Gabriel's Tell A Tale Emporium

After seeing Star Wars: The Last Jedi today and browsing through comments in fan pages, I saw a lot of complaining and butt hurt. Please kindly fill out this prescreening form, roll it in a moist towelette and shove it up your ass. The Force Awakens wasn't good enough for these people because it used too many elements of A New Hope and was too driven by nostalgia. Now these same people are   butt hurt about the Last Jedi because it's too different and allegedly ruins characters and is full of plot holes. What y'all are really hurt about is that it totally blew away all preconceptions, theories, and expectations that fand spent the last two years making up out the water. You're entitled to that opinion. Personally, I think most Star Wars fans are afraid of change. They want things to stay familiar and the same. Star Wars as a franchise would not survive this long if it just kept rehashing the same old shit. It needed to expand the mythos, change up the characters, and ...

Depression has never been more real to me until recently. It sucks your will to do anything. Getting up in the morning is a chore. Work is irritating when it's not keeping you busy. The hours drag and drag. Studying is next to impossible. Your family and friends get on your nerves with the smallest comment. They try to make it better for you but no words or actions help to fill the ache that engulfs your entire mind and body. You try to lose yourself in material possession by buying things to make you feel better. That little hit of serotonin in your brain means the world. It doesn't last though. It passed by as quick as it came. At times the pain becomes unbearable. Your eyes well up and you fight just to hold back the tears as you stand in line at McDonald's or in a public washroom. There are good moments though.  There are times when things almost seem normal again and life goes on. Life is always worth living and exploring, but I finally think I understand what it means...

A snow flake falls. The freeze sets in. The heart turns cold, unable to express it's constricting thoughts, unable to beat again. The night lays heavy on two families at war. They fight with one another, once friends from before. The clock ticks on in the silence. Time moves ever on. All souls tormented, even when the light shines, they never really meet the dawn. Death lays it's nimble fingers on these two homes. It sneaks and snakes through the cracks made of concrete and stone. The death of a daughter resonates for those  immediate and those known as step. Peculiar she was with a grin beyond her era, a smirk, a laugh, it reminds me of a dancing chime. A smile that withers a mother's rosy completion and has frozen her sense of time. I, myself, remember in that moment as the wind swept back her hair. The new family gathers for pictures, but we just sit back and stare. She smiles a sad smile and looks off into the crowd. I sat there beside her feeling a sense of forebodin...

Chapter 7-Right in the Bollocks Those dead eyes cast back no glimmer of recognition at Oliver’s question. “Tommy?” Oliver asked again as the blue-eyed assassin walked up to Oliver and withdrew an arrow from his quiver. Examining the green painted head of the arrow thoughtfully the assassin tapped the tip until it punctured his onyx colored glove.   A drop of crimson escaped the fresh gash and mixed with the forest green of the arrowhead.   Reaching down to pick Oliver’s discarded bow the assassin took a step back, turned, nocked the arrow and drew the bow string back to his cheek. “Don’t do it,” Oliver said watching his captor take careful aim in his direction. The assassin’s grip on the bow string loosened.   With an echoing twang the bow string jumped back into rest position as the arrow sped out from the bow toward Oliver. “Aaaaarh!” Oliver screamed as the arrow pierced his left shoulder at the joint connecting his arm to his torso.   ...

Chapter 6-Rebirth “Wake up kid,” a far off voice spoke in the murky recesses of Oliver’s mind. A sharp pain in front of his eyes brought Oliver up from the black sea of nothingness blinking through the pain he slowly opened his eyes just in time to see an orange gauntleted hand come in on the left side of his face in an open palm slap that snapped his head to the side. Coughing as his mouth filled with the warm metallic taste of his own blood, Oliver shook off the fresh wave or stinging pain that engulfed his head. Spitting out a wad of blood, mucus, and saliva onto the dull gray floor a superhuman grip cupped his jaw and yanked his head back up in a sudden jerking motion that caused a new wave of pain to shoot from his neck and down his spine. A small groan escaped Oliver’s lips as he stared into the single brown eye Slade Wilson’s face. Where the other eye should have been a black eye patch elegantly rested on the right side of his face. The hair of his well-trimmed brow...

Chapter 5-Water Makes Things Wet “How is she?” Oliver asked. “She’s stable,” Bruce’s voice crackled over the phone. “The bullet missed her heart by half an inch. The doctors have stopped the bleeding and sowed her up. Felicity will have a hasty sear and she’ll have to day in bed for a few weeks, but she is alive. “Good,” Oliver sighed in relief. “I’m …I’m sorry Oliver,” Bruce said. “That bullet was most likely meant for me. If I hadn’t…” “It’s already done,” Oliver grunted, tempering the anger he felt towards Bruce with a quick breath and an iron grip on his bow. “Just make sure she is safe.” “I will,” Bruce replied firmly. “I’m leaving Alfred here with Felicity. My presence will only bring more harm them good. I’m removing myself from the equation. I’m heading back to Gotham tonight. You should be here Oliver.” “Once I find Lawton I’ll stop by,” Oliver growled and hung up the phone. Hitting the speed dial on the phone with a quick tap of his gloved...