Blood Rain

One shot would be all it took. A flying diamond-tipped arrow to Shatter Man’s life core would earn Ino Kara the respect she deserved from her mercenary cohorts. No more jokes about her equine features. No more jokes about being ridden like a cowboy. They could forget about trying to feed her hay. They could spare her the horse dick references and anything else that had to do with bestiality. “You fuckers will put respect on my name,” she said in a low voice to nobody in particular.

Shatter Man was ripe for the snipe. Surrounded by a cluster fuck of dead bodies lying on the dirt and bone-covered ground, the necromantic machine sat cross-legged while his exhaust pipe belched red filth into the gray skies above. Ino could smell the ashen cloud it all the way from her sniper’s nest in the treetops. She had to be careful not to hack up a lung if she wanted to stay hidden.

With a bandana tied around her muzzle and stillness taking over her body, Ino pulled one of her diamond-tipped arrows out of her quiver and took aim with her golden edge bow. A shot to the head would have been her preference for any sniping mission, but Shatter Man’s mechanical dome wouldn’t allow it. She had to pierce through his chest at the exact spot and splatter his life core all over the ground. A filthy death indeed, but no more filthy than speeding up climate change with this necromantic smoke. Ino had to find her exact shot and make it quick.

She breathed deeply not only to calm her nerves, but steady her aim. Just when she was ready to release her arrow, a crow flew from out of nowhere and began pecking at Ino’s mask. “Shoo! Go away! Beat it!” she angrily whispered while swatting the bird away. She didn’t want to whack the poor guy too hard due to her respect for animals, but this wasn’t he best time to horse around. There was another mercenary joke that needed to be eradicated forever: horsing around.

Ino steadied her breathing once more and made a second attempt at aiming for the life core. “Easy…easy does it…you’ve got this…now take a shot!” she whispered to herself. The damn crow served as a distraction yet again, but this time perched its claws right over Shatter Man’s life core. The robot didn’t move an inch, just kept spewing garbage into the cloudy skies. “You asked for it, you stupid bird.” Respect would only go so far as Ino Kara finally took her shot.

Shatter Man looked so still and unaware this entire time, not unlike the zombies he was trying to wake up with his putrid smoke. Ino gasped when the mechanical nightmare grabbed the arrow just before it could pierce his life core. He crushed the arrow into dust, including the diamond tip, before ejecting bird seed from his hand as a reward for the crow.

“That little bastard,” whispered Ino, clutching her edge bow so tightly that a little crack formed.

Shatter Man spun his head towards Ino’s sniping nest. His visor flashed an eerie shade of red, making Ino’s heart race no matter how much she tried to suppress her fear. He pointed a drill bit finger at her and puffed even more pollutants into the sky. “My sacred ritual is not your payday!” he said in a monotone, demonic voice. “Arise, my children of the dead!”

A sprinkle of water landed on Ino’s furry head. And another. And another. When she wiped them away, her teeth and legs vibrated at the crimson color. The tiny droplets became heavier and denser until a full-on bloody rainstorm drenched Ino from head to hooves. Her purple battle dress and blue thigh high boots clung to her body like a frightened child wanting his mother’s undying love.

Ino’s own blood grew ice cold and a knot welled up in her stomach when the bloody rain caused the army of dead bodies to twitch. Limbs and heads awkwardly twisted around. Rotting flesh peeled and rolled. Bulging eyeballs retracted back into their owners’ skulls. Slowly and creepily, the shit-smelling dead bodies rose to their wobbly feet until Shatter Man and his crow informant had their own necromantic army.

The horse woman swallowed a golf ball sized lump while clutching her chest, hoping she wouldn’t die of a heart attack before this battle had a chance to begin. “Fuck it,” she said, tossing all caution to the wind. Even as crimson rain pelted her clothing and soaked her fur, Ino tossed aside her growing fear and ran into the fray.

