Protecting Evil

Protecting Evil

By Nomar Knight

A friend of mine posed this question: why do horrible people have guardian angels? I said it’s because evil serves a purpose. We don’t like evil people but they do perform a role in this world. I can make an argument and claim that the creator uses evil as a way of testing people, educating souls about themselves, and perhaps the most disturbing reason of all, to balance the world’s population.

Let’s start with the latter. Natural disasters are in place to try and cut into the number of souls roaming the Earth. However, sometimes manmade disasters are part of a master plan. We look at massive deaths as horrifically tragic. Perhaps the creator sees it as a way of calling his people home. I know, what kind of a God would deliberately allow death a free hand at his creations? The only thing I can think of is to restore balance.

As for using evil to teach souls lessons, I believe we learn from every situation whether on a conscious level or subconscious. Yes, some experiences profoundly change who we are. Anyone who prescribes to the theory that God has a master plan probably thinks that destiny has already been written. We just don’t know what the creator’s game plan is. That’s why so many seek out answers through religion.

The third reason for using evil could be to test people. After all, difficult struggles do add to our character. It wouldn’t surprise me that our entire existence in this domain is educational. Maybe it’s an epic vacation filled with unique adventures from where we originally come from. Maybe there is no one true deity. Maybe there’s a sophisticated network from a higher dimension and we all come from that plain of existence. Whatever it is, I’d sure hate to die and find out that we actually are super advanced apes.

Getting back to my friend’s question, it makes sense to me that if we are on some incredible yet temporary adventure, that we have a guardian angel looking out for our interests. Currently, there’s a guardian angel whispering her story in my mind. Her name is Furia. She played an interesting role in my novel, Darkness Roams. The giant female angel is beginning to reveal her secrets. According to her, righteous angels care about humans. She considers herself to be one of the best protectors of mankind, but sometimes she’s forced to protect souls that she would like to extinguish herself.

If you were a guardian angel, would you protect every soul assigned to you, even the evil ones?

Catch you on the dark side.

Nomar Knight

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2012. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Feature Presentation.

Keep Hope Alive

Dedication: From Candy to Lucas

I love you baby! 

Keep Hope Alive

By Nomar Knight

Sometimes I want to flash forward

To the part where we're together

To finally have you by my side

Our love will live forever

I know I'm a dreamer

Living someone else's life

Stuck in a world of loneliness

Like a ghost surrounded by strife

Pluck me out of this nightmare

Shower me with all your love

Kiss me a thousand times

Let's pray to the one above

Help me fight despair's grip

Brush away the fear that grows

Tear off the chains of the past

Eliminate all our woes

Your voice is like soothing waves

As if angels sing lullabies

Love's heavenly chorus rises

Until shattered by sad goodbyes

Must fight past the wonder

Will happiness be ours at last

Please Lord spring us forward

Let our union come fast

And if it should be decided

That time must have its way

Then I pray we gain the strength

To keep hope alive one more day

©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Poem.

The Bowels of Darkness

Here's my poetic offering for All Hallow's Eve. (Previously published in SNM Horror Magazine)

The Bowels of Darkness   

By Nomar Knight

From the bowels of darkness I came

Looking for my kind of treasure

Wasn't there to play foolish games

Or fulfill your sordid pleasure

Though your smooth flesh was enticing

And your warm eyes a delight

Licking sweat off your brow like icing

No doubt my lust would ignite

But purpose filled my need

So I ventured in the light

Your pale skin had to bleed

No use to struggle or fight

You winced and gagged at my breath

And spat vulgar words of hate

What you smelled was your death

A doomed reality your fate

Tainted soul ventured with me

Into the bleakest of holes

No longer could you see

Your blemishes and moles

Futile cries filled the void

Like razors cutting skin

Deception you employed

Revealed a black heart of sin

In my abyss your screams are harmless

So thrash and flail with all your might

Welcome to the bowels of darkness

Where forever is trapped in fright

©2011 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Nomar Knight Poem.

Blowback

Blowback

By Nomar Knight

I strut amidst chaotic mess

Intense heat extinguishing my concerns

Agents of destruction scurry

Cries of pain bring me glee

Now the one percent have less

Their giant monuments burn

Inside the rubble are buried

Secrets and lies rot beneath

As the masses watch in awe

I search to even the score

For evil's regenerative powers

Maintain a tireless grip

Perhaps now they'll see their flaws

And open opportunity's door

Life should smell like flowers

And be one happy trip

But I if they should learn nothing

And continue along merciless ways

I'll show them my version of something

Make them beg for end of days

©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Poem.

