Showing posts with label violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violence. Show all posts

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Silent Rage by Nomar Knight





Silent Rage
By Nomar Knight

A quiet storm raged inside me. Students laughed at my expense. I wanted to get up off my knees and punch Carlos in his face. Instead, I begged him to leave me alone. 
“Kiss my boot!”
He had six inches and fifty pounds on me and from that angle he seemed like an ogre.
“It was an accident.”
A red circle formed above his right eye. Blood-filled cheeks confirmed that I was seconds away from getting pummeled. 
He tossed the dodge ball in the air and caught it without taking his vicious glare off me. 
“You threw this ball at my face on purpose.”
I raised my hands, begging for mercy. 
He growled, “I should make you eat this.”
I laughed. As soon as his expression changed to utter shock, I grabbed my stomach and almost keeled over. I couldn't stop laughing. 
“Jerome, I fail to see what’s so funny.”
Students circled around us. I heard one of them wonder aloud if Carlos was going to let me get away with making him look like a fool.
Carlos slammed the ball on my head. “That’s it! You’re dead!”
He pounced on me, rolling me on my backside. He grabbed my shirt, formed a fat fist and threw a punch at my face. I moved my head away and was relieved when he missed. The floor wasn't kind to Carlos. The sound of his knuckles striking concrete, then instant bone crunching was quickly followed with loud howling.
“That sounded painful.” I gathered enough courage to push him off me. 
The students chanted, “Kill him! Kill him!”
Tears filled the bully’s cheeks. Meanwhile, I got back on my knees, cackling with delight. 
Carlos tried to hit me with his other hand and nipped my nose. He screamed, “Somebody hold him for me!”
One of his cronies grabbed the back of my shoulders. I spun and squeezed his testicles. With the second bully’s howling another fit of laughter consumed me. The crowd grew quiet. 
Somehow, my emotions were scrambled. On instinct, I took off my belt and rapped it around Carlos’ neck. Using my weight, I crouched over him, laughing as his face turned blue. 
A student yelled, “Someone get Jerome off him.” 
Another added, “The crazy guy is going to kill him.”
Just as the big guy’s body stopped thrashing, my head got hit with something and I no longer was in the schoolyard. 
When I regained consciousness, a paramedic was applying a cold compress on my head. 
“What happened?”
The school’s principal, Mr. Gordon, said, “You hit Carlos with a dodge ball in his eye and he beat the daylights out of you.”
“Did I kill him?”
“Hardly, the students said Carlos beat you good while you kissed his boot.”
I checked my pants and saw my belt was still strapped in place. 
“Jerome, I called your mother. I’m suspending you for three days. Now stay out of trouble.”
I thought about exacting my vengeance upon my return. I pictured slicing Carlos’ throat with a knife and laughed and laughed.





© Copyright Nomar Knight 2015. All rights reserved.
A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Our Deadly Connection by Nomar Knight



Our Deadly Connection
 By Nomar Knight

Pendulum of death swings near
Chorus of whimpers amplifies fear
My victims beg and plead
One quick slice and they start to bleed
Anticipation of doom feeds my need
Fully embrace our assassin's creed

Tell me you miss our seductive fights
The caresses and kisses on lonely nights
Together we make a lethal pair
Prolonged separation isn't fair
Rejoin me on our killing spree
Let burning love set you free

Obscurity doesn't suit you
It's my absence that makes you blue
I promise a memorable ride
Come on Candy no need to hide
Two souls in search of something more
You are the one I adore

Soon our paths will cross
Eliminate that sense of loss
Lucas can't give you what you need
For all his illusions of good deeds
Darkness is what you crave
Once again we'll be all the rave

Embrace who you are my darling dear
Our fiery passion will set you clear
You need me like I do you
One look in my eyes you'll know it's true
Quench your thirst for vengeance now
You'll be safe this I vow

In my arms is where you belong
With my resources you can't go wrong
Take back your gun and knife
Be my beloved killer wife
I'm still your number one fan
Your forever lover assassin Sam




©2014 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.
A Nomar Knight Poem.