“I want some goddamn respect!” she shouted, knowing assassinating Shatter Man was the only way she’d get it from her fellow mercenaries. As hordes of zombies trudged towards her with their rotten arms extended and their bloody mouths wide open, she fired multiple arrows at once and each one hit their marks. Chests exploded. Throats splattered on the ground. Guts spilled all over the dirt like a gory mudslide. When Ino ran out of arrows, she continued her assault by swinging her edge bow and smashing the skulls of anybody who dared take a bite out of her horse meat.

Shatter Man’s arms folded while the crow sat perched on his shoulder laughing his ass off at the equine warrior. “You little bastard!” shouted Ino as she trampled fallen zombies on her way to snatch the bird, wanting so desperately to rip his feathers out and snap his beak. The zombies wouldn’t stay down for long. As the blood rain continued to pour, they stood back up even with their detached heads and exploded bones. They grabbed at Ino’s shoulders with broken fingers, but she beat them down with her edge bow until they were little more than rivers of blood and organs.

Despite the aching in her own ribcage and limbs, Ino wouldn’t allow her waning energy to get in the way of her quest for respect, coin, and ultimately her life. She smashed more skulls, stomped on fallen bodies, ripped out spinal cords, but the zombies kept getting back up for more. Even the crow got in on the action when he pecked behind Ino’s ears. She swung at the bird, but he kept dodging and laughing the whole time, turning Ino’s ice cold blood into boiling magma. Even as more zombies grabbed her, she ripped her flesh away from their sharp grips and chased after the bird.

When Ino finally latched onto the crow’s tail feathers and seethed with bloodlust as she imagined ripping the little guy apart, a heavy metal punch to the gut doubled her over and caused her to dry heave on the ground. The zombies were called off as Ino touched her damp wound. She knew it was her own blood and not that of the crimson weather. She could feel her naked ribcage because there was no skin to protect it. That punch came from Shatter Man himself, who stood over her with his red visor glowing and blinding her with every flash.

“Go ahead…finish me off…what are you waiting for?!” begged Ino, spitting out blood in between words.

“You exhausted your body, battled my minions, and put your life at risk for a little bit of respect?” said Shatter Man. Ino tucked her head in shame as she laid in the fetal position waiting to die. “Everybody who tried to claim my life has the same story: a minority mercenary looking for acceptance from their peers. Killing me will suddenly net them the happiness they believe they’re entitled to. Truth is, young lady…you could cure cancer and end worldwide hunger all in the same day. You’re still going to be laughed at. You’re still going to be hated by society. Why? Because ignorance and fear are easier to accept than progressive values.”

Tears welled up in Ino’s eyes as this truth bomb hit her harder than Shatter Man’s punch to her guts. “I don’t want to be a horse anymore,” she sobbed. “If being a normal human will get them to leave me alone, then I’ll take it. I never got racial pride anyways.”

“It doesn’t get more ordinary and boring than laying six feet deep in the ground, no matter what race you identify as. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You don’t have to please others to get the respect you deserve. You don’t have to conform to tradition. If you want respect, you’ve got to beat it out of those who deny it to you. You think I chose to be a robot? You think I was born with the name Shatter Man? I didn’t win any popularity contests with my background. Why do you think I have a price on my head? It would have only been a matter of time until you had a price on yours.”

Ino spit up more blood and wiped away her tears with her dress sleeve. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? I’m already on my way to hell. At least in hell, they’re honest about what kind of torture they’re going to give me. Here on earth, they just disguise it as making whatever country they live in ‘great again’.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” said Shatter Man, waving his arm in the sky to show off his bloody rain. “You can have a second chance at life just like my minions. As zombies, they don’t have the highest social ranking. But they take full advantage of their second chance. They hunger for revenge against a society that never wanted them when they were alive. They were and still are weirder than any horse woman they’ve ever seen. Let the blood rain flow into you. Join my army. Don’t wait for respect. Take it from them with both hands.”

The bloody rain poured through Ino Kara’s wounds as she laid on her back waiting for sweet necromancy to overtake her. A warming sensation spread throughout and she didn’t feel like shivering anymore, whether it was because of fear or cold weather. Her eyes rolled back in her head like she was in an orgasmic trance. Her tired body blazed with energy and happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her pain numbed out and was replaced with a massaging sensation throughout her chest, legs, and head.

Slowly and shakily, she rose from the ground. Her stomach pounded with hunger, but not for food and certainly not for hay. She hungered for flesh. She thirsted for blood. Her tormentors would turn into victims. Her cannibalistic meals would taste juicier than a steak dinner. She licked her blood-covered lips and groaned with lust.

Shatter Man placed a hand on her shoulder. “Welcome to my army. You can stay for as long as you desire. They say the taste of vengeance is bittersweet, but you’ll find it to your liking. You will be loved and respected…or else!”

Ino Kara had no words for her seductive master, only groans. Then again, she wouldn’t have to debate the harmful effects of racism with the world ever again. Either her victims took yes for an answer…or they would get chewed up and spit out with no remorse. Ino smiled at that idea. Her newly rotten teeth would make her face look even more horrifying to the racists she would eventually devour. She was strangely okay with that. Fuck beauty. Fuck love. Fuck everybody in this butt ugly world!

A Bastard Sword in a Haystack

Butterflies flapped all around Elizabeth Dempsey as she laid on her back with her hands behind her long brown hair. With the comfort of the grass beneath her, she nearly drifted off into dreamland in this forest she called home. The only thing that kept her awake was one butterfly landing on her nose and flapping its golden wings. Ticklish as that sensation was, she let it slide. She smiled at the heavenly nature around her. The tallest trees protected her from the outside world. The butterflies were her best friends. Occasionally a squirrel would run up to her and she’d feed the little guy a handful of nuts. If not for her ranger duties, she could sleep here forever eating berries and veggies.

And then the distant sound of boots tromping on the ground startled the butterflies and squirrels. They sped away to higher ground while Elizabeth’s eyes were wide open and filled with frustration. “Goddamn it,” she said to herself. She fixed her green cloak, brown tunic, and green baggy pants before snatching up her bow and arrows and nipping up to see what the fuss was about. The longer she stalled, the louder the boots became. “Show time.” She pulled her hood over her head and scaled the nearest tree with the dexterity of a cat.

With one arrow plucked from her quiver, she pulled back on the string ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Whoever disturbed her peaceful new age moment was getting an arrow to the chest if he didn’t have any quick answers. The thumping grew louder and more intense, so much so that Elizabeth almost fell from her perch. “Come on, you big goof, get your butt over here so I can shoot you already.”

And then the source of the noise appeared on the dirt trail huffing and puffing, his massive palms engorging his kneecaps. Elizabeth couldn’t believe her eyes, even going so far as to lower her weapon. This clumsy oaf was at least seven feet tall…and he wore a purple ninja mask, no tunic to cover his muscles, and only tight-fitting purple pants and a pair of metal boots to barely cover the rest of him. “A walking contradiction if I’ve ever seen one,” said Elizabeth under her breath.

The ranger dropped down and landed perfectly on the soles of her leather boots, thinking she was at least a little safer than before. “You made a mistake coming here, my friend. You ran away from one problem and now you find yourself in another. All I wanted was some peace and quiet and you pissed that all away for me. Give me one good reason why I should stick one in that goofy-looking chest of yours.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” said the giant ninja in a stereotypical bass voice, placing his hands together prayer style and bowing to her. “I am Antonio Fujiwara, at your service. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just need a place to hide, that’s all.”

Keeping her hand on her bow, Elizabeth held her fists against her hips and gave Antonio a pathetic look. “A seven-foot tall ninja wants to hide from whatever was chasing him…in a forest full of nothing. First of all, why is a mountain of muscle like you running away from somebody who’s probably shorter than you? Wouldn’t it be easier just to snap his neck and be done with him?”

“It’s not just one person, ma’am. It’s…quite a few.” Antonio fidgeted with his sausage fingers. “I’m being hunted by the Scorpion Clan. Being tall doesn’t mean anything when you’re being hunted by them. They’ll kill me if they find me! Please, you’ve got to hide me!”

“Hide you? I don’t know, Antonio. Seems like the Scorpion Clan is looking for a bastard sword in a haystack. There aren’t a whole lot of good hiding places I can think of for a guy your size. You probably can’t climb a tree and stay there. The caves are too small. The bushes are also too small. Looks like you’re shit out of luck. Now beat it before these Scorpion Clan guys involve me in your mess too.”

A flying dart pierced Antonio in the small of his back and he stumbled around like a drunk, slurring his words like one too. Elizabeth backed up in worry as the giant ninja’s intoxicated dance led him to grab a handful of vine berries in a failed attempt to keep himself hoisted. He collapsed on the ground with a resounding boom and snored his way to the subconscious theater.

Elizabeth pulled on her bow string as several shorter ninjas in red and black uniforms leapt out of hiding and enveloped her in a broad circle. Each ninja was armed with shurikens, which meant a ton of holes in Elizabeth’s body if she tried anything funny. Their hoods and masks covered everything but their eyes, which burned with disciplined fury. In other words, they didn’t come to this forest to fuck around. “Drop your weapon,” one of them commanded, which Elizabeth slowly did.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. This giant oaf came to me, I didn’t come to him. I just wanted to take a nap and then he comes rolling in…”

“Silence!” belted the ninja. “You’ll have plenty of time to take a nap if we find out you were harboring this fugitive. Stealing money from us was Antonio’s first big mistake. Being stupid enough to come here looking for refuge was his second. Then again, he never was very smart to begin with.” His cohorts chuckled.

“You know what? You’re right. He’s not very smart. Just take him and leave me be, okay? Can we make a deal?” begged Elizabeth, her hands held high.

“You heard her, men. Take this gargantuan mongoloid away,” said the lead ninja. It took the strength of several ninjas to lift Antonio’s massive body and even then they were grunting and groaning. They almost dropped him on his head a few times while the lead ninja continued to hatefully gaze into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Unfortunately for you, we can’t make a deal. You’re a witness. I can’t leave any witnesses.”

“No, no, no, don’t do this! I’m begging you!” said Elizabeth as she got on her hands and knees. The ninja had his shuriken ready, but the pleading was just a cover up as Elizabeth grabbed her bow and arrow and shot the lead ninja between his devilish eyes. The shot was so stiff that the ninja’s entire brain fell out the back of his head.

“You bitch!” yelled one of the ninjas as they dropped Antonio.

Elizabeth and the ninjas stood across from each other at a stalemate, a bow and multiple arrows versus god knows how many shurikens. She knew this was a fight she couldn’t win, yet she had no choice now that she crossed the Rubicon. It was all a matter of which ninja would die first. They all looked the same. They all talked the same. But only one of them called her a bitch. Would he be the first to go? Decisions, decisions. At least now she would get the peace and quiet she desperately wanted. Did they have butterflies in heaven? Would she even go to heaven in the first place?

She didn’t have to make the tough decision after all. That decision was made for her when Antonio nipped up and slammed the ninjas’ heads together, concussing the guys on the edges and exploding the skulls of those in the middle. “Take the shot!” yelled Antonio. Elizabeth did just that. Whoever remained after that head slam took a series of arrows to the chest, knocking their hearts and spines out of their carcasses. Antonio chucked the dead bodies over the bushes and into a ditch. He didn’t break a sweat doing it nor did he need a firm grip on anywhere but their ankles.

After the dust settled, Antonio removed his ninja mask and smiled at Elizabeth, who smiled back at him. He said, “The poison these geniuses used in their dart was too low a dose for someone of my size. If they had any brains at all, they would have used a bigger dart. Maybe they could have used a bastard sword in a haystack. Plus, those berries I grabbed were a perfect antidote.”

“And you’re supposed to be the dumb one just because you have a deep voice?”

“Well, I did lead all of these jerks to your forest. That alone wasn’t very smart. Sorry about that. Now I’ve got you involved in my problems.”

“I don’t mind at all, Antonio. In fact, I wouldn’t mind hunting down every last one of those Scorpion Clan jerk-offs. The way I see it, they were going to interrupt my peace and quiet one way or another. Might as well strike them before they strike me. If they really are dumber than a giant with a deep voice, then they’ll fall for my begging and pleading trick again. Heh…like I’d ever beg for my life for those dweebs.”

A still wobbly Antonio wrapped his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and said, “You and I make a pretty good team, don’t we? Kind of like brains and brawns, right?”

“Well, to be fair, those ninjas have brains too. They just happen to be splattered all over the ground right now. So what do you say we stop running from the Scorpion Clan and start racking up a body count?”

“You can count on me!” Antonio gave a playful slap on Elizabeth’s back and unintentionally knocked her over. He apologized profusely as he picked her up and dusted her off.

“Okay, maybe you are just a little bit thick in the head, but we’ll work on that,” said Elizabeth with a playful smile.

"Cecil's Pride" by The Hatkoff Family

BOOK TITLE: Cecil’s Pride: The True Story of a Lion King

AUTHORS: The Hatkoff Family

YEAR: 2016

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Lion Biography

GRADE: Extra Credit

When Cecil the Lion was heartlessly killed by a trophy hunter, it sparked worldwide outrage and rightfully so. The subsequent debate on animal welfare and wildlife conservation led to new laws being put in place to protect future generations of lions. But to fully understand how important these new protections are, we must first understand how Cecil lived his life as the king of his pride. He wasn’t just a random animal. He was a loving protector and a social creature at heart. May he rest peacefully and may his pride continue his majestic bloodline.

Instead of just a barebones biography, Cecil’s story was treated as an actual story with a beginning, middle, and end. He was portrayed as a three-dimensional character with his strengths, flaws, and lovability. He fought other animals when his pride was threatened and he ran away only when necessary. And because lions like Cecil are social creatures, they bond with other prides for the sake of protection. This is a classic storytelling technique: two factions banding together to fight off a stronger villain. And when Cecil is eventually killed, the reader will care that much more about him. It was already an angering story to hear about on the news, but to see it in this book is that much more heartbreaking. Cecil’s portrayal as a regal figure and a dynamic character in a much larger story is what makes this book special enough to deserve an extra credit grade.

In addition to employing storytelling techniques, this book also has an educational side to it. Because these two qualities work side-by-side with each other, it’ll be a guaranteed hit with students of all ages. You’ll learn why lions are important to Africa’s ecosystem. You’ll learn why they attract so many mates at a time. You’ll even learn a few statistics about animal extinction and why conservation is more important now than it has been in the past. Education shouldn’t stop when school is over. You can get more out of this book than just trivial facts. You can learn empathy. You can learn how to be an activist. You can do some good in this world with these forty pages shaping your mind. Put down the hunting rifle. Put down the bow and arrow. The only shooting you should be doing is with a high shutter speed camera.

Speaking of which, the lion photographs in this book are magnificent to look at. Cecil looks like a proud king when he watches over his families. His cubs look like little cuties when they practice their roars. His lionesses look seductive when lying about with their mates. Cecil even looks alert and ready to protect his pack when he’s doing something as mundane as drinking from the river. The African landscape is more than just a place for wild animals to do battle. It’s a kingdom. It’s an empire. It’s a society that must be protected from the cruelty of guns and crossbows. These pictures do the lions justice a hundred times over. Even the drawings have that kind of power over the reader.

It’s easy to balk at this book for being targeted towards small children. There are also a few who will contrast Cecil’s death to those of aborted fetuses. There are even those who question why lion lives matter to begin with. To those who would easily brush this book aside, I say give it one chance to change your heart. It’s forty pages and it’s mostly pictures. You’re not sacrificing much when picking this book up for a quick read. If anything, you’ll be better off for the experience. Keep your eyes and mind open and you’ll want to give this book an extra credit grade as well.