Ramblins of a Dark Knight: Silent Voices

Ramblings of a Dark Knight: Silent Voices

Hello Knight Chills readers, it’s been awhile since I posted anything. I apologize, but something strange has been happening to me. For some unknown reason, the voices which fill my head with action-packed stories are silent. I spend many nights sitting on my porch, hoping to hear from a character, no matter how dangerous. Unfortunately, I can’t hear them. Gone are the loud screams in the night. Instead, I fill my time watching internet television, listening to music, and as of late, smoking a cigar.

Oh how I long for Candy, my favorite sexy character, to whisper about her current capers, but I guess she’s too busy. Heck, I’m getting desperate. I wouldn’t mind a visit from my favorite female vampire, the Countess Lorraina Sandoval, but she too has opted to stay away from me.

I admit the silence is aggravating. Normally, in between stints from my most popular characters like Oscuro the angel of suicide, or Lieutenant Woods the psychic homicide detective, I would get visits from psychotic killers. Sometimes they would only entice me with a poem instead of a fleshed out story. At least they used to show up and fight for my attention which has never been easy since I have attention deficit disorder.

Unfortunately, my nights have become peaceful. Gone are the restless nights, gone are the nightmares that had me waking up in a cold sweat, barely able to utter a breath before I would eventually regain my composure. The challenge would be to pen the details before sanity wiped away memories of torture, screams, misery, and blood. Oh how I miss the chaos.

Let’s face it. I’m concerned that I’m becoming civilized. The word itself makes me break out in hives. Niceness is making me weak. Another friend of mine called me a kind soul. Yuck! Give me a bloody murder! Point me in the direction of a good evil man to torture. Surely this strange funk can’t continue.

In the event that I go missing once again, send out a search party. Rescue this dark Knight from the dungeon of writer’s block. Feed me information about characters who are suffering and worth caring for. There must be a voice out there that’s loud enough to capture my attention and captivate my creativity. Until then, I’ll sit on my porch, gaze up at the night sky and listen to the maddening silence.

Don’t get burned by the light. Bask in true darkness and send some my way.

Nomar Knight

Spice Up Your Writing: Explore Alternate Realities

Spice Up Your Writing: Explore Alternate Realities

By Nomar Knight

The concept of alternate realities actually existing has always excited me, particularly when it comes to writing fiction. When I visit one of my favorite getaway spots, I often ponder what I consider to be the key trigger in an alternate reality scenario. I unleash my imagination thinking about the power of IMPULSE. Impulse can be defined as the sudden, involuntary inclination that can prompt one to action.

Let’s say I’m at the beach, observing people as they’re having a good time. I spot a guy that looks like he eats weights for breakfast as he sprints across the sand, accidentally kicking the stuff into a sunbather’s eyes. As the thin sunbather cusses and tries to get sand out of his eyes before it begins to sting, the big guy stops and doubles back.

Now, perhaps in your currently reality, the muscle man did the right thing and apologized to the sunbather. You as a writer would prefer an alternate outcome, one that should keep any reader awake. Just think of what you saw and ask yourself, what really happened in one of the many possible alternate realities?

Since I tend to live inside a dark world, my alternate reality would look something like this:

Muscle man sprints across the beach, accidentally kicking sand in sunbather’s eyes.  Sunbather cusses.  Big man doubles back and asks, “What did you say?”

“Hey man! Watch how you run! You kicked sand in my eyes.”

The muscle man shakes his head, and in a deep voice says, “Is that all you’re worried about?” Then he promptly lifts the sunbather off the sand, carries him in spite of his pleas for mercy and tosses him into the rushing waves.

Of course, a more likely alternate scenario for me would be the muscle man attempts to lift the sunbather, the sunbather pulls out a knife and guts the big guy in front of the shocked beachgoers.

The point is that there are an infinite number of possible scenarios and while what you witnessed might have been a little boring, in an alternate universe, the universe you want to tap into as a writer, boring may be replaced by chaos and mayhem. Chaos and mayhem are excellent ingredients when it comes to writing action-packed fiction.

Till next time. Catch you on the dark side.

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2012. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Feature Presentation.

Dark Messenger

Friday Flash Fiction

Dark Messenger

By Nomar Knight

He vanished, leaving me standing with my mouth open.  I scanned the surrounding woods with my only aid being a full moon and a sprinkle of sparkling stars.  Gripping the porch banister, I recalled the oddity that struck my gut when I first laid eyes on the man.  He had to be over six feet tall.  A black overcoat and dark fedora made him appear real to me.  But how did he disappear?

I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye.  On such a breezeless night, a pair of bushes swayed as if something had pushed through them.  Every fiber of my being screamed for me to forget what I saw and go back into the cottage.  The allure of safety was disrupted by more movement.

Once again the man reappeared, this time to my left.  He tilted his black fedora yet I couldn’t spot his eyes.

“Trickery of light,” I mumbled.

He had gaunt cheeks and a sturdy chin.  It seemed his gray complexion fused to his countenance.  It was almost as if he wore a surreal mask.

“What do you want?”

I could have sworn I spoke yet my voice didn’t carry through the night air.  The stranger spun and vanished for a second time.

Logic abandoned me, though I wondered if he was a magician.  Something about the man sent a burning sensation spiraling through my gut.  As if my soul had access to ancient knowledge that I couldn’t attain in this lifetime.  Somehow, the man’s identity remained hidden within the confines of memory.  However, I sensed those memories didn’t belong to me.

“Atticus!  You shouldn’t stay out there too long, honey.  The insects will eat you alive.”

“Yes mother!”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.  Although my mother spent most of her hours catering to her new boyfriend, she still found time to baby me.

I whispered, “I’m eighteen, not eight.”

I spun, upon hearing movement by the bushes.  The man in black stood facing me with his head lowered, the hat still shielding his face.  I decided to speak to him with my thoughts.

“Where do I know you from?”

He lifted his head.  Like a sculpture coming to life, his facial features became more detailed.  Thin lips curled into a snarl.  A chiseled nose filled his face.  And the blank eyes formed into what appeared to be cat’s eyes.  Shades of gray surrounded his shiny gold pupils.

Without moving his lips he said, “I’m your reminder.”

Speaking aloud, I asked, “Reminder of what?”

Once again my words didn’t carry into the physical realm, but remained trapped within the threshold of my mind.  It was as if I could not break through an unseen barrier.  Before I could ask for more clarification, the man faded into the night air.

“You’re not gone.  It’s a trick!  Tell me, a reminder of what?”

“What did you say, honey?”

My mother opened the front door, stuck her head out, and stretched her neck to peer behind me.

“Who are you talking too?”

I shook my head.  “No one.”

Sleep became difficult.  Every time I shut my eyes, I kept hearing the man in black whispering, “I’m your reminder.”

It wasn’t until I actually slept, that corridors of time began to send clarity my way through a beam of white light.  I stepped through the rays, shielding my eyes.  Once my vision adjusted, I spotted the man in black.  He spun and faced me with his eerie snarl.

“What were you supposed to remind me of?”

He glared at me with his catlike eyes and shouted, “Save your mother!”

Screams!

I woke to piercing screams.  Then I jumped out of bed with my heart practically in my mouth until bursting through her bedroom door.  My vision focused on a man dressed in black, his body on top of my mother, strangling her with a chord.

“Get off her!”

I tackled the monster and we both fell off the bed.  His fedora scooted away revealing his face, leaving me numb.

“Father, what are you doing?”

He punched my face.  The sting on my cheek sent a nauseating pain to my head.  While I was dazed, I heard my mother choking.  From the corner of my eye, I spotted her current boyfriend sitting on a chair.  A knife protruded out of his bloody chest.

“No!”  Mother pleaded.

Once again my father jumped on my mother.  I didn’t understand how he had gotten out of jail.  I pulled the knife off the stiff and lunged at my father, plunging the blade in his back.

As my father struggled for life next to my terrified mother, I spotted the stranger in black.  He grinned at me, tipped his hat and vanished.

Till this day I could never fully understand who the stranger in black was or where he came from.  Though I suspected he came from another time, a dimension beyond my current understanding.  Each night, before I slept, I prayed to see the dark messenger so I could thank him for helping me save my mother.

Each day I’d wake up and say, “We will meet again, my dark friend.  I’m sure of it.”

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2012. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.

Peak Inside The Macabre Mind of Lori R. Lopez: Thirteen Tormentous Tales

Helly my friends, today's feature author is Lori R. Lopez. The first story I read from her was published in the Masters of Horror Damned if You Don't anthology. Her story, "Backlash" was a sheer joy to read. Lori works her magic not only in the horror genre but also poetry. So imagine my delight when I came across this gem, The Macabre Mind of Lori R. Lopez Thirteen Tormentous Tales. Lori provides some insights into some of her best work and includes some fine poetry as well. Her writing style will appeal to any fan of horror for she's quite skilled crafting tales that will leave you on the edge of your seat. Or if you're like me, I tend to read my horror at night while in bed. I caught myself checking to see if a wraith or ghost roamed my apartment while I fought off the impending chills of doom. 

You may purchase The Macabre Mind of Lori R. Lopez Thirteen Tormentous Tales at incredible bargain prices. At Amazon U.S. stop by here  If you prefer Amazon U.K. you can visit here

For those of you who own a Nook, you may purchase the book at Barnes and Noble here

All other eBook formats, Smaswords is the place to go, here. 

And now for a sneak peak at the story that introduced me to Lori R. Lopez, "Backlash" here's an excerpt. It happens to be in this great collection. 

Excerpt from the story "Backlash" (first published in the MASTERS OF HORROR:  DAMNED IF YOU'D DON'T anthology, along with works by fine horror authors including Nomar Knight):

A CLOAK OF FOG and pallor surrounded the patient as he stepped inside a doctor’s office.  There was no reception desk, no waiting area.  Just a vacant spot before a second closed door, a modest pedestal offering a glass water pitcher and stacked paper cups the sole decor.  The man nervously unbuttoned his dark overcoat and removed a gray wool scarf, which he crammed into a coat pocket.  The unbalanced bulge made him self-conscious so he extracted the muffler and looped it around his neck.  He fidgeted by the entrance, face still in shadow, then ventured a step forward into the light.

The guy was average in height and gangly, morose features and slouched posture well-suited for his brooding attitude.  Nothing about him seemed quite normal, yet he managed to appear unremarkable.  Possessing a wan innocuous manner, he was scarcely more animated than a corpse.  If he weren’t standing, he might almost be presumed dead.

The inner portal swung open sharply to the fellow’s surprise.  He uttered a shriek, his body jolting, and fell back a stride.  Again his visage was obscured, but he was definitely alive.

“Sorry to startle you.  I’m Doctor Winnow.  Mister Chiaroscuro is it?  Please come in.”

“My first name’s Arthur.  And it’s Chiaroscoro with an O,” he amended.  “A lot of folks make that mistake.”  The man shuffled through the doorway.

“Have a seat, Arthur.”  The doctor led him to a sitting area — two padded chairs arranged in opposite directions for an intimate conversation.  “I was going home when you called.  It’s lucky you caught me.  You said on the phone it was an emergency.  That if I didn’t help you tonight, you would do something regrettable because you couldn’t control yourself.  Might I ask the nature of your compulsion?”  Settling on the chair next to a small table bearing a lamp and a recording device, the psychiatrist softly pressed a crimson button.

Arthur hovered timidly beside the empty seat and stared at the floor.  “It’s rather personal,” he hedged, visibly squirming.  “I’ve never discussed this with anyone.”

“Well, you can discuss it with me, Arthur.  It won’t leave the room.”

The patient tensely appraised the counselor.  She was a short woman.  Tufted ash-blonde hair.  Oversized circular lenses that gave her an owlish aspect.  Somewhat pretty.  Probably someone’s wife, he mulled.  “Are you?” he abruptly questioned, as if expecting her to read his thoughts.  She’s a shrink not a psychic! he reminded himself and cleared his throat.  “A wife?”

“You seem agitated,” she skillfully redirected.  The session, after all, was about him.  “Is there something you need to tell me?  You can say anything here.  I won’t judge you.”  She leaned toward him with a smile, elbows on her thighs, hands clasped.

“Promise?”  The word was spoken as if it held tremendous import.

“I do,” she nodded.  “I promise.”

“And this is confidential?”

“Absolutely.”

The man slid the scarf off his neck, twisted it between his fists.  “I’ve done terrible things, Doctor,” he admitted.
“Mildred.  Doctor is much too stuffy.”  His confessor waited for him to continue, her torso upright, braced for the unknown.

He posed awkwardly, waiting for her to react.

The doctor gently enticed, “What things have you done, Arthur?”

“I can’t tell you,” he whispered, shoulders hunched miserably.

“Why not?” she prodded.

A harsh gasp:  “You’ll despise me!”

“I promised, Arthur.  No judging, remember?”

“Yes.  You promised.”

© Copyright Lori R. Lopez 2012. All rights reserved.

Lori R. Lopez has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2012. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Book Promotion

Nobody Cared

Nobody Cared

By Nomar Knight

She wept for what was lost

Her shoulders bounced

Chin tucked to her chest

Eyes welded with tears

She thought nobody cared

It didn't matter how she felt

People bending her will

Breaking the need for comfort

Until hope evaporated

She thought nobody cared

Ridicule ruled her waking hours

Sadness brought by misdirection

Loneliness smothered thinning breath

Past decisions kept her prisoner

She thought nobody cared

Years of being pushed and pulled

Slapped and kicked

Spat upon and neglected

Brought her to her knees

She thought nobody cared

Her allies turned against her

Hoarse whispers drowned out

By stomping tantrums

Cast out of grace

She thought nobody cared

Until a Knight heard her pleas

Soothed aching soul

Valued her friendship

Healed her for a breath

Alas someone cared

Shackled from power

Hidden from view

Her savior banished forever

Separated by ignorance

Again nobody cared

The princess cried

For hope shouldn't die

Yet freedom's song was silenced

Keeping her in darkness

When will somebody care

 ©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Poem.

Don't Pluck the Rose

I live in Puerto Rico and I must say, I'm sick and tired of all the domestic abuse cases. I know some women are capable of pushing men's aggravated button, but there are more productive and peaceful ways to deal with anger. Burning a woman alive, shooting her in the head, stabbing her, choking her to death and running her over with a car so doctors have to amputate her legs are all unacceptable. 

We must stop domestic abuse! Please join me in educating our youth. Let's teach them to value females because without them, the world would cease to be. I leave you with my poetic plea! 

Don't Pluck the Rose

By Nomar Knight

I don't get it

Men slapping women

Pushing, kicking, screaming

Did they come out

Of  excrement

Lowlife abusers

I don't get it

Men beating women

Until they pass out

Eyes and cheeks

Swollen, bruised

Lips fattened

I don't get it

Check your anger

Lock up those fists

Seek help

Do the right thing

Walk away

I don't get it

Teen boys imitating

Cowardly fathers

Punching girlfriends

Running them over

Severing their legs

I don't get it

How can any male

Piss on precious females

Violence against women

Must stop now

Don't pluck the rose

©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Poem.

Don't Be Afraid

Note the ghost in the attic

Don't Be Afraid

By Nomar Knight

Don't be afraid

Voices whisper in the night

Rooms creak to life

Darkness hides sinister creatures

Don't be afraid

Fear unleashes evil

Heartbeats pound senseless

Muffled screams prick your ears

Don't be afraid

You're never really alone

Something waits for you

Death's stench closes in

Don't be afraid

To open your eyes

See the impossible

Cry if you must

Don't be afraid

To soak in all the terror

Listen to the blood curdling screams

Fight off the urge to run

Don't be afraid

Of all that is coming

For nothing can hurt you

Because you're dead

©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Poem.

Lack of Sleep Bites

Lack of Sleep Bites

We've all been there. Some of us either have too much to do so we sacrifice sleep time, or we have difficulty getting at least eight hours of sleep. Here's an article called Sleepless in America: The Hazards of Being Tired presented to you with permission from TermLifeInsurance.org which I'm sure will be an eye opener.



Source: http://www.termlifeinsurance.org


A Knight Chills Presentation with permission from termlifeinsurance.org

Goodbye with Style by Bernadette Marie

Goodbye with Style

by Bernadette Marie

I grab the blade, I deeply press

Along my arm, in red, I dress;

So warm it flows, and drips like lace....

Distinctive smell, metallic taste.

So quickly does my dark mood lift-

I dream of stars as my mind does drift.

Sleepy now, and my lips do smile,

As life is slipping away all the while.

Oh, what a shame, the pearls, blood-stained...

And as they say, aren't easily gained.

But the flowers, though fresh;

Still smell like death,

And my beautiful corpse has champagne breath.

© Copyright Bernadette Marie 2012. All rights reserved.

Bernadette Marie has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2012. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Guest Blogger Poetry Presentation.