Friday, July 18, 2014

Extreme Cleaners by Nomar Knight




Extreme Cleaners
By Nomar Knight


Tommy Tatum got the nickname Tommy Tantrum when he was fourteen-years-old. He had a habit of annoying the girls in his class. The tall lanky fellow would inevitably end up on the floor after a round of hair pulling. The girls would get the upper hand with one swift kick in the nuts. His suffering eventually morphed to a full blown tantrum.
Years later, Tommy grew up and married Carla Towns. She was a petite sweet thing who had never gotten sick a day in her life. It amazed the neighbors how Carla became a klutz soon after marrying Tommy.
The borough of Brooklyn was huge and had several hospitals nearby. Every time Carla “fell” Tommy would take her to a different hospital. One day a doctor recognized the signs of abuse. That same doctor met with a horrible accident. The brakes in her car had malfunctioned and she crashed under a truck.
On a cold night in the city, Tommy’s short fuse ignited after a month long layoff from work. Carla should have known not to suggest she look for employment. The one thing Tommy hated losing was his pride. No longer a young boy who threw tantrums, he replaced that aggression by pounding on Carla every time his ego felt threatened.
“I’m sorry, Tommy. I didn’t mean it.” Carla sobbed and cowered away from Tommy’s raised fist.
“How many times I have to tell you? I’m the man of the house! I provide for you.”
Normally, after pounding her head and face he would stop and drink a bottle of whisky. Then he would coddle her out of guilt to try and ease her pain. Somehow, he always managed to convince Carla to hide the bruises under a pound of makeup.
As Tommy Tantrum struck down on Carla, his blind rage prevented him from seeing how awkward Carla’s head snapped back. It wasn’t until he realized his fists, and the mattress sheets were filled with so much blood that he stopped and panicked.
Instead of reaching for his usual escape in a bottle, he flipped on his laptop and found an internet site that boasted about unique problem solving. The company’s name was Extreme Cleaners and Tommy never expected to see me, an old classmate, at his door.
“Jack?”
Tommy’s eyes looked haunted, his hair disheveled.
“It’s been a long time, Tommy.”
I tried to peek behind him to get a look at the crime scene but he coddled the door close to his body.
“Are you going to call the cops if you don’t like what you see?”
“We promise discretion.” I stared at him with as much compassion as I could muster. “Do you have the two grand in cash?”
Once he let me in the apartment, I could see how his body trembled. He led me to the bedroom where I saw what was left of Carla.
“Is that Carla Towns?”
He nodded. “She’s my wife.”
I set a bag on the floor and put on latex gloves. “Not anymore.”
He opened a small safe that was in a closet and muttered, “Damn woman is costing me my life savings.”
While he fetched the cash, I recalled how Carla had treated me in high school. Her eyes beamed when we talked and she usually twirled her hair. Too bad my old man moved us out of state. I had pretty much forgotten about Carla until I faced enormous challenges as an Army Ranger. As soon as I served my tour, I looked up the beautiful Carla. Unfortunately, Tommy Tantrum had already married her.
“Here you go.” Tommy held a wad of hundred dollar bills.
Without hesitating I shoved them in my pocket.
“Aren’t you going to count it?
I remained silent, pulled an axe out of the large duffle bag along with plastic coverings and trash bags.
“Maybe you should go to a pub or something.”
The compassion I had demonstrated earlier had vanished, replaced by disgust.
“Nah, it’s okay. I can handle it.”
I scanned the room, spotting a bottle of whiskey on the dresser. “You might want some of that.” I said, gesturing to the booze.
He took it and remained in the living room while I went through my cleaning ritual.
After a couple of hours, I placed the sealed trash bags with what was left of Carla’s remains on the floor near the entrance of the living room.
He stared at me through tear filled eyes. “How come you don’t have any blood on you?”
Secrets were power and I didn’t intend to empower Tommy.
Changing the subject, I asked, “Have you gotten your story straight about Carla’s disappearance?”
He shifted baggy, haunted eyes away from my gaze then whispered, “The cops won’t believe me.”
“That’s the trouble with crimes of passion. You didn’t plan for contingencies.”
A confused look consumed him.
“That’s why it’s best to plan ahead. You know, to cover your tracks against those pesky CSI guys.”
“I didn’t know I was going to kill her.” He bowed his head and sobbed as if though he showed remorse for what he had done.
“Ah, but I knew you would eventually kill her. You were a ticking time bomb.”
“How could you know? I haven’t seen you in years until today.”
“That’s true, but a year ago you crossed paths with me in the worse way possible.”
“I don’t understand.”
I stepped closer to Tommy, about ten feet away and continued to enlighten him.
“I was married to an amazing woman. She had a great heart and always looked out for battered women. Imagine my surprise when you took Carla to the emergency room where she worked.
Tommy Tantrum’s face paled.
I continued, “Then when my wife, the doctor that tried to have you jailed, the same doctor that died in a suspicious accident. Well…”
As he rose from the sofa, I pulled out my .45 caliber pistol, equipped with a silencer.
He was about to speak but shut his mouth when I aimed my weapon at him.
“You’re poison Tommy Tantrum. You stole any chance I had with Carla and then you snuffed the life out of my wife.”
I pulled another sheet of plastic from the bag.
“Spread that on the floor for me.”
“How stupid do you think I am?”
“Actually, you haven’t checked if I cleaned your bedroom.”
His eyes popped.
“I’ll save you the time. Everything is the same mess only now your wife is chopped up and in these garbage bags.”
“Are you going to kill me or are you going to break your word and call the cops?”
I pumped a round, striking his belly.
“I promised discretion and I meant it.”
Tommy sprawled on the floor, his body writhing in a silent tantrum of death.
“You know, Tommy, at first I had planned on making this look like a murder suicide, but then I decided, no one is ever going to find your body, but they will find Carla’s.”
I stood near his head and watched as he whimpered.
“You took away any future I could have had with Carla. You took away my wife. So now I took your job away. My father is on the board of directors in that company. And lastly I’m taking away the illusion you tried so hard to maintain. You’ve never been a good man and now when your wife’s chopped up corpse is found, you will be a fugitive for your name is tarnished forever.

Tommy Tantrum was Extreme Cleaners first client and he most certainly would not be the last.

- 1, 268 words

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2014. All rights reserved.
A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

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.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

It's Raining Blood






It's Raining Blood
By Nomar Knight

It's raining blood
Tonight
Don't need a sharper sword
Cause vengeance will prevail
Tonight
Can't steal my dignity
Conniving little weasel
Treachery still stings my back
Tonight
Payback will rule until I see
Your head on a stick
Your heart on a plate
Your soul in my hands
Tonight
Everyone will know
What you did to me
Low-life foolish scoundrel
Tonight
Your pleas bounce off deaf ears
No one will save you
Tonight
It's raining blood 


©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.
A Knight Chills Poem.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Evil Side of Impulse






The Evil Side of Impulse
By Nomar Knight

We all make hundreds of decisions every day without thinking about the consequences.  Perhaps it’s because most of the decisions produce a desired result.  It starts with deciding on whether or not we want to get out of bed, to practicing good hygiene, to nourishing our bodies by fulfilling a desire.  (Tea, or coffee?)
What about crucial decisions?  What would happen if you’re on a crowded bus and an imbecile rushes to the only seat available, and allows a mother carrying a newborn to remain standing?  My impulse would be to grab the dude by his throat, and slam him against the doors with the hope that they’ll open, and he’ll drop into oncoming traffic.  (I know.  I may have anger issues).  Of course, what I’d probably do is get the others to rally around me and try and talk some sense into the insensitive clod.  If peer pressure doesn’t work, then I’m sure a kind person would be more than happy to give up their seat.  Naturally, my impulse would then be to follow the guy, and arrange for a serious “accident” to occur.  (It’s probably a horror writer thing).
There’s a mechanism in our brains that won’t allow us to act on our destructive side—our violent impulses.  That’s technically a good thing or jails would be even more overpopulated. 
Cheers to maintaining our peaceful side, but don’t be afraid, if the situation calls for it, to let the bad boy/girl out. 


Catch you on the dark side.

Nomar Knight


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

Monday, July 11, 2011

Living With Monsters: A Brief Look At Domestic Violence

Living With Monsters 



Living With Monsters: A Brief Look At Domestic Violence
By Nomar Knight

There may be a thin line between love and hate, but some lines should NEVER be crossed.  It’s bad enough that we’re surrounded by violence, but do we have to put up with that nonsense in our homes?  I don’t know what would possess a guy to hit a woman.  Although I’ve had my buttons pushed and in my mind I committed some atrocities, I never lost it to the point where I would lay a finger on a woman.
Here’s some National Data on Domestic Violence:
  • One in three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime.
    (Source: Sexual Assault Experiences and Perceptions of Community Response to Sexual Assault, 2001)
  • One out of every six American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime.
    (Source: Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)
  • On average, more than three women a day are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends in the United States.
    (Source: Family Violence Prevention Fund)
  • Every nine seconds, a woman is beaten in the United States.
    (Source: American Institute on Domestic Violence 2001)
  • Women ages 20-34 endure the highest rates of domestic violence.
    (Source: American Institute on Domestic Violence 2001)
  • Only about one in five domestic violence victims with physical injuries seek professional medical treatment.
    (Source: Bureau of Justice Statistics)
  • Sexual violence starts very early in life. More than half of all rapes of women (54%) occur before age 18; 22% of these rapes occur before age 12.
    (Source: Tjaden and Thoennes, 2000)
  • Intimate partner violence is the leading cause of injury to women. It affects 1-3 million women a year in the U.S., making it more common than muggings, stranger rapes and car accidents combined.
    (Source: Frisso JA et al., 1996. Tjaden P, Thoennes N, 1998)
  • Domestic crime against adults accounts for almost 15% of total crime costs: over $67 billion per year.
    (Source: Victim Cost and Consequences: A New Look. National Institute of Justice Research Report, Jan. 1996)
Okay, so this has been around for years and the numbers seem to be escalating.  I wonder when the madness will stop.  Like Rodney King said, “Can’t we all get along?”
Unfortunately, the chilling statistics spill over into medical costs.  Here a few more stunning stats:
Health Care and Violence
  • An estimated 10% - 20% of emergency department visits by women with intimate partners are a result of domestic violence.
    (Source: The Health of Washington State Domestic Violence, 2004)
  • 50% of all mental health care dollars are spent on adults who were abused as children.
    (Source: Victimization Costs and Consequences: A New Look. National institute of Justice 1996)
  • In an HMO study, abused women cost the plan 92% more than the general female population.
    (Source: Wisner, C.L., Gilmer, T.P., Saltzman, L.E., and Zink, T.M. Intimate partner violence against women: Do victims cost health plans more? Journal of Family Practice 48(6): 439-43)
  • More than 50% of abused women present with the following symptoms: fatigue, depression, anxiety, chest pain, back pain, abdominal pain, sleep disorder, shortness of breath, nausea/vomiting, headaches, decreased appetite, dizziness.
    (Source: Sutherland, C et al., 1998)
  • More than one third of sexual assault victims and battered women experience symptoms of depression.
    (Source: Toolkit to End Violence Against Women)
  • 46% of domestic violence victims have symptoms of anxiety disorder.
    (Source: Toolkit to End Violence Against Women)
  • If an injured victim of domestic violence is treated by a physician or nurse who does not inquire about abuse or who accepts an unlikely explanation of the injuries, and the patient then returns to the abusive situation and sustains further injuries, the physician or nurse could consequently be held liable for those injuries.
    (Source: AMA Guidelines on Domestic Violence, 1992)
I feel the best way to combat this problem is to educate, especially our male species.  Certainly we can rise above this and treat women with the respect and dignity they deserve.

Catch you on the dark side.

Nomar Knight

Statistics provided by Washington State Department of Health.

©2011 Copyright. Nomar Knight.  A Knight Chills presentation. 

Monday, May 16, 2011

Unleashing the Lust for Vengeance

Unleashing the Lust for Vengeance


Unleashing the Lust for Vengeance
By Nomar Knight

A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. ~ Baroness Orczy


In order to draw inspiration from the bowels of hate, a writer has to forget about his petty grievances, or become totally senile if his life is great, and plunge headfirst into the madness that is vengeance.  Sometimes events occur throughout history which may open our eyes to injustices that we can’t let pass.  People are massacred.  The weak are preyed upon, exploited, raped, or their souls deliberately broken.  As long as there is an enemy to identify, the righteous will find a cause to release the fire burning within. 
Ask yourself: what would you do if laws did not defend the rights of the wicked?  Let’s imagine that you happened to witness a man violating a ten-year-old child in an alley.  Would you try and take the heathen by yourself or would you yell about the man’s transgressions in the hope that others will join you in the pummeling of the wretched predator? 
While the mob mentality is akin to a wildfire dead-set on destruction, to tap into the emotions that hit each individual when he’s part of a mob is quite complicated for some.  For you see, a feeling of unity strikes the heart of most involved.  The leader gains power when others approve of how he’s handling the situation.  He can bash a bottle over the predator’s head and the more blood he draws from the tyrant, the more support he gains.  Perhaps a normally shy person will feel empowered enough to throw a brick at the man.  Then a few others, with eyes easily recognized in a wolf pack will want more blood, so two will kick the man’s head, three will vie for the a shot at his torso, and others will do their best to maim his legs so he can’t get away.  The sad thing is not that the mob took it upon itself to provide justice.  No, the sad thing is that they couldn’t control the fire burning within. 
Amazingly, rage is blinding and as a result may lead the aggressors to equal one hideous action with another.  Of course, not all of us lose control of our animalistic instincts at exacting vengeance.  I have no doubt at least one person in the crowd feared for the bad man’s life and went for help.  In fact, I’m sure another tried to stop the mob with shouts of, “Leave him alone!  You taught him a lesson, now let him go!”  
Unfortunately, we are but savage creatures when we choose to abandon reason in the hopes of righting a devastating wrong.  I admit that I become aggressive when witnessing a boxing match, particularly if I’m personally rooting for the underdog fighter.  If I’m watching the event live, the roar of the crowd sends my adrenaline soaring and for at least awhile, I want to jump in that ring and help my fighter.  I want to bash the other guy’s brains in. 
(Coughs). 
Yes, as a writer, I must tap into those emotions and show just how cruel we can be, yet in the name of vengeance, many people feel that violence is acceptable as long as it’s justifiable. 
Vengeance is a passion and passion is entertaining, even if it is vile.

Catch you on the dark side.


Nomar Knight