The Name

Flames rise and fall from the earth, illuminating the dark figure sitting behind them.

He sits there silently behind the…

<Campfire>

Dried blood and rips from bullet holes riddle his coat. He stares at me through a dark cracked visor and a heavily damaged mask. He fiddles a coin like piece of metal between his tattered leather glove. His other hand rests on the holster on his side. Each holster on each of his sides hold well kept revolvers. The parts of the guns protruding from the holsters gleamed from the rising flames.

We both sit, silently and still across the flames, waiting for something to happen.

“What do you want?” He remarks to me calmly.

“What?” I answer, trying to calculate what this question could mean.

“You saved me, practically brought me back from the dead, have been following me all day, and now sit there staring at me. you obviously want something from me. what do you want?”

I sit on a stump processing his question. What am I doing? I revert my vision to the night sky, then focus back on the drifter.

“I…. I’m trying to find my purpose. I awoke in a new world with nothing but random…”

<memories>

“…memories of my past… of the past. And for some reason I feel like you know how to help me find my purpose.” The words spill out like oil from a broken machine.

We both sit in silence for a while. His hand slightly moves away from the his holster.

“That’s pretty deep for a machine, what…are you?” He says in a slightly curious tone.

I sit puzzled again, pondering this question. what am I? I look down at myself, at my mechanical limbs.

“I do not know” I remark heavily

“Well, you sound like us people, If you want to stick around much longer you gotta look like us people.” He says to me in a more sympathetic voice.

I tilt my head to the side in confusion.

“We gotta cover up those mechanical parts of your’s.”

My head straightens quickly.

“So you will help me?” I say excitedly

“you got a name?” He asks me after a moment, almost ignoring my question.

Do I have a name? Why haven’t I thought of these things yet?

<Model JX24801>

“I am previously known as Model JX24801” I say, hoping that’s what my head was telling me.

“Well that’s not gonna fly.” He remarks with a sarcastic tone.

He relaxes a little bit in his position. And puts the coin like piece back into one of his pouches. He looks down for a minute then looks back up at me.

“How about Jax?”

Jax. Jax. I like it. My name… Jax.

<New title to initiate attention>

<Jax>

My name is Jax.

Advertisements

The Cure

My heart won’t stop pounding

Conversations are short

My sirens are sounding

I want to abort

I can’t help but smile

My hands won’t stop shaking

I’m losing my style

My head won’t stop aching

Is this love?

First impressions

Journal #6

I remembered, I remembered why I became a drifter.

I collapse my head into my hands as warm tears flow through my fingers.

I have no one.

Gone

He’s gone

Dad.

“Don’t stop, Don’t let anyone catch up. Don’t forget that you are important, no matter how alone you may feel, you are important.”

The words echo through my head.

The words that kept me going for years.

My fingers press against pale dead skin, and frizzled facial hair. Tears spill from the bags under my eyes.

Wait, I feel my face.

I feel my face!

I feel my face?

“Where’s my mask!?” I scream as I look around in panic.

I look at the old man standing next to the table. He too has no mask.

“We are all going to die!”

He he looks at me with with a slight grin. “You’re in a hospital, we filter the air here.” He says to me calmly. “I must say you were pretty banged up, if it weren’t for your mechanical friend over there you’d be long gone.”

He gestures his hand to the corner of the room where a robot wearing a hat stands playing with a loose screw on his arm.

The robot looks up at me with his glowing, well eyes I guess. “Hello! I am………I don’t know what I am” The enthusiasm behind that sentence was very odd to say the least.

My bare hands drag across my face, mopping up the mess of emotions on it.

“Thanks……man” I remark to the awkwardly standing robot in the corner.

“You are very welcome drifter!” He says to me, his body completely still.

“Where’s my stuff?” I turn to the doctor and ask.

He gestures to a table in the room covered In my large amount of supplies.

I look back over at the strange mechanical being.

What the hell is going on?

The Greatest

Some of my personal all time favorites. 

Back then-b story

Apologize – Grandson but seriously everything by grandson is beyond amazing.

Hurt – Oliver Tree

Slow Dancing In The Dark – Joji

Figure It Out – Royal Blood

Cocoon – Milky Chance

Attention – Joji Again

Pretender – AJR

Phantom

Through the house I drift

I silently walk through the walls of chaos

Darkness through and through

Only accompanied by silence

My heart beats slowly but my mouth doesn’t move along

Screams shower the house but I just watch

I find it better to stay quiet

Superimposed by black

My face means nothing

My words are absent

I drift unseen

Phantom

The Reason

Journal #5

I’m back at the old house.

I sit on the old dusty stool while pumping rounds into a shotgun. My dad rummages through the house grabbing weapons and supplies. I sling the shotgun over my back. Then strap holsters to my sides.

My dad walks up to me and grasps my shoulders. “There isn’t much time. they’re coming for me son. Remember the rendezvous point” “Yes sir.” I say in my cracking voice.

I didn’t understand why we had to split up at the time, although I thought I knew everything as a 16 year old.

He looked into my eyes through his goggles and into my visors. “Don’t stop, Don’t let anyone catch up. Don’t forget that you are important, no matter how alone you may feel, you are important.”

He wraps his arms around me and says “I love you son”

The old man was tough as nails, he never hugged, and rarely said anything like this.

Tears run down my face and stain the inside of my mask as I remembered him spending every moment he could training me, showing me the ropes.

He reaches into one of his pouches and pulls out a strangely shaped peace of metal with a hole on two of the edges. “Hold on to this with you life.” he said. “This, you, will save the world.” He throws me his big trench coat. Hold on to this for me will ya?” I grin as I put on the coat. “See you there comrade.” He says to me as we walk out the door with all we can carry. “I love you dad” I say to him.”Right back attcha.” He says as we walk our separate ways.

I sit at the bar in town, at the rendezvous point. I sit there for hours, months, years.

He doesn’t come.

I searched for him for years, drifting throughout the wastelands. I never found him, but I found the men that did. Their blood lined my knuckles. My rage eventually subdued as I drifted for years and years.

I wake up on a table in a dirtied white room. “Ah your awake” an old voice says to me. “You got pretty banged up. If it weren’t for your mechanical friend you’d be dead.”

The words just fade into the background.

I remember. I remember why….

I’m a drifter.

The Crusader of Fire

Tales of the Wasteland

It’s beautiful isn’t it?

The spat and spark,

The fluid dance from left to right,

The never ending glow,

The smell of burning sin.

Fire is the most pure thing in this world.

It engulfs the unclean,

It forges the sword of justice.

Mercy spews from the barrel of my flamethrower.

The camp glows in the night.

The people run with beautiful flames dancing on their heads, like fireflies in a jar.

The sins must burn!

Only the blood of the Pack is clean enough to rebuild the nation,

And I am the one that cleanses the wastelands with the glowing flower.

My squad says I’m sick, but I feel fine.

I feel better than fine.

Fire dances around me but doesn’t touch my skin, because it knows who is in control.

Smoke rises from the cleansed bodies, releasing their dammed souls.

My large dark suit is now covered in white.

Fire has given me the warm embrace of the ashes of others.

I decorate the camp in flames with the fiery light gleaming in my visor.

The camp has suffered penance for its transgressions against the Pack.

The camp is incinerated, but my finger is still on the trigger.

There is nothing more beautiful than the glowing dance that spews from my gun.

There is nothing more perfect than fire!