The Facepalm

Publishing Veritas Academy's finest facepalm moments

Month: February, 2013

Genesis of the Shadows, Part of a Novel in Progress, by J.R. Diehl

by facepalmforever



3572 B.C.
A solitary form could be seen hovering slightly above the pale, sickly green grass. He was tall and thin, and his figure radiated power and wisdom. He was aged, but his stature betrayed none of his 90 years. He seemed to gaze into the sky, though he had no face.

“It is time,” he thought. “It is time that I, Ha-ne-se, brought forth my people. I shall be known eternally as the progenitor of my race, the Ne-se!” He stalked over to one of the wispy, bare trees. The being knew not if these trees had always been the dark, immaterial things that they were, or if they had once been something else, something tangible he could not touch.

This world was one of shadows, he observed, watching through cloudy, invisible eyes as a four-legged shadow-beast dashed across the vast, silent plain. The trees were shadows that any physical being would pass through. The grass was faded and only partly in the material dimension. Creatures here galloped about, some tearing into the dark flesh of prey while others fled from the vicious predators; all shadows. Even the land itself was only partly solid, and great sections of the landscape, though they appeared to be real, were only shades of land. Standing on one such expanse, Ha-ne-se looked up to the sky, where the black disc of the sun hung, giving off rays of shadow and beams of darkness. This was a planet of ghosts, a planet perfect for the Ne-se.

Ha-ne-se had been alone for 90 years. His mind had pondered many things. He had made thousands of discoveries, using his mysterious knowledge of the material, and his own powerful thoughts to imagine and simulate them. However, he could not make his discoveries a reality, for they required what he could not have-connection with the tangible realm. He did, however, know himself. He knew of his greatest strengths: the power of his mind and will and his ability to drain the life from physical beings, allowing him to manipulate their forms. In a form, he took on that being’s abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. If he could find a material being, then he would at last be capable of interaction with the physical realm!

First, though, he would bring into being the second of the race of the Ne-se. He concentrated, and channeled his thoughts toward Duplication. His form began to shake, and rays of shadow streaked from him. Time passed, and he trembled more violently, the streaks of shadow becoming massive waves of darkness emanating from him. Finally, a rip was torn in space and another shadow began to emerge from the rift. When the being was fully formed, Ha-ne-se spoke to the new Ne-se’s consciousness.

“My child,” he said in the deep, stately voice of his mind, “I am Ha-ne-se, the First Living Shadow, father of our race. Our future people will need a leader. I have my own quest, and cannot take on this demanding role. Therefore, as first of the Ne-se, I declare you to be the ruler of our race, and I give you the name Ha-esh, First Ruler.”
However, Ha-ne-se did not know that 90 years before, at the time of his birth –at the time he had rejected his Creator and called himself God, he had been cursed. He would live for millennia and continue to pursue his quest for the material, and he would, at last, be rewarded. His success would become his downfall, though, and in his mad lust for their physical forms, he would be driven insane, and his own people would be forced to slay him. And, at that moment 90 years ago, another being was created, and he was called Adam, the first of the human race, the race that would be the downfall of the Ne-se.


A Pastoral, by Nicole Bernard

by facepalmforever


By Nicole Bernard

The harsh din of dogs snarling and growling rose up to the luminescent full moon that shone down lustrously on an old abandoned warehouse situated in a dirty back street downtown. Inside the aging walls and boarded windows, a vicious brawl was going on between two pit-bulls. The howls and yips of bystanders placing their bets and cheering on their contender filled the dusty air. The warehouse still bore its faded sign, Cozy Candle Corner, from its former years as a candle warehouse, but now functioned as a fight club for the city’s feral animals and was known on the street as “The Triple C”. In the dimly lit basement below, Tyrone, a sly Siamese with a dark face and lissome body, shot a leery glance at the bag of catnip on the table in front of him. He looked up with his shifty blue eyes at the large, furry body across the table. Big Daddy Deshawn sat condescendingly with a smug grin on his face. His entourage of lady tabbies gazed dotingly on his long whiskers and menacing furry mane.

“I’ll give you two mice for it, tops,” Tyrone proposed.

“Nah, man, you tryin’ to mess with me here? How you expect me to make a decent living selling nip for two mice a sack?”  Big Daddy Deshawn replied as he flashed his diamond-grill studded fangs. Tyrone scowled in disgust. He slunk away from the table, giving the impression he was out of the deal, and right when Big Daddy Deshawn began to turn his attention back to his lady tabbies, Tyrone turned around with lightning quick speed and seized the sack of nip in a single swoop. In the same instant he was up the stairs and out of sight. Seething with rage, Big Daddy Deshawn mewled out in wrath and bolted up the stairs, right after Tyrone. The two cats tore down the back street away from the fight club at breakneck speed. They darted in and out of alleys, across busy streets, through the graveyard on the outskirts of town, and finally ended up at the train station. Tyrone, having significantly less pudge than Big Daddy Deshawn to haul around, began to gain more and more distance between them, and so, believing he was safe, he slowed to a stop and rested behind a light pole. Just as he began to catch his breath, Big Daddy Deshawn appeared out of seemingly nowhere and made a flying leap toward Tyrone. Quickly coming to his senses, Tyrone bolted away as fast as his legs could carry him. However, fueled by massive amounts of adrenaline and rage, Big Daddy Deshawn was closing in fast. Tyrone spotted a train that was pulling away from the station. In a moment of brilliance, be darted straight for an open hopper car and right as Big Daddy Deshawn was making his final fatal pounce, Tyrone leaped into the car and sped off down the track, leaving Big Daddy Deshawn furiousy hissing in the dust. In his exhaustion, Tyrone dragged his weary body to an empty crate and fell into a deep sleep.

buy some nip

Tyrone was started awake by a loud whistle and the train jolting to a stop. With eyes still closed, he shot out his paw to catch his nip that was rolling away, claws outstretched. He slowly retracted it back to his groggy body, gave a drowsy yawn, and arched his back in a stretch. Deciding it was best to understand his new surroundings; he hopped out of the car and pranced away from the depot. He was not in the midst of a bustling train station, but, rather, a quick country stop in a tiny one-horse town. Tyrone slunk around, peeping in and out of the general store, sniffing around the lumber mill, and exploring other such places. But when a tiny yellow butterfly fluttered past his ears, his inner kitty instincts could not be hindered and he began to playfully chase it around. It eventually led him back to the store and into the bed of an old, blue truck. Still highly enthralled with his little dainty prey, Tyrone didn’t even notice the truck beginning to back away and speed off down the road. When the truck began to pick up enough speed, the butterfly was swept away in a gust of wind, leaving Tyrone sitting very confused and disoriented in the back of a foreign truck, its distance from the town ever increasing. Tyrone simply rolled his glassy blue eyes and curled up next to a hay bale, tucking his nip safely underneath his arms.

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