Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Collector of Innocents

Collector of Innocents

Collector of Innocents
By Nomar Knight

It hides in broad daylight
Posing as one of us
Flashing an innocent smile
Melting our defenses down

Warm eyes exude sincerity
Allowing us to bask in friendship's glow
Blind trust takes over
And we open our hearts

Not once do we suspect
Pure evil in our midst
It grins as we let our guard down
Knowing tragedy breathes near

"Where's Sally?" We shout
Our little girl never comes home
No sign of the friendly neighbor
Mr. Kind vanishes when the fog clears

The man who steals sacred trust
Wanted in eleven states
Known as the collector of innocents
Roams to slice another family's heart

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved. 
A Knight Chills poem.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Exposing Our Heart of Darkness

Exposing Our Heart of Darkness

Exposing Our Heart of Darkness
By Nomar Knight

“Light never battles darkness, so whenever you see a fight it is always between two dark forces.”~Montaigne

In every heart there is a darkness waiting to come out.  There are four sides to every human and many of us are afraid of unleashing our darkest side.  So let’s examine the extremes of human behavior since they are the easiest to recognize.  
The part of our heart that most of us strive to maintain afloat at all times is our capacity for Light/Good which is nothing more than being a positive influence on others while adhering to a high moral code of ethics.  At a young age, many are taught, usually through church, that kindness fills a void in all souls.  As we age, we may discover that the more positive vibes we send out, the more we get back.     
The next extreme behavior is our capacity for Dark/Evil.  We tend to associate sociopaths, criminals, and the most troubled in society as the weaker element of human species.  Some commit acts so appalling, that people who bask in Light/Good are at a loss for dealing with what they deem to be their natural enemy.  To many of these righteous seekers, it never dawns on them that they too have the capacity to commit atrocities against mankind.  The fact that they prefer to lock away Dark/Evil tendencies only serves to enhance the illusion that they are better than anyone who loses their moral compass.
Unfortunately, the next two sides aren’t always easy to detect.  For example, a person who stays within the realm of Dark/Good may be looked upon as a mentally unstable character just because they prefer the darker things in life.  Many Dark/Good people will embrace horror or gothic genres, violent entertainment, and tend to be willing to try exciting things as long as their morals are not compromised and/or no one gets hurt.
The last side which is extremely difficult to detect and can prove to be the most dangerous is the Light/Evil side.  Light/Evil people gravitate toward the light by surrounding themselves with Light/Good people.  Sometimes we can tell them apart if the Light/Evil person seems to bask in the acquisition of power.  Sometimes they take roles such as clergy, teachers, or quiet positions that seldom get noticed like janitorial or service work. These are the people we call wolves in sheep’s clothing.  These are the people we tend to erroneously trust with our most sacred things, such as children or secrets. 
In retrospect, we are all capable of delving in both light and darkness.  While it may be true that in the heat of battle we humans always want good to triumph over evil, reality reminds us that the lines between the two aren’t always clear.  In essence, in order for light to triumph over darkness, a balance must be kept from within.  As long as the principles of good never waver, humanity stands a chance of survival and hopefully learns to live with its darker side.
Catch you on the dark side.

Nomar Knight

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Free Art Lessons For All

Free Art Lessons For All

     Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be able to draw your own stuff? Perhaps you were like me and kept putting off improving your amateur art standing until you work up the courage to make some time.  I've always admired the many talented artists who manage to capture with pictures, sketches and paintings what I can only seem to do with words. Sure, I've tried and while my efforts aren't exactly laughable with pencil and paper, my computer generated sketches make me cringe. I know that drawing is like anything else that's worth pursuing.  Practice leads to improvement and more time spent learning to get better usually leads to surpassing our goals.  
     Well, thanks to Adam Park and his super cool blog at Bachelor's Degree Online, all of us who read Knight Chills and are closet artists can finally take a step in the right direction.  With his permission I'm posting the beginning of the article 100 Awesome Art Lessons on YouTube.  When you're through perusing through this list, feel free to visit his blog.  The link is provided at the bottom. 
     I know what you're thinking... how can a blog with a name like Bachelor's Degree Online be interesting enough to maintain my interests.  Well, just like the different degrees offered, the series of fantastic articles posted on the site's blog will keep you busy for many a night to come.  
     Feel free to enjoy.  I promise I'll feature more articles in the future from that super duper blog.   Here's an excerpt of the article:

