith is in Apollo-1 where he grew up. Cogan lyes on the ground sideways with an arrow embedded into his chest. Helen, his mother, is lifted into the air on a cross. Iron nails are hammered through her hands and feet. Some of the other women in the village are burnt alive. The cottages are in a blaze.

Leith is in chains with the rest of the village people. The enemy soldiers pull Leith, and the other prisoners out of the gate. Leith closes his eyes.

Blaming his father about what happened, Leith’s in the forest. He hopes someone could help them. When he turns his head one of the elders from his village throws an axe at an enemy soldier. The hatchet sinkers into the man’s neck gashing his head open. Splattering into Leith’s face, some of the man’s warm blood skirts from his open neck wound.

The enemy-soldiers take them pass the Fear-archers on the other side of the forest. Leith glances back for the last time. He will never forget the sight of the elder hovering inches from the foundation with more than one-hundred arrows piercing through his body.

Leith and the rest of the survivors are being pulled through the Normfee-Desert. The sand cooks their feet. It’s at an immense flaming temperature. The conditions are unhealthy, especially when their bodies are dehydrated from the long hours of walking through the hot sand.

Their victors aren’t managing their captives fairly. The captures haven’t given the captives anything to eat or drink in the last forty-eight-hours. The sun powered rays blinds them to death even when they are not looking directly into it. Everyone has to keep their eyes close and follow the leader.

Sand dispersing from the caravan’s horses, flurry out a thick patch of dust, which smothers the POW’s in the back. Leith breathes through his mouth because his nose can’t take anymore punishment.

The assembly moves at horrendous speeds. Every step the prisoners take gets harder to bear. The people are falling behind in the back. Everyone is forced to carry an extra load. Glancing back for a split second, Leith quickly calculates the tug of the falling appeaser. A pregnant lady in the last row yanks on the rope, slowing everyone down.

A man with a long leather whip constantly hits her. When she pulls away from the others, the soldier slashes her back. Her skin’s purely bruised and her eyes are bleeding out. Leith knows how she feels because he has been hit in the head a few times with the whip. Nevertheless, even those few hits burn and sting; the lacerations afterwards hurt horribly as the prisoners cook in the smoldering fumes of the hot sun and sand.

The pregnant lady can’t take the punishment any longer. She falls to the blistering sand. The slow trot from the horses damn near pulls his shoulder out of socket. She’s dragged face first on the hot granite.

The front chariot slows down and a man on the chariot yells out,



The horses slow down to a lingering hurry. Everyone catches his or her breath. The dust in the air settles on the perimeters of the slave caravan, but not by much. The leader jumps out of the Chariot. He slides his sword from out of its case. Leith can’t read English. However, he will never forget those letters saturated into the man’s breastplate; on all of the enemies’ breastplates. This was the first English word Leith ever interpreted correctly and even his pronunciation is accurate: F-E-A-R. Walking toward the pregnant lady, the leader creeps toward her.

Segments of her skin and face have been torn off because of the whip hitting her, and the force of the caravan’s haul dragging her face first through the dirt. Lying on the hot scorching sand, she’s bleeding through every pore in her body. Somehow, she pushes herself to her knees. She has been battered to a bloody mash.

The lady pleads for mercy in her native tongue,


Ben je nu tevreden? het doet pijn en het heeft mij gekwetst, maar ik zal doen wat jij wilt. k ben zwanger en jij hebt mij gekwetst, maar ik zal doen wat JIJ wilt!!”

Her voice is weak. However, her words are understood. Like everybody else from their village, Leith is zoned in to what she was saying. None of the prisoners will ever forget this conversation because these will be her last words. Without warning, the leader raises his sword and slices both the lady’s hands off separating them from her wrist. When she hits the ground, the blistering red sand swiftly fills in the bleeding stubs on her arms. The lady screams terribly loud,



Hurrying back to the front of the Caravan, the leader wipes his sword on his leg and puts it back in its holster. The caravan leaves the sliced up lady in the middle of the hot desert. She disappears in the trail of sand behind them. Her parted-hands are stuck in the shackles, and one of them falls out meters away from her execution site. The other hand stays attached. It gets dragged in the sand behind the caravan. Leith closes his eyes.

They have brought the prisoners to a slave trafficking market. Leith’s on his knees with a bunch of other different races of people brought from all around Minaera. None of the slaves are from his village. Nevertheless, being in a kneeling position bestows relief to the sores festering on the bottom of his feet.


“You are given one more chance not to be defiant.”

The guard pushes Leith to the ground. Leith pushes himself back to his knees.

Even when Leith saw what they did to that poor pregnant lady in the Normfee Desert, he still doesn’t break his resistance. However, it slows it down a bit giving him room to think about acting badly again. Leith makes his decision,

Translating from this point on…


    “You killed my mother and father! I’ll get my revenge on you! You bastards shouldn’t even be on this planet!”

He continues to yell. A guard on stage next to Leith becomes a victim of his attempted revenge. Jumping toward the man, and pulling the man’s dagger from his belt, Leith jabs a hole into the other man’s leg. However, Leith’s feet are bruised, his arms are weak, and his body cramps up because of the agonizing four day trip. He doesn’t have the energy to stand.

Tucking his head between his legs, he holds the knife out in a guarded position. The fear soldier reaches down and takes the knife from Leith. The guard, who Leith poked, cuts Leith’s rope loose from the others. He drags Leith off stage by the hair.

The audience isn’t concerned about the violence onstage. They continue to have conversations, and some are clapping except for one person. Weird carnival music plays in the background. It’s a festival are something. A prince sitting in the middle of the crowd gets up and follows them backstage.

The guard forces Leith to stand to his feet. Before the guard can reach for his dagger the prince sneaks up behind him and grabs his wrist. It’s the younger version of Lord Matchbox the 1st-Leith’s first Lord. Prince Matchbox the 1st is in his 30’s.


    “I’ll take him.”

The guard grips the boy’s neck tightly.


“Oh my… What bad manners you have.”


This salvage boy cut me with my own dagger. He doesn’t listen to directions. He has no price. Mr… Leave us be, so we can get this over with.”

The prince doesn’t listen.


“Do you know who I am?”

The guard replies,


I don’t honestly know who you are, and I really don’t care. Do you know who I am?”

The prince jokingly replies with a big smile on his face.


Amusing… I truly do like playing guessing games. However, I can’t come up with a straight answer. Can you fill me in?”

The guard jerks his hand away and put’s the dagger to Leith’s throat. The prince is offended by the guard’s actions. Getting in a defensive position, the prince backs away, and pulls out his sword.


“We are Fear! We’re the ones who you should be afraid of when you go to sleep. If your country falls under the shadows, then we’ll be the ones who’ll take the survivors. The women, children, and old will all become someone’s servant. Every kingdom comes to an end. Be-careful what you say to me now because your kingdom might be getting a communication letter, and when you do, it’ll be impeded with terror.”

Leith bites a chunk of the guards arm off. He spits the remains on the ground. The guard reacts by throwing Leith into the prince’s direction.

The Fearian gets angry and charges them. Prince Matchbox rapidly reaches his sword out aiming it toward the guard’s neck. Luckily, the guard stops before the sword goes through his esophagus tube.


You coward…This is between me and him.”

Directing his attention to the boy…


Just walk away. I believe you had enough for today. Go play with your other friends. I’m sorry, I missed pronounced that; your Fearians. I hope you understand because of your rude behavior, I’m taking this one on the house.”

The Fearian turns around and walks into the other direction. He seems to be having a nervous breakdown. Picking up an empty wheel barrel, the Fearian throws it into one of the tents.



    “Now that’s childish.”

The Prince bends down prompting Leith to get on his back.


    “Well, come now. Get on… Do you want me to leave you here? It seems our friend has some unfinished business with you. Would you like him to come back?”

Leith has no more options. He can’t walk, and he can barely see. Plus, an angry Fearian wants to slice him ear-to-ear.

Leith gets on the prince’s back. The prince carries him toward a group of Camelot soldiers. This is when he remembers Elizabeth. She is carried passed him. Some maidens from a different sovereignty have her. They are dressed in white and blue garments. The little girl’s red hair blows in the wind as she leaves his sight. He can’t help her. They glance at each other for one last time. She reaches out to him. Leith puts his head on the Prince’s shoulder and falls to sleep.


Leith says to Elizabeth,


Can it be you?”

Elizabeth briefly looks up to him hiding her face under her red hair. He limps back to the bed and sits down next to her.


How could this be?”

Leith never cried this much before. First he had to kill his father because he asked him to. He doesn’t use these types of emotions much. Elizabeth and Leith eyes pore out tears.


I am confused. I never felt this before. It’s worse than getting an arrow stuck in my shoulder.”

His lungs race for air. He speaks in a low ton, not because of his injuries, but because his lungs are racing full of human emotions. Elizabeth finally gets the nerves to reply.


    “Are you going to kill us?”


I will never do that.”


Why did you murder your father?”


He asked me to.”

Leith sits on the edge of the bed. Elizabeth puts her soft hand on his face, her touch makes him elastic. He never imagined that he would ever be alone with a beautiful woman, let alone in the same bed with a long lost friend. When she kisses his lips, he begins to hear voices and see prismatic images of her cousin and their friends in the forest. This is the best sensation anyone can ever have on this world, considering that these images were repressed in his mind for a long time.

He wants this as much as she does. He kisses her back. Clutching her shoulders, he drags her closer. She nearly dies in his arms. Her smell is mystical. She has always been a beautiful creature, and since she was a child, her red hair made her stand out from the other village-girls. However, Leith needs to get stronger. She helps him back into bed, and tucks him under the warm covers. They kiss until they fall to sleep.

The Confinement Massacre


“If any one of you can explain to me why I shouldn’t exterminate you. Please verbalize your appeal! If you can’t tell me anything then you die! If I don’t like what you have to say, then you die! At least you get to plea your case! Since, I am king now. I’ll decide to kill you or not. However, I am not a bad person, so I’ll give you some options on how you should die!”

In confinement by Leith’s father, criminals stand in the court yard out in the snowy weather. Leith is now the new Lord, and he has to clean out the jail before he goes back to Camelot. If not, the prisoners will die of starvation.


You all are subject to die. However, you will be given some options!”

Leith’s desk is set up like an outdoor admin-office. Sitting on the bench where they usually cut up the meat, Leith is behind a desk made from logs. At his right front, further away from the desk standing in a circle, swordsmen with their swords upholstered are waiting for a prisoner to choose their territory. Furthermore, they don’t look friendly.

On the opposite corner by a wall, archers stare at a newly designed shooting gallery. What is the most amusing part about this form of entertainment is the hanging galleries in the center of town instantly put together. The hanging gallery is flimsy. Nevertheless, it does an okay job. One prisoner, who was used as a test, swings back and forth on the rope, lifeless. He’s hung from his neck. Luckily the big hot pot of boiling broth feeding the people in the village is occupied. Some of the teenagers are administering portions to the villagers. If a prisoner is let go or joins the Camelot Army, they also get a portion of the broth.


You’ll be given four choices. (1) Die-by-hanging. (2) Die by getting shot with arrows. The Camelot Archer’s have excellent aim, so you will die quickly. (3) Get chopped up into pieces. (4) Join my army! It doesn’t pay well, but it’s a good job. You’ll live longer, until the next battle. Send the first candidate!”

The first man comes up to the desk. Chains are on his arms and legs. He is a heavy set guy who appears confused about what’s going on. The prisoners are well mannered and none of them fight the guards. The man walks up to the desk by himself. He wears rags, a torn-up shirt, and some pants rotten to shorts.


Take them off! I don’t want to see anyone in shackles!”

The warrior takes the keys out of his pocket and tries all of them until it opens. Adrenaline rushes through the prisoner’s arms. For someone that has been living off rats and rain water for the last decade of his life, he seems to be well-built. The man stands in front of the table and huffs-and-puffs.


What have you done? Why are you here?”


I stole some meat from the market. We were hungry.”

He speaks English. The guy continues.


(crying) “I was only trying to feed my dyeing wife. No one could protect her, and our children. I have no idea where they went. She probably passed away when I was in prison. She was really sick the last time I saw her.”

Leith has heard enough.


You may leave this city, stay here if you like, or you can try joining my army! Whatever, you desire. You’re free.”

The man falls to his knees. It’s like a huge weight has been relieved from his shoulders.


“Give him some food and new clothes. Send the next prisoner!”

Elizabeth orders the teenagers to help the free-man. They bring him a bowl of soup.

The next prisoner comes up. He is dressed in nothing but rags.


What have you done?”

He’s skinny and one of his hands has been chopped off.


I raped my son.”

Leith laughs, when the man begins to laugh, he suddenly stops.


“Take him to the swordsmen!”

Two workers grab him and bring him over to the swordsmen’s circle. The skinny man fights for his life.


No… not that! I want a hanging. I didn’t choose this!”


“You sick son of a bitch.”

Two other prisoners come up to the desk. They have a mysterious awe about them. They are human like. However, with no hair on their bodies and their pelts are dark green.


What the hell are you?

They don’t answer. They stare at Leith for a few seconds.


“You are given a chance like everyone else! What did you do?”

One of the green-men answers,


“We did nothing wrong. We were captured in the woods by your father.”

The green-man has a strait plain tone. His voice doesn’t have an accent. More like a computerized tone. Leith is surprised because none of the prisoners were told Cogan was his father.




We know everything about you. I’m Eloving the Prince of the Odxithon Empire. Do you remember the stories? Most of them are true. We were leisurely walking through the mountains’ gathering medicine for my sick father. We were not worried because no human ever came up in the mountains before. When I bent down to pick up some herbs then out of nowhere archers came from behind the saplings. When we ran in the opposite direction your father was in front of us. He clobbered us over the head and chopped off our tails.”

He raises his shirt. He shows everyone his hacked off tail bone. It’s enlarged, and the bump on it swings back and forth.


How could this be?”

The creature puts his shirt back down.


If you kill us then you’ll be annoyance a curse. Do you want this on your people heads? Your father made his choice.”


Don’t talk about my father like that! It wasn’t a curse that killed him! Now I’m not going to harm you! You didn’t commit a crime, so I’ll give you some food and horses so you can get back to your habits! Where ever the fuck you’re from.”

The man who the workers took to the swordsmen’s circle cries out.


    “Stop! How could you? I have a choice! Not like this… Please, reconsider.”

The swordsmen commence to hack the skinny man up, he gets muffled out.

The Odxithon are an alien race who was believed to be the natives of Minaera. The humans, on the other hand, were said to be brought to Minaera by them. The legends foretold a story about big medal-ships that fly and hide in the dark on the cold side of the planet deep in the mountains where no army dares to go. If a soldier tries to enter the mountains’ paths, he or she will be eaten alive by strange creatures, or die from blizzards or avalanches.


Thank you but we don’t need horses. Just let us go free, and give us some of that soup.”


Only one condition…”


What is it?”


If I’m ever captured in your kingdom then show me the same respect!”

Eloving nods his head. The green men go toward the hot pot taking off their clothing. When fully undress, their naked bodies are inhuman. The green men have hind legs of horses, and their movements are extremely sharp. One of the teenage boys gives Eloving a scorching hot bowl of soup and, the other Odxithon. When the two Odxithon takes the soup they gulp it down without even thinking about the temperature. Their bodies are muscularly thin. The heat from the water smokes off their six-packs.


“Can we have another one?”

The boy gives them some more, and they do the exact same thing. They gulp the hot boiling soup down.

Everyone, including the prisoners stare as these two mysterious creatures strolling around as if they were creatures of the mist. After the fifth serving, they begin to trot in circles. Gradually, the two green men begin to move in a springy motion. They instigate a terrible yowl.





    It’s the worst noise that anyone of them could ever imagine. The soldiers cover their ears trying to block out the terrible noise. The creatures begin to push each other. The tempestuous activity builds up their anger. After they seem to be good and irritated, the creatures run out of the gate at a full speed and disappear into the night.

Four Hundred and Eight Hours Later

A half a year passed and it’s time for the Camelot army to go back to the Camelots check-point. Some of the Camelot’s were ordered to stay in the village, and they are actually pleased for not having to go back through the harsh environment. Standing outside the front-gate, Elizabeth is dressed in thick ice-bear-fur. The polar bear exists in this world. It’s probably the only creature that rather be on the ice and eat plumb seals, like the other dangerous animals that swim beneath the frozen ocean floor than bother with any human affairs.

Leith comes from out of the cottage in full uniform. He goes to Elizabeth and kisses her. He expresses his feelings.


    “I still have my duty to the Camelot people. The new Lord will understand once I tell him. However, I have a new people now. I’ll be back in the summer.”


You don’t have to go. Please stay. You’re our King now.”


And you are my Queen. Take care; I promise you. I’ll come again!”

They kiss one more time then Leith climbs on his horse. Elizabeth wipes the tears from her eyes. That is the last image he sees of her. He gallops out and his army follows behind him.




Halo Written By Daton L. Fluker ps: Donate to Earthquake Victims in Japan



Written by

Daton L.Fluker

Inspired by Beyonce’s version of Halo

It restates over in my mind like a recorded absorbent.

It’s a starving but humble sound.

Ordinances are broken for the core and tension of gravity.

I now know that God built me not to fall to this.

Who will believe the energy if you do not feel it?

The drive burns off roof tops.

Center pieces move to the left and fall off table tops from the blast.

Mountain tops are blown off from the vibrations the sound produces.

The sea dries up, evaporates, and makes rain clouds from the energy of the light.

The minute and hour hand stop as the seconds continue to unfold.

Battles cease and men run to hide from the pinnacles of its voice.

Dreams and birthrights are lost in snow, sleet, and hell from its pollution.

Can you feel the light, can you see the energy, can you hear the Halo?

Streaks of transonic booms slice like laser blades observing the silence.

The night appears like day, and the darkest things we can imagine lie tumbled in its aftershocks.

The color became my favorite color.

Dust from the moon sweeps the sky, while bits and fragments fall to Earth floating on the noise.

Earth has a heart attack from its presence, and the middle stops for a few seconds.

Can you not feel the light, can you not see the energy, can you not hear the Halo?

It is a big brother to us all, and it embraces our wildest imaginations.

Coldness is felt in my skin and an infirm dept has stolen all my coins.

Something tells us to stop but something commands us to go forward.

The energy evicts transistors off their axis.

Thunder hits its walls. However, thunder, rocks, and lava get trapped in its cells and is absorbed in its power.

You will feel the light. You will see the energy, and you will hear the Halo.

You might turn your noise up and walk away from everyone you meet and never speak to the indifferent.

However, you will see the angels. You will not deny the energy, and you will breathe in the Halo.


Comment on Facebook: Halo on Facebook


Please donate to Earthquake victims in Japan here on Groupon.: http://www.groupon.com/deals/international-medical-corps

Sincerely, Daton L. Fluker

Cristal Carter Beats

Cristal Carter is one of my ongoing Skype cronies, and she has some stupendous talent, which sets her aside from other music artists. She has an uncharted dialect, which she describes fluently in her beats. If you are a music artist struggling to find a Master Beat designer then I highly suggest collabing with Cristal. Young and brilliant, her work and her motivation, to never stop, drives the internal psyche. The resonance of her beats influences creativity. Give it a try and view some samples on her site: www.RocBattle.com/CristalCarter or www.DirtyScopeBeatz.com/CristalCarter.

I sourly believe that artist should continue to grow their abilities by going to school to pursue new objectives. Being more informed will allow an artist to get through resilient times. Even if you have extraordinary talent, the industry is obscene, and will eat your time and patients alive. I believe artist have a better chance at creating their own net-works, along with developing profession suitable to get them through droughts.

Working with young people like Cristal will help mature new talents along with giving many a chance to work with special genius people. Cristal has her own net work of artists, which will explode in the industry.

Time is of the essence, and the world is rousting on new talent. One thing that I developed over the years is my ability to write. I enjoy writing novels and desire to make greater archives. That is two things every company needs, may it be in the music industry, in any advertisement corporations, book companies, or media establishments, they will require good writers, and good music producers. Believe me, not everyone carries these skills. It’s wonderful to have them, and it helps with getting me through my college classes. When working on large projects, patients are a virginity, which will carry you to the other side. However, remember patients isn’t the only thing that will skin the cat. Other things learned in life will be needed on your journey and sometimes other individuals will hold the keys to your success. Work together or work forever.

Have a wonderful day.





PS: Always love Cristal Carter Beats




Camelot Dimension 360 Chapter 3 written by Novelist, Daton L. Fluker


The Long Winter

Written by Author

Daton L Fluker

Flemish Translation done by

Kenyo Wells

PRESS TO GO BACK TO Camelot Dimension 360 Chapter Selection


Fearful of his own fate, our juvenile Lord is unaware of the consequences for his kingdom’s future. The events that have taken place in the last few years could botch anyone’s thoughts except for a Lord.

Anything a Lord does is supposed to be done for the gracious hands of Trilyonois. Trilyonois is the name of their Creator, and like our Creator Trilyonois is the only creator, however, for a few mystifications.

“Ignorance to the touch… Light and pain with a darken soul want hurt so much. As I wish that this was love. I would fall under the enemies’ blades and die of Trilyonois’s touch. Before I surrender, I shall fall with a million cuts.”

A prayer soldiers utter before they walk onto any battlefield. They’ll give their lives.

Like in Trilyonois Kingdom–similar to the Kingdom of Heaven–a person will be at peace. Wars subsist for him and her. He or she will be with loving friends and family members for the rest of their eternal lives. If he or she cowers away from any battle for their spirit, they’ll have to serve Lord Spolylosys in the Black Kingdom doing continuous battles with other Dark Lords.

Everyone has to become a soldier. They must kill at least one hundred men before he or she dies to reach the Kingdom of Trilyonois. Women who decide to become mothers will only follow the path which her husband precedes. Her husband must kill 100 men for her, and 100 men for every child they produce.

No matter how you prune the edges, there will still be wars after death. A warrior must do battle in Lord Spolylosys’s black kingdom, or serve his or her Lord by amassing large body counts on Minaera.

Town Hall is an empty unfurnished room except for one person sitting alone staring into the darkness. Lord Matchbox doesn’t convey to any particular moments. Conversely, he gleams into a speculation of what happened during the blizzard. The royal families resting place is in one of the far corners of the room. The covers are rosy-red made of the finest silks and satins.

The old Lord and Lord Matchbox’s mother were forced to sleep with the commoners. Everyone in Town Hall–during the blizzard–witness madness in the front room, which could cause anyone to ratter into insaneness.

The doors are closed and the indifferent temperatures char icicles through the king’s ice bitten veins. The covers are filthy with the dirty immoral acts of his father.

Lord Matchbox shivers, not because of the coldness, he shivers from the lunacy he saw in its walls. The void invites him to a lanky slumber. He topples down into his chair avoiding from sleeping over there. He closes his eyes.


Clear buoyant hours-of-darkness sooth the broken-hearts of the Camelot People. They move toward a shooting star falling in the east. This part of Minaera has not revolved in the sun’s direction yet.

A light far off on the other side of the planet guides the travelers through this treacherous darkness. Their destination point is about 500,000 miles away.

The crowds carry their injured family members and soldiers. They held defense against an increasing opponent who follows them throughout a monotonous pass in a nearby valley.

A broke-off arrow sticks out of an Archer’s eye socket. It plunges through the eye socket reaching from out of the back of his head. He didn’t want anyone to pull it out; somebody broke it off at its heel. The archer coughs up blood begging his brother, who helps carry him.


“I can’t take this anymore. Trilyonois will accept me in his kingdom if you take my life brother. This is the worst pain I can ever feel. I need you to kill me. I can’t do this by myself.”

His voice weakens. Warm blood splatters out every time he speaks. His wife carries him from his other side with their baby son sacked across her back. His brother replies,


“You can’t ask me to do this relentless deed. Please fight it brother. It shall get better.”

The archer throws up his guts trying to say what his wife is now yelling at his brother.


“He is your brother! Don’t be a coward! Kill him now! He shouldn’t suffer like this!”

They break formation. The Camelot citizens walk forward not stopping to help except for one horse trotting out from behind the formation. The archer sits down while his brother and wife linger over him. His baby son cries. Many babies cry from out of the multitude of people moving toward the checkpoint.

Prince Matchbox witnesses the whole thing. He is the man on the horse. The respiration from his horse changes to a smoky-bleached-gray. Reaching forward, he unbuckles the sword from his belt handing it to them.


“Take my sword! Minaera is our planet, and Trilyonois will accept this. (yelling) Take my sword! It’s a sad day for all of us, but our army has won the battle.”

He directs his attention to the archer.


“You’ll make it to the city of light brother. I promise you sir; you haven’t lost your life in vein.”

Tears peal from the Archer’s brother’s eyes as he walks over to the prince retrieving the prince’s weapon.

The Archer lies on the ground bracing his head in his wife’s lap. Pulling his hand behind her, she allows him to touch his son for the last time.


“I love you. I always have, since we were children. Touch him. Touch your son. There is so much more we need to do together. We had such a good time all these years. Please, I can’t see you suffer anymore.”

She screams at his brother.


“What are you waiting for? Do it now!”

His brother’s face changes to a psychopathic impression. Adrenaline races through his stomach. Fear butterflies throughout his conked out body. He raises the sword. Water rolls down his face as he stares into the last scriptures of his brothers living eyes.

The handle of the sword is cold, and his fingers are frozen. He screams,



He falls to the ground stabbing the prince’s sword through his brother’s chest.

What Should Be Done About this Attack?

Duke Johnstown, Duke Flasksen, Duke Belgran, Duke Lebelton, Duke Norchin, and Lord Matchbox the First, Prince Matchbox’s father pose around the table inside Town Hall. They discuss the surprise attack on the villagers.

It’s dark inside. Succinct moonlight bores into Town Hall’s open windows.

When the Camelot population made it to the checkpoint, nothing was standing except for Town Hall. They rebuild from the only resources and tools they have.

The enlisted men take their weapons digging out holes to use the dirt to construct mud cottages. Even the archers use the heads of their arrows to pick into the pit of the soil.

A younger version of the Mayor walks around with his magnificent loud voice. He screams at the soldiers,


“Get those lumbers moving over there in stacks… Dig faster. The quicker we move, the faster we can get some sleep and defend against the appending army.”

His voice is loud enough that the people in Town Hall can clearly hear everything he is saying. Lord Matchbox the first orders one of the servants.


“Close that window. My head throbs because of the sound of his voice.”

Prince Matchbox sits at the table doing this year’s tax policies. The taxes have to be lowered to one percent. There’s no gold flowing through the city. The civilians are not paying their taxes on time.

If Prince Matchbox knew what was going to take place in the next few months then he would tear those papers up right now.

The Lord discusses the current issues with the Dukes.


“The people need a new source of encouragement. We should send our army to defend the attacking force in the valley. What does my staff suggest?”

Lord Matchbox the First sits back and listens to their dispute. He is an old man, and he and his wife are deeply ill. His decision-making is clouded by his ailment. Tucked under the royal bed sheets, the queen lies in the corner of the room.


“Sir, if you don’t mind me insisting, this would be a terrible mistake. We don’t have that much food, and we need the rest of our resources for the long winter. If we portion this with the army, we shall-surly starve to death.”


“He is right my Lord. What’ll we do if we run out of sustenance?”


“Are you all mad? What’ll happen if 3,000 enemy archers come from out of the woods? We already lost a lot of civilians to this minor attack. Can’t you see the Lord is right to defend our people?”


“Excluding the circumstances, what will we eat? I love war just like everyone else, but what if we run out of things to consume? What is that we should feast on? We will surely starve if we go on with this wreak vengeance battle. Can’t we just consider that we lost and leave it at that?”


“How I see this, is that, Lord Matchbox is right. Furthermore, the argument about not having enough sustenance to feast on is merely something to be careful with. Equally important, if we don’t give the army sufficient food then they can’t have a successful assault. No matter how we go about this, it’s still a decision only Lord Matchbox can decide.”



“This is lunacy! No matter what decision is made, we’ll be killing those who are in misfortune! It’s a poison to the enthusiasm that our feathered nation has to occur.”


“It’s true Lord Matchbox. Please lead your homeland. Whatever you decide, we’ll standby the verdict one hundred percent.”

Lord Matchbox the 1st leans toward the table.


“I have decided.” (Coughing)


“Split half of the resources with our army and send them to battle. We can rebuild another army if we make it to another sunrise.”

The Dukes stand and shout,


“All hail Lord Matchbox! We’ll defend our honor in his name and the borders of Camelot!”


“Please sit down men. We’ll eat before we give the word to the army.”

He turns and stares at Prince Matchbox.


“My son, please go outside and make a progress report. Once you’re finished, come back and eat with us. We’ll study everything later.”

Prince Matchbox stands up and slams his paperwork on the table and replies in a mocking tone.


“Yes my Lord!”

Everyone laughs and chats. The noise drowns out through the walls.

He opens the door and walks outside.

Outside Town Hall

The people who are in good condition assemble new sleeping quarters for the village. The children help pack mud and melted ice.

The architects build a cottage, and the village chiefs create a place where they can cook food.

The individuals responsible for melting the ice use tinier pots to liquidize it. The warm water packages the mud. Boiling next to the incomplete hill, a big pot of broth feeds everyone in the village.

What makes Prince Matchbox query, is the dead laying in the middle of everything, and sick and hurt soldiers bathing in pain. Some of the living and dead soldiers have missing body parts.

He doesn’t want to go back into Town Hall. Too many problems going on outside and selfishness isn’t one of the Prince’s virtues. He couldn’t sleep at night knowing most of the villager’s lost love ones in the battle.

Mystified about his father’s decision to go to war, Prince Matchbox holds his position on the subject. He doesn’t want his illogical reasoning getting the best of him.

Too many sick and hurt people expand around the city. If the legends are right, the summer is not going to be at this checkpoint until three to five more years.

Prince Matchbox walks over to the working townspeople. He helps them with their chores. One of the hurt soldiers recognizes Prince Matchbox. He yells-out,


“Sir, please don’t! Let me take your place!”

Wrapped up with some old clothes, the soldier gash wound on his thigh bleeds out. He tries to stand up but it has been split wide open.


“Stay there. I want to do this.”

The wounded soldiers yell out,


“All hail Prince Matchbox!”

The other soldiers shout showing their appreciation.

I Can’t Love you because I’m a Prince

A year has passed. The Army hasn’t made it back yet. Prince Matchbox and one of the servants, not in her quarters, are too cautious not to bring their activities to the attention of Lord Matchbox’s father.

The labor for the day is completed. The villagers stand in a circle around a partial finished cottage. They pray for more food. Resources are running out.

Everyone knows about the prince’s and the young lady’s love for each other, except for the royal family. Making out on the out skirts of town, Prince Matchbox and Elaine are wrapped up in a blanket lying in the snow. Let’s face the facts, there really isn’t that many young single women in the population.

Elaine is young, slender, and has long red hair. She admires the prince’s masculinity. Their body heat keeps them comfortable, nevertheless, not enough for their bodies to stay balmy. The snow constantly falls.

Her breast feels soft, and his hard body pierces her heart. She goes under the cover and kisses on the mammillae pecks on his chest.

Her warm breath exhausts every nerve under his skin. He holds her, and she can feel him penetrating inside her. She screams out,


“Oh Prince Matchbox. That’s wonderful, don’t stop!”


“You’re so beautiful Elaine. I’m glad you came with me tonight!”

Her hair is so long. It’s it feels funny rubbing against his chest.


(putting her finger on his lips)

“Shush. Don’t say anything. Baby, it’s wonderful this way.”

Taking her finger off his lip, Elaine shoves her tongue deep into his mouth reaching for the back of his tonsils.

He grabs her young bottom. She rubs it on him. They are not just making-out. They make passionate love through the cold strict darkness.

Inside Town Hall before the Giant Blizzard

A riot disperses outside. A crowd of hungry people are angry because Lord Matchbox won’t do anything about their starving nation.

Famished from the weeks of vigorous malnutrition, it causes everyone to experience empty-bellies. Snow falls on everything. Family members died from starvation.

Lord Matchbox, Prince Matchbox, Queen Matchbox, and five other servants are trapped inside Town Hall. They have nailed boards to the doors; the people outside want to get to its core.

Duke Johnstown, Duke Flasksen, Duke Belgran, Duke Lebelton, and Duke Norchin are leading the crowd. They yell at the doors.


“We voted with the people and everyone has decided that we don’t want to stay under your rule anymore. You’re purely not a good leader to follow.”


“The men and women, including their children who are loyal to you, will be used as a source of sustenance. We elected a vote not to scorch you out. We want you to starve to death like you’re starving your own countrymen!”


“We hired a Passing Tory from the Kingdom of Anthropophagus. Look out to the Hill Duke Matchbox!”

Lord Matchbox glances out of the window. The people are fighting. Everyone inside Town Hall–the Queen, Lord Matchbox the First, Prince Matchbox and the five servants in the room–witness madness happening outside the window.

Prince Matchbox holds Elaine close to him. He needs the comfort. Elaine and him cry because of the people who are brought to the front.

They have no morals. The room is cold, so they have an excuse to cuddle. However, servants and royalty are forbidden to mix.

The people who are on the hill are the family members of the archer. The archer, who Prince Matchbox witnessed die by the hands of his brother. His brother’s wife and his two year old nephew hands are tied up.

The mother stares at the blacken window as if she knows they are staring back. It’s difficult to see anyone’s face because of the nightshade.

The Passing Tory holds the two-year old boy over hot boiling water high above the his head. The mother tries to pull away from the ropes holding her in place but nothing she could do. He throws the boy in the white-hot water. Prince Matchbox screams,


“No. You son of a bitch, you should die. I’ll kill you.”

Lord Matchbox the first says to the servants in the room,


“Hold him!”

Trying to run out of the door, they hold him back. If he was successful in escaping, he would have been captured by the mob outside.

Soon as the boy hit the scalding-water his uncle and mother were gutted alive by the two swordsmen outside. The Dukes of the village did nothing to stop it. They were as much a part of these murders as the rest of the villagers.

Would Anyone Volunteer or Do I Have to Choose?

The royal family and the servants establishes around the room staring at each other. One-month has passed and the royal family and the servants have witnessed the killing of four families.

Losing their manners, everyone in the room is hungry. The sovereignty cuddles up with the common wealth during the cold nights. Prince Matchbox and Elaine stand on the opposite side of the room. The Lord and the Queen sit at the front of the table.

Everybody stomachs have turned inside-out. Having mixed feelings about each other, one of the servants walks over to the Lord and hands him something.

Prince Matchbox doesn’t get it, and he’s too hungry to care. Lord Matchbox the First hides the item in his long sleeve.

After hours of bewilderment the Lord speaks,


“We’re not going to get anywhere like this. We have to decide.”

Everybody in the room seems to know what he’s talking about except for Elaine and Prince Matchbox. The other servants didn’t let her stay in their circle after running out of food a month ago.

The cupboards are empty, the servants are restless, and no more regulations are between the two groups.


“We should have fun with this. Why should we spoil this good time with doing nothing? Since we can’t draw straws then we’ll need a volunteer, or shall I choose?”

It’s hard to see because of the dim lighting from candles burning around the room. Barely perceiving each other’s actions, Elaine wants to impress his father because she believes that she could gain his trust. She blurts out.


“I volunteer Sir.”

At first, no one knew who spoke because her voice is so unearthly elegant. Only one commonly fair lady is in the room. She says something to confirm their amazement.


“It is I. What would you like me to do my Lord?”

Prince Matchbox is concerned because he knows his father’s sneaky intentions.



The prince holds her back.


“What is the meaning of this father? What are you asking her to do exactly?”


“Its entertainment my son, please don’t spoil the foolery. Now let her go so she can take her position.”

Allowing her to engage in his father’s happenings, she goes over to the lord and curtsy to him and then the Queen.


“My Lord.”

She pauses for a second.


“What would you like me to do my Lord?”

No doubt in her mind that he is a kind man. However, his son thinks differently of him because of his father’s cheerfulness. The prince knows his father’s ministrations, but not his true attentions.


“My dear, please, lay on the table.”

Without any dispute, she proceeds to lie on the table. The wood freezes to her back, but she recommence lying there trying her best to please the Lord. The Queen spreads Elaine’s red hair out.


“You’re so beautiful. Now dear, stay still.”

The Lord’s face shifts from sugary to impractical in less than a second, saying to the other servants.


“Grab him!”

They run toward the Prince holding him into place. However, even if he would have broken free, he would have been too late.

His father lifts his arm and drops the knife toward her neck slicing it open. Three of the servants hold the prince in place, while the remaining one helps his father undress her.



“Father!!! What have you done?”


“It’s for the best. We’re starving to death. It comes down to survival of the fittest my son. Nothing we could do about it now. The deed is done. She volunteered for it.”


“You son of a bitch! You killed her!”

Prince Matchbox breaks free and goes to his father. A frail old man sits in front of him. No matter how much he wants revenge for this. He knows deep down in his gut that his father is right.

What else can they eat? Except for the rotten roaches on the floor, no bugs are in the corridors because it is too cold for them to multiply.

Prince Matchbox gets on the table hugging and kissing on Elaine’s dying body while they disrobe her.


“Give me the knife!”

Two of the servants get some wooden dishes from out of the cupboard in a miniature galley.

His father hands him the knife. Right before the Prince stabs the knife deep into Elaine’s chest, he says to her.


“I’ll always love you.”

Closing her eyes, he guts her open and sticks his hands inside of her open chest cavity. Her flesh flaps over as he cuts for her heart. Her blood drains under the table.

He pulls her heart out. It’s still beating. Picking up one of the wooden bowls the servants have placed around the table, he puts her heart into it. He sits at the table and commences to eat it raw.

Everybody goes in, sticking their hands into her open chest filling their dishes with her organs.


Finding himself curled up on the floor with his body wrapped around the foot of his thrown, Lord Matchbox wakes up out of a nightmarish sleep. He doesn’t want to get up, but he doesn’t want to go back to sleep either. He lays there with his eyes open.

A Brand New Arising, Playing with Daddy

The new Duke helps workers cultivate the frozen ground in the area where the farm will be. When the spring comes the ice will melt; tilling the soil is suitable for this type of weather.

The sun comes out installing an evening shadow. It’s the most beastly thing omitted in this type of weather. Oh, what fairness it holds within its beams.

Making snowballs, the Duke’s daughter packs some snow in her palms. While the workers are not paying-attention, she rises up and stalks her father and the rest of them.

They are hard at work as she tracks them from a few meters away from her hiding-spot. She holds a snowball aiming it toward a worker. Throwing it at her father, she picks up more snow. Everybody laughs at her except for her father; he’s upset. He yells,


“Ice Princess. Come here!”

Running after her, the Duke is too fast. He catches her and throws her to the soft ground. He tosses some snow in her face.

Asking for his mother the whole night, her younger brother sleeps alone. He doesn’t understand where his mother went.

Her father tickles his snow princess and says,


“You love snow my Ice Princess? Do you adore it now?”


“I’m sorry dad. Ha, Ha, Ha! Ok, Ok! You win!”

He gives her a big hug lying in the snow next to her.


“When will the summer come? I want to see how trees look in the light. Will they change colors daddy?”


“Yes my little Ice Princess, the trees will be green, and we won’t have to eat that much meat. Fruit will be on them, and this garden will turn into a large farm with many different types of edible plants. Since you’re a real Princess now, I’ll make sure you get the finest silk clothing that money can buy. You and your brother can go to school in a neighboring Kingdom.”


“I wish mother was here. I don’t ever want to leave you daddy, I’ll take care of you and my brother. That’s what mother would’ve wanted.”


“Aw, Princess. We’ll always be together. Just think of it like a vacation. You’ll be back soon as you know it. We could travel together during the winter with the people of the newly built Camelot.”

He sits up.


“I have to get back to work. Let’s talk later about this during dinner. See you later my Ice Princess.”

He stands picking up his sword. The Snow Princess watches her father chip away at the solid earth.

She knows he’s happy and full of new dreams. She tucks her head between her legs having mixed feelings about her father’s happiness, attesting the fact that he was a witness to her mother’s murder. Tears pour out of her eyes.

She softly says,


“Mommy. I’ll always love you. I miss you. Good bye.”

Standing up, the Ice Princess lifts her head up and wipes her eyes clean. She walks toward some swords on the ground picking one up.

Going toward her father, she helps him with the field. Streaming down her tear-ducts, she wipes more tears. The Duke understands his daughter’s feelings. He smiles at her and she smiles back.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: