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...admit I've seen some gruesome things - while they probably have shaped me somehow, none ever frightened, disgusted or otherwise fazed me. That always made me wonder if I had no soul. But I was scared the night I met it. I don't know what it was or where it was from, but I know it should never have been on Earth.

It looked human, but its body was too long and thin to have been one. It was naked; its sex, ambiguous. Its head was tiny, round, bumpy and bald; its skin was thin, grey, scabbed and scarred with veins visible; its bones protruded; its eyes, yellow with red pupils; its ears, almost gone from injury; its nose, shattered. It had slender limbs with slender fingers and toes, and thick, pointed, dirty nails. It was crawling [hole] along the edge of the cliff when I spotted it. I didn't like it.

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I watched it sniff around in the dark. I should have left and dismissed it as an artifact of my fatigue, but I was fascinated by it. I saw something I couldn't explain, and I had to know what it was. I waited too long. It saw me. It saw that I had been watching it, and it didn't like that. It leaped towards me, jerked its head up, gazed at me, bared its sharp teeth and made a scream I will never forget. It sounded almost like a vacuum, but with an animal hoarseness to it. It was loud, [hole], sudden and intense. I was paralyzed from the moment it made eye contact.

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...did not attack me, yet it could have defeated me easily. Perhaps it was waiting for something... kept crawling slowly around me, taunting me with its laughter. It was either dancing, or preparing me for... I couldn't look at it, nor could I look away. The feeling was awful. I couldn't bear it. I screamed for two seconds, then ran. Once I reached the corner of the street, it was there, inches in front of me, gazing at me. I ran back the way I came, thinking that lightning never strikes the same place twice. There it was again in the field where I'd spotted it, waiting, and laughing heartily. I needed, for the purpose of saving face, to outsmart it.

I ran down the street again, opened the door to the Dogwood Apartment Complex, hoping I could hide from it there. I was wrong – as soon as I had pushed the door to arm's length, it appeared once again, two feet in front of me. At first its expression was blank, then it slowly smiled into a sharp, malicious grin, and it leaned towards me. I let go of the door and ran back into the field, ready to jump off the cliff in fear.

I expected to see it again in the field, and I did. It was waiting at the cliff's edge with impatience on its countenance. I couldn't jump. That was what it wanted. I was paralyzed again.

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It taunted me further. It screamed, with its vacuum-like voice... not understand, yet I knew what it was trying to do to me, and it... couldn't let it torture me, but I couldn't stop it. I... knees, and cried uncontrollably. I yelled at it. “What are you? What do you want from me? Why are you doing this? Why me?” I realized this was useless. It didn't understand or care. It wasn't going to stop until I jumped off the cliff, but I had to defeat it and I knew I couldn't. So I curled up on the ground, and I cried. I closed my eyes, but it was all I could see, screaming and laughing, surrounded by darkness. When I opened my eyes, it crouched down to me, snarling. When I moved my head, it followed. I had to defeat it, jump off the cliff, or let it haunt me for the rest of my life. I crawled towards the edge, then looked up. It was standing at the edge again with a victorious grin. I knew what it was.

I cried harder. Knowing what it was only made it worse. I didn't want to see it, battle it or even believe in it. The harder I cried, the more impatient it became. I feared it would pick me up and throw me off the cliff, but it wouldn't. It couldn't. It was so thin and frail, and I was too heavy for it to carry. If it weren't so small and swift, I could have crushed it. I looked up at it, tears still in my eyes. I will never know why I said what I said.

“I love you.”

It looked at me, gasped, then disappeared. Relieved, I went to watch the sunrise, and was not prepared to see hundreds of shrouded corpses at the bottom of the cliff.

It was time to go home. When I turned around, hundreds of witnesses were gathering and cheering in the once empty streets. I lifted the darkness that hung over Crater, and I was too ashamed of myself to accept the town's gratitude. I left Crater the following morning. I didn't like it that much anyway.

I am not, by any means, a hero.

Everything went black.
The intense pain shot through him, engulfing his whole being.
Waves of suffering threatened to drown him in anguish.
They had taken his strength by cutting his hair and now they had taken his eyes.

The once strong and mighty Samson, collapsed onto the cold marble floor. The former hero had fallen and what remained was an empty shell, less than the shadow of his previous self.

No one can rise against the mighty Philistines! Take him to the miller! He needs a stupid ox!

For days on end, trapped in the eternal night of blindness, Samson was forced to push the grinding stone. At first, he struggled to even stand on his own two legs, but, as each day followed the other, his hair started growing . He could feel his strength returning. The miller was keeping an eye on him, so Samson held back, just circling and circling.

The total monotony and solitary forced him to relive his life's memories over and over. He knew that God had intended for him to be a leader and had equipped him with the brute force to single-handedly become the most formidable enemy the Philistines had ever known. Although he knew that God had primed him, Samson realized that, at times, he had just marveled at his own might. Being able to, for instance, kill a thousand warriors with the jawbone of a donkey had made him feel invincible.

Samson came to the conclusion that he had not been tuned into Gods word as he should have.
As he felt his strength return with the growth of his hair, Samson knew, that God still wanted him to fulfill his destiny. He would wait; God would give him the time and place.

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All hail Dagon!

The Philistines were celebrating the capture of Samson. A huge festival in honor of their god, Dagon, had been arranged and many people had come to see the spectacle.

One of the chieftains held out his goblet. Where is the mighty Samson now? I need someone to crack open another barrel of wine.
When the eruption of laughter died down a bit, a high-ranking army official stood up and banged his fist on the table.

Bring the former warrior forth, to entertain our worthy guests!

Some servants rushed out of the big temple. After a while they returned, the slumping figure of the once forceful man between them.

Take him to the center-stage!

In the middle of the huge structure was a small circular platform where the centre-pillars of the temple rose from there stone foundations. The servants guided Samson up the marble steps.

Please let me stand on my own two feet.

The servant closest to Samson barely heard his request, but, having also endured constant ridicule from his masters, felt some compassion for this fallen barbarian. He gently placed Samsons hands on the pillars.

May your God be with you.

Although much of his strength had returned, Samson knew that he was still too weak to face the Philistine forces alone.

God, if it is your will, please make me powerful again, for one last time.

Slowly, Samson felt the strength seep back into his body. His legs once again became confident under him. His arms consticted around the pillars, like snakes around their hapless prey. The super-human strength he had once taken for granted, returned to his body. The broken man, who had stumbled in minutes before, was transformed again into the powerful and feared Samson.

Come on Samson! Show us what youve got! A piece of fruit was flung trough the air.

Samson continued to pull at the pillars, his muscles once again bulging with unmeasured strength. At first the pillars stood like marble mountains, unmoved by his efforts, then a peaces of plaster fell from the ceiling.

Some of the Philistines saw what was happening and started to panic.

Hes going to pull down the temple!

Cracks formed around the bases of the pillars. Samson could feel the stone starting to give.

Let me die with them, oh God!

The mass of people started panicking, pushing at each other to get out of the building. Some didnt realize what was happening and pushed back.

Then, as if hit by a massive earthquake, the once mighty building swayed and started falling in on itself. Samson felt the pillars give. The end was near.

The deafening roar of the falling building almost masked the screams of thousands of forsaken people. In death, Samson had killed more of his enemies, than he had killed in a whole lifetime.

Rain falls. Rain always falls. That's one of the first things the colony noticed when they landed on the rock. When scientists first discovered the planet, or to be more precise, when the robotic sentry first discovered the planet and sent pictures back to Earth, there was a great buzz about the planet and the success of the little round robot. There was water on the planet and the possibility of sustaining life.

Nouvel Espoir (New Hope) reacted well to the terraforming machines that had been transported through twelve years of space. Earth, was dying and in another hundred years or so the sun would follow suit.

One thousand humans; men, woman and children landed on the planet when it was deemed habitable. New service robots (SR-2) that were built to serve mankind and to maintain project TONE (Terraforming Of Nouvel Espoir). Those in charge of the operation believed that the level of intelligence of the robots should be raised to accommodate the complexities of maintaining a multi billion dollar planet re-birther. The new chip was implanted into ten of the thirty SR-2s.

Within the month one thousand people became five hundred.

The upgraded SR-2s. ran amok slaughtering men, women and children. Robotic parts that were intended for servicing became tools of murder. People ran and hid from the machines but, the machines were smart and the A.I. predicted their movements. Survivors hoped the rain would take its toll on the killers. But the robots were designed to withstand the elements and the rain only worked against the humans flushing them out from their holes to meet with a watery death. No weapons had been brought to the peaceful planet. Rudimentary weapons were fashioned by the dwindling survivors, but they were no match for the bots and their progressive A.I.. The future looked bleak as the colony numbers fell week after week. Each week witnessed new and gruesome ways to die. As the people were destroyed, stabbed, chocked, ripped apart or drowned the bots developed new ways to expand their knowledge of death and destruction. New parts were acquired from the standard SR-2s all in a quest for perfection of TONE.

The new hope had become mankind's last stand. That was, until, one of the bots was found destroyed. It had been decommissioned, methodically disassembled and parts laid out on the ground. There had been no apparent struggle, no indication of a battle of any kind. The next week saw another five robots removed from existence. The first three, again, no struggle but, the fourth and fifth showed signs of resistance with pieces of bent metal lying close to their place of rest. Someone was fighting back.

The next three weeks saw another four hundred and fifty humans wasted by the remaining four SR-2s. They were cleansing the planet, ridding the TONE project of any obstruction. One small group of ten survivors huddled together, inside a large pipe they'd pushed over onto its side, as a faint humming sound got nearer. In their hearts they feared that death, called DB-2, had found them. Metal sheets were thrown from the front of the pipe and a mechanical hand thrust in followed by a great flash of light. The pipe was filled with screams.
A dim beam of light scanned each person before moving over a destroyed SR-2, turned off then nothing was heard but the sound of rain falling onto the pipe. Someone had saved them, but who?

The rest of the colony hid in the main reactor, the heart of TONE. The SR-2s were on the planet to ensure total protection and survival of TONE. Nothing would jeopardise its success, not even humans. That was the one flaw in their original programming. Two of the robots pounded at the external doors, until eventually breaking through and moving inside. The third robot turned quickly as it was approached from behind. It raised an arm to strike but the arm was ripped from its socket. Bare wires sparked. The robot had no eyes but it could see that its existence would soon come to an end. The head of the SR-2 was ripped from its body and the pieces fell to the ground.
Inside the compound, the two SR-2s had just broken down the last of the barrier doors. As one stuck its arm through a panel in the door the other was smashed off the wall with great force. The first robot removed its arm from the door and turned to see a crumpled DB-2 on the ground, and hovering over it, a smaller round robot. The original sentry robot had destroyed all but one of the rogue SR-2s. His mission was to protect and sustain human life.
The last SR-2 flew straight for the sentry and slammed it against the wall. The little round robot ripped one arm from its foe before being forced to the ground. Each of the robots had ripped essential parts from the other as metal pieces flew around the corridor. With one final brave gesture, the round robot passed most of his electrical energy to the larger one forcing it to shut down.

As the people gathered round the little round rusty hero, it gave one last chirp and died, finally defeated by the rain.

Mitch Jackson, early 30’s, drives his beat up Chevy 1978 pick up truck downtown for a luncheon with his girlfriend, Karen.

The Sun beating down on the black pavement of the Los Angeles city streets made for a hotter than normal summer day in July.

People rushing to pass him by in their expensive cars while talking or texting on cell phones, not really paying much attention to what is around them; Mitch drives slowly as if shopping the surrounding fashion district.

The traffic lights always blink, as does all electronics, when Mitch gets close enough. A physician would say Mitch was human, but not any human can stand in the doorway of several dimensions at the same time, or control the last 24 hours with a simple snap of the fingers.

From green to red, the light blinks continuously and catches a brand new, shiny black Mercedes Benz off guard, screeching to a smoky stop.

Mitch, with a faint smile, also steps on his breaks of his pick up truck, but doesn’t stop in time and hits the rear end of the Benz.

The driver’s side door of the Benz flies open. Popping out like a jack in the box, a small person, a midget, full of tattoos, a muscle shirt and a bad temper runs to the back of the car.

“What did you do?” Pointing at Mitch who was still poised inside his truck.

“Look at my beautiful car…my brand new car!”

Mitch squeaks open the door to his truck, steps out and approaches the little person.

“Look at what you did”! The little person screams at Mitch.

“I’m sorry sir.” Sizing up, Mitch finally speaks.

“Sorry? Sorry? Is that all you can say…Sorry?!” The little person pokes Mitch in the belly with a stubby finger. “I’m not happy, not happy at all.” Poking his finger again in Mitch’s belly. “Do you know who I am?”

Mitch, not reacting to the finger poking, “Are you Grumpy?”

The midget stands there in shock and looks at Mitch, catching the reference.

“If you’re not Grumpy, then you must be Dopey.” Mitch, now showing his faint smile again “Awe, c’mon now, don’t you be bashful.”

The midget reacts to the sarcasm, “Well, I am Killer D," retorted self importantly "and I am about to ruin your day.” Reaching inside the Mercedes Benz Killer D pulls out a black, Smith and Wesson nine millimeter and turns pointing the hand gun at Mitch.

Mitch without showing any reaction bends over and puts his head against the barrel of the weapon. “There are no bullets in it killer, I took them out.”

Killer D pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He pulls again, and again. Still nothing happens.

“What the world is going on?”

“Look at me, Grumpy” Mitch stares through the midget like a laser beam. Killer D looks up. “You’re a killer alright. Murderer is more like it.”

Killer D confused, “What are you talking about dude?”

“You were going to kill me just a second ago, and you would have shot and killed my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?” agitated, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Killer D throws the weapon in the Benz. “You’re a big scary man aren’t you?” Killer D climbs in the Benz, and shuts the door. “Screw you.” Flips Mitch the finger, puts the car in gear and begins to speed off.

Mitch, as if in a trance, closes his eyes. Standing in the middle of the street, the sound of the city quiets and the world around him stops. Mitch opens his eyes, raises his hand and snaps his fingers. Like a magician, or some expensive Hollywood special effect, as if a tape recorder had been rewound, time is reset back five minutes in the past.

Mitch is once again behind the wheel of his Chevy pick up truck, driving slowly down the fashion district.

In his mirror, the black Mercedes Benz catches up and tries to over take the truck.

Mitch speeds up and starts to race Killer D.

Once again, the traffic lights start blinking from green to red.

Mitch, matching speed with the Benz, throws Killer D a wave of his hand.

Killer D not knowing what is going on flips off Mitch through his smoke tinted windows.

The pick up truck slows and turns into the Benz, clipping the rear end. The Benz starts to turn uncontrolled, hits the curb and wraps around the pole of the traffic light as it stops blinking red.

Mitch speeds off without stopping to see what damage he has caused. Looking in his mirror, all he can see is a lot of smoke, a wrecked Benz, and people coming to help Killer D. “Big jerk.”

Ten minutes later, Mitch shows up at the restaurant. Looking over, he sees Karen by her self, crossing the street, unaware of what could have happened to her.

Mitch squeaks open the truck door and steps out.

Karen sees him and waves. Mitch waves back.

They meet each other on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant and embrace.

Holding onto Karen, not wanting to let her go, Mitch looks deep into her eyes, “I love you.”

Karen plays off Mitch’s emotion “I love you too.” pausing “Are you okay?” Karen examines Mitch.

Mitch, with a big grin plastered on his face “I am now.”