100 Awesome Art Lessons on YouTube

Whether you're getting your bachelor's degree in painting, graphic design or sculpture, there's so much to learn about art — from its lush history to materials — that it can sometimes feel overwhelming. Yet art students shouldn't fret. There's a whole lifetime ahead to learn and numerous resources both in the classroom and outside of it for expanding your knowledge. One great place to seek out help with becoming a better artist is on YouTube. There, other artists, teachers and experts share their lessons on just about everything you could want to know. Here are a just a few of the thousands of art-related videos on YouTube to get you started with your creative education. Drawing
From how to sketch parts of the body to the best materials to use, these videos will help educate you on all things drawing-related.
  1. How to Draw a Realistic Eye: Eyes have been called the window to the soul, and if you want to create a realistic portrait you have to get them just right to give your drawing the emotion it needs. This lesson can help you learn the basics of eye sketching.
  2. Hatching & Blending Techniques: Hatching and blending are two ways to shade your drawings and give them depth. Learn the basics from this video.
  3. Learn to Draw Portraits: This video will show you some of the fundamentals that you'll need to know when it comes to drawing accurate portraits.
  4. Drawing heads/faces from different angles Part 1: Apply the skills learned in this video to any kind of figure drawing, whether realistic or not.
  5. Drawing Environment: It's all well and good to know how to draw people, but they will just be floating in space unless you know how to give them a setting. This video can help.
  6. How To Draw Two-Point Perspective, with Karl Gude: This video will help you learn to perfect your use of perspective, making any buildings, rooms or landscapes you draw more realistic.
  7. Gesture Drawing Tutorial: Sometimes gesture drawing can be a great way to quickly get the spirit of a model or subject. Learn from the work of this artist through his video.
  8. Drawing Bodies: Bodies are some of the hardest things to draw, so you can use all the help you can get. This video is a good place to start.
  9. Drawing Board Basics: Check out this video to learn how to set up a drawing board so that it's most conducive to creating great works.
  10. Types of Art Pencils for Drawing: If you need to learn a bit about art supplies, this video will help to point you in the right direction when it comes to drawing materials.

The article includes links to painting, illustration, photography (one of my favorites), graphic design, sculpture, printmaking, comics, textiles, and more. 

To read the rest of the article follow the link here

Have fun!

Catch you on the dark side

Nomar Knight

© Copyright Bachelor's Degree Online 2011. All rights reserved. 
Bachelor's Degree Online has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A Mind by Kerry A. Morgan

Mind by Kerry A. Morgan

Tonight, Knight Chills is blessed to have a superb author/editor/poet gracing our pages. Kerry A. Morgan is the author of The Astral Avenger.  When you finish enjoying her poetic talents, visit her at the links below.

A Mind
By Kerry A. Morgan

Slight movement, crumbling
Gentle encroachment, crushing
Wheels turn in silent embrace
As water drips, feeling scented trace.

Blacks and reds always follow suit
For colors help the imaginative juice
As human senses trigger thoughts
Our creeps and crawlies keep ever watch.

Pleasure immense, teasing
Fear so intense, fumbling
What will destroy me, enjoy it’s rest
For fight has come to be what I do best

When I long, to live
Isn’t often, to begin
Not because of sorrow great
Not because of ugly face

Huddled close; endearing,
Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing,
Think of love and wonder long,
Will fate grant wishes, or woebegone

Not to beg for interest lost
Not to drop that living cost
But softer still the space surrounds
Ever growing, expanding abound
Told ya she's great! :-)  She also is the poetry editor for SNM Horror Magazine.  Check out her work in Pandora's Imagination here and her website here  

Thank you Kerry for being this week's Knight Chills poet of the week.

© Copyright Kerry A. Morgan 2011. All rights reserved. 
Kerry A. Morgan has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Don't let 'em say

Don't let 'em say

I hate bullies. Sometimes we can't identify them until it's too late. This poem's for anyone who's been pushed around.  I say don't let 'em do it.  You make a difference in this life. Don't let anyone tell you different. And if they do, ditch them because they're not looking out for your best interests.  

Don't let 'em say
By Nomar Knight

Don't let 'em say you're crazy
Cause you don't dress like them
Sometimes it's okay to feel lazy
And wear torn jeans again

Don't let 'em say you ain't hot
For they're quick to put you down
Always trying to be what they're not
Acting like they own the town

Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
Be yourself no matter what
Forget claims that you're unusual
Hold on to that hot strut

Don't let 'em tell you what to do
For you give life an original spin
Say good riddance to the crew
Let them all drown in sin

Don't let 'em stop you from your goals
Step up and flex your might
To hell with corrupted souls
Never give up on this plight

A OneShotPoetry for week 38 

This poem was inspired by Eminem's Beautiful Have a listen. 

Eminem - Beautiful - www.KAYCEONLINE.com .mp3
Found at bee mp3 search engine

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved. 
A Knight Chills poem.

Monday, March 21, 2011

I'm a Nobody by Nomar Knight

I'm a Nobody

I'm a nobody
By Nomar Knight

I’m a nobody
Watch me choose
The wrong friends
Not try hard
Wallow in bed

I'm a nobody
Listen to my sobs
Ignore my pleas
I don't deserve
Your sympathy

I'm a nobody
I eat alone
Afraid to say
All the wrong things
And show my identity

I'm a nobody
Though I search
For the culprit
Of my undoing
I know it's me

I'm a nobody
So why would you
Cherish my words
In the end
I'll just hurt you

I'm a nobody
When you feel
A depressing pain
Know this nobody
Carries your burden

To an early grave

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved. 
A Knight Chills poem.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sneak Peak 3: Masters of Horror Damned If You Don't

Time for another sneak peak into Masters of Horror: Damned If You Don't

The phenomenon of “cutting” is more prevalent than you’d expect. Princess Diana was rumored to be a ‘cutter’, although I cannot confirm or deny this.
In the book THE ALCOHOLISM AND ADDICTION CURE, Author Chris Prentiss explains how ‘cutters’ think, as he cured one. “You feel bad before you cut yourself; you feel better AFTER you cut yourself. You’re cutting yourself to feel GOOD,” he told a woman…and that particular vice was revealed and subsequently defeated.
As New Zealand’s Master of Horror Lee Pletzers describes, it’s not always defeated…

The Seal
By Lee Pletzers

It came out of his skin, ripping and tearing.
Claws gripped the flayed skin, a black head the shape of a panther with a long snout and a jutted jaw, slid from the opening, surveying its surrounds. It lunged forward, forcing its thick muscular body forward, struggling, wriggling its way through, and ripping the man’s torso apart in the process. There was no pain. He watched the creature strode to and fro, claws clacked on the vinyl covered floor. Malevolent eyes, green and deep, stared at the man. Its lip curled up exposing a row of jagged teeth, tips gleamed in the fluorescent lights. Water dripped off its slick coat creating a puddle on the floor.
The lights flickered. The creature was invisible in the darkness. With each flash of light it had moved closer like stop motion photography. Suddenly it was on the bed, growling, hungry and eyeing his destroyed chest. It eyed his exposed heart.
“Wake up,” came a female voice with a very stern tone. “Warwick, wake up.”
The creature eyed the woman, licked it lips, and poised on the bed.
“Don’t make me restrain you.”
Warwick’s eyes snapped open, momentarily startling the woman.
“That’s better,” she said, absentmindedly brushing down her nurse apron. She grabbed his wrist and looked at her watch. “You must calm down,” she scolded. “All the machines went into alarm.”
 Leave, now! It’s watching you!” His voice was a harsh whisper full of urgency and concern.
“Mister James, there’s nothing there.” The nurse stared at her watch. She shook her head. “I’m going to have to give you something. Your pulse is racing.”
The creature growled. Raising a paw, its claws snapped out like tiny curved daggers. It swung at the nurse, aiming at the face. The nurse was unaffected. The claws passed through her as if she were a ghost and nothing more. Frustrated, a roar ripped from its throat.
Warwick laughed. The seal was cracked but not broken. All was good for now, but he knew he needed to enhance the seal, strengthen it. He smiled at the nurse. He knew how the game was played. “I think I’m fine now,” he said. “It was just a dream that seemed so real.”
The nurse filled a hypodermic syringe.
“Seriously--I don’t need that.”
The nurse tapped air out of the syringe.
“Betty, please.”
“It’s for your own good.” She turned to face him. “Just settle down, now.”
Warwick tried to move, but the creature had pinned his arms at his sides. Its snout was inches from his nose, its hind legs on his thighs. “She injects me, you die.”
He stared into the creatures’ deep green eyes. He flinched at the sting of the needle. “Goodbye,” he said to the creature as it faded and its weight lifted. Looking down at his chest moments before the drug took him, he smiled. Everything was as it should be. He had 72 more hours before the creature tried to return. He worried that it was not enough time to strengthen the seal. All he could do was hope it was.

Take a small but decent-sized American city and slaughter its entire population, over the course of a year. (Well, don’t, actually.) If a hostile country did that to one of our cities, we’d probably give them the Hiroshima treatment.
Yet, that’s how many people alcohol kills in different methods—cirrhosis, other diseases, drunk drivers (62 victims a day from that alone!), accidents, fights, mayhem—every year. It out-kills every other drug we’ve come up with, except possibly for tobacco, while we lock up nonviolent marijuana users by the thousands. And as a society, we let it slide. The legality, prevalence and perceived ‘normality’ of alcohol—and its enormous lobby and tax income--makes it seem ‘not so bad’.
In fact, if you were to give alcohol a human voice, it might just say so.

By K.K.

At 11:40 AM, Deacon Blues was almost finished redecorating the room. The framed EASY DOES IT and DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF placards were still there, along with the huge posters describing the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, but he’d added some real eye-catchers.
A Corona poster had been added. A hot model in a bikini posed with a bottle of the beer, but her beautiful face had been cut out of the picture. Other poster-girls for Coors Light and Smirnoff Ice posed on other walls, equally headless. Magazine ads for Captain Morgan’s Rum, Southern Comfort and Jack Daniels were taped up at eye level here and there as well. They were all very commonplace images, but very incongruous for a chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous. And if Rick didn’t arrive soon, Deacon Blues would have to take down all his work before the next meeting started. “Where are you, Tusgrin?” He growled under his breath to the empty room.
At 11:45 AM, Rick Tusgrin rolled his battle-scarred Impala to a halt next to Deacon Blues’ ancient Triumph motorcycle outside the West Side Group, and got out. As the door crunched shut with a pained metallic groan, he noticed all the damage he’d done to it over the last two years. Dented door, dented quarter-panel, dented fender, dented grille…it went on and on. Now that he was sober, he could connect each dent to a different bar or party. Funny how he hadn’t noticed before. He walked towards the building’s door, then groaned at his own malfunctioning memory and stalked back to the car to get the photos Matt had requested.
Inside, Deacon Blues raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Rick. Did you bring ‘em?”
Rick nodded, holding out a manila envelope. “Right here, Mr. Bluzinski.”
“Call me Matt, for the thirtieth time…and thanks. These are all Jane Does, right?” he asked.
Rick nodded. “Of course. If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to look at ‘em.
What the hell did you want these for, anyw—” His sentence trailed off as he saw the new d├ęcor. “Awwww, no…
Matthew “Deacon Blues” Bluzinski raised an eyebrow. “What?” Instead of waiting for a reply, he taped an eight-by-ten photo of a female corpse’s face where the bikini model’s face should have been. “Hmmm, probably ought to cut these down to size…ah, I’ll do it later.” He repeated the process on another headless model.
“That is freakin’ sick.” Rick grumbled.
 “That is the exact point.” Deacon Blues kept taping as he spoke. “Advertising in reverse. Haven’t you seen those TV ads for ‘The Truth’? They’re freakin’ sick, but they get their point across because they’re sick. And that’s for tobacco. Nobody stands up to alcohol, no matter how many people die. People leave these meetings, they’re right back on the street, and every billboard shows people livin’ the wild nightlife. No wonder so many people relapse.” He touched up the Captain Morgan ad with a black and white photo of a crashed car. “Yeah, these are shock tactics. I think we need shock tactics. But if anyone tells me they’re disgusted, I’ll take them down. I bet you nobody does.”

It would probably be better for the society at large if our various vices only impacted US, and not affect our friends and families. As we all know, that usually isn’t the case. As seen on HBO’s “Intervention” series, a huge number of addicts would self-destruct if it weren’t for their friends and families.
But perversely, often our friends or families can be hard-partying “Enablers” that can either ‘jump-start’ our addictions, and/or cheerfully match us shot-for-shot down the left-hand path. Harry Mora now poses the question: which of you will reach the end of the road first?

By Harry Louis Mora

“I WON’T WAIT FOREVER!” he screamed after her, though he was sure the sound of the engine as Jessica drove away drowned out the pathetic threat. “I will not wait forever,” he whispered again—to himself—as the first pangs of pain began their convulsive trek from his heart to his brain. He slammed the door shut as the tears reached his eyes. Better to lock himself away then let the world know he had been torn apart—for the hundredth time—after having promised himself to never let that part of him need again.
The winter had brought self-loathing, betrayal and ultimately, guilty love. The spring had been magical, a storybook romance. The summer brought squabble, a breach in the idyllic life he had led for one blissful season. It was the first hint of an underlying sickness in their relationship. It was the first hint that it would all end in tears, as it had time and time before.
However, this time he would not wait forever for her to return. He had promised himself that; just as he had promised not to let himself be dragged along, clinging to the shreds of his heart when it started to go wrong. He would end his own suffering long before the world offered to end it for him this time—and he did. So why did this unbearable pain cleave his heart and close its fist around his throat?
He cried, long, drawn-out peals of sorrow and an endless river of snot and tears. He cried until he seemed to be incapable of producing any more liquids. He cried until the sounds of his anguish would no longer come. Only then, when his ragged breath only came in stuttering gasps did he stop.
He looked at himself in the mirror—where tears, snot and heartbreak plastered his face. He let the water run—
I won’t…
—washed up—
—and looked at his reflection again as he smiled.
Watching himself smile—a smile of victory, not of warmth or compassion--he felt something was different now. He’d turned, somehow, either toward something, or into something.
Wearing this mask of happy contentment, he returned to his friends. He returned to the life of hard work and harder play. “Memento” memories; that was what he and his friends had termed those drunken nights when you lost minutes, sometimes hours of your life with no memory, regret or shame.
After a while, the mask he wore for the world changed him. He grew as dark, cold, smooth and slick as the front he displayed for everyone. He smiled his mischievous grin into the mirror and patted himself on the back. How many girls had that smile bedded? How many had that look sent away crawling into the same little hell he had become master of?
He took a broken, lonely soul and remade it in crimson and black, leather and tattoos.  He created a villain to resurrect the naive white knight that had fallen. He knew many women; but never fell in love with any. He would not allow himself to be hurt again. He would not allow himself to be loved again. Without realizing it, he had become something he never would have imagined. 

 Check out the new Masters of Horror: Damned If You Don't Anthology website here

© Copyright Triskaideka Books 2011. All rights reserved. 
Triskaideka Books has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

A Lesson Learned Through Torture


A Lesson Learned Through Torture
By Nomar Knight
Torture is the mechanism by which a false sense of justice spurs the avenger onto heights greater than sexual bliss.  While listening to a concerto of earsplitting screams, the master grooms his wretched foe an agonizing inch at a time until his body parts grow numb. – The Book of Tortured Souls
It takes a special kind of monster to bend the will of another.  As I discussed the allowance of torture for anyone who was found guilty of committing a heinous crime with today’s youth—tomorrow’s law abiding citizens— my jaw dropped.  Not only did these products of violent video games favor torture, but a few went as far as describing what they would do to sexual offenders who didn’t stop with the raping of children.  They understandably abhorred molestation of any kind and in their book, predators that also kill their prey; will meet a certain yet slow death. 
I’ll never forget the look in a teen boy’s eyes when he described a proper punishment.  What started out as castration soon turned into a morbid game of skin the bad guy to a point they made it an art.  For these youngsters, one brutal act deserved payback of macabre proportions.  It wasn’t long before slicing and dicing amid horrid screams turned into burning and maiming. 
After listening to them for several minutes, I asked, “What if it turns out they locked up the wrong man?  How would you justify your actions?  How do you give the guy his limbs back?  How could you look him in the eyes?  The word sorry would never cover your actions.”
 The teens remained silent.  Perhaps some thought about their dark enthusiasm.  Some glanced at their feet, unable to look me square in the eyes.  The eager torturer tilted his eyes toward the heavens and whispered, “Torture should only be reserved for anyone who’s caught in the act or where it can be proven beyond a reasonable doubt that he’s guilty.”
 The fact he didn’t want to abandon the notion of torture mystified me.  I wonder when we’ll stop to think how barbaric we have become as a society.  Even now as I sit in the dark, sipping my coffee, I think back at the teen’s cold eyes and wonder what our future will be like.  I hope society will not back itself into a corner and feel that in order to deal with real life monsters; they must become something far worse. 
 Tonight I was posed an interesting question.  What did I think was the best way to deal with terrorism?  Ironically, I answered that it starts with educating our citizens.  Perhaps if we teach the young ones to fight hate with love, the world may become a safer place.

See you on the dark side.

Nomar Knight

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved.