“Michael Brown and the new two wrongs may reveal the right.” by Angel Brynner AOLAB 17AUG2014

…So …the riots are all over CNN in the tv room.
Been Oddly reticent on this one. But here goes:

Should this kid have been shot?No.
Yep-it’s that plain & simple. & it would be to ANY parent if they put their own child’s face in the place where THAT kid hit the ground. Imagine your daughter on the ground after putting her hands up, no matter what she did. No matter how Black or blond that daughter is, the answer is still no. That making it a “daughter” makes some people get that in a way they couldn’t over a son is a whole other post.

…BUT- parents acting like any demon-possessed kid [of any skin color]was an angel when the kid is robbing & choking folks[ if it IS him] actually IS some mess that grew old decades ago.

Should he have stolen anything OR choked anyone? No…but the cop didn’t even know he was a suspect in that. So…bluntly stated, there’s no legal stance the cops can take to cover that jerk’s ass…and THEY need to string his ass up on their own before those they’re supposed to protect justly burn that city to the ground in “protest” of their so-called “protection.”

JUST as much as parents-ACROSS THE COLOR BOARD- need to be Raising their kids to be decent individuals instead of “copping out” … until crap just like this goes down where they can cry in the cameras shoved in their faces for the morbid entertainment of sick masses. This is being said from an area where both sides of the color line fail HORRIBLY on that mess.

But the irony of the collision of those two kind of fuses… the irony of THAT there MESS is not lost on me. And in all this madness being stirred up on both sides… i feel like much of IT is because its not lost on you guys either. There’s a strange panic to all this. BUT Ironically…this f’d situation with seriously questionable vibes on both sides MAY be the only way the falsely victimized nuances both sides of this hide behind to keep doing their fucked shit…that neither side wants to own …will forcibly be broached.

Until the Lohans and Ryders of the world are getting winged by Barney’s guards for doing sim shoplifting mess no one’s going to be shouting “fairs” on this. That they tried to make it look like a black cop did the shooting is more insidiously foul than trying to release the cctv shots which had nothing to do with why the cop took aim.

But here’s the rub: This country grew both of these folks.

& “within your children lay God’s judgment against you-” can get really deep really quick. We’ve been avoiding dealing with the blunt details of this dynamic for a while.

Is this modern-day lynch-mob mentality? Yes. Sadly. An already violently disturbed mentality has turned in on itself after being swept under the rug for generations, presenting itself as much more of an aberration in these latter-days of possible plenty than ever before. But lying like feral folks championed in odd ways within and without our impoverished communities [Martha Stewart brags over hardcore rap being top played on her ipod] has not been going on for a very,very long time is part of the problem. It’s two sides of the same fucked coin that we keep “losing” so as not to deal.

AND…we’re going to have to deal with it.
Which sucks. Or our kids on both sides are going to end up wiped out by our refusal to handle this mess once and for all.

I truly believe there are less racist assholes in this country in 2014.
But i ALSO know for a fact that the hardcore jerks have raised their offspring HARD and suckled them long on that racist juice off in the cut.
Which has produced some fucked up people…as well as a slew of people who see how sick their parent’s racism IS and want nothing to do with it. Both sides of the color-line on that one too.

Which means we may actually have a fucking chance as a people.

My heart goes out to those of you reading this that are literally LIVING in the MIDST of this rioting mess. People forget when they’re gawking at the television that very real people live their lives where the latest spectacle and firebombs are jumping off.

But for  this kid to have come up and then fallen down the way he did there…means the mess was already foul there under the rug for a very long time. Which makes my heart go out to you all even more. The mourning you’re going through with all eyes on you due to the way this kid lost( and may have lived) his life… feels like a long time coming.

Was he a good kid, a bad one? Technically a good man? A bad man?

He is a human who got gunned down in the streets in an area rife with injustice at the hands of cops.

Martyrdom is very real. Even in 2014. And sometimes its the only thing that works.




CHAPTER 32/EXCERPT FROM EXILE by Angel Brynner [workinprogress] 14AUG2014

chapter thirty two

Licks of fire slowly danced down the frame of the red door, across the black baseboards of the wall then silently to the center of the hallway and pooled into flaming footprints that made a slow but brazen bee-line for the mother and child, one imprint into the fastidiously clean cream carpet runner at a time.

About a yard from where the two bodies slept the flame prints were stopped through no desire of their own. The fire built up into itself where it had been stopped until a form of fire loomed over the two who breathed peaceably in sleep in the first time in forever. The sulfuric being slammed forward again and again into whatever had stopped the reunion it had so greedily desired. The fire roared, building itself up for one final attempt and was sent flying backwards upon impact, landing in a heap of flames in front of the red painted neighbor’s door.

The sulfuric pile careened wildly back down the hall then tried to skid to a stop, flames flying ahead of him as the elevator doors pinged open and two old people slowly stepped out into the hall. In a blink of an eye, two heavily armored Guardian Angels flashed into the atmosphere for the fire coated demon to see, one charging after it viciously as it dove for cover into the red door, scattering droplets of flame in its wake. The other turned and stepped towards the grandparents of the newly dedicated child passed out on the floor with his mom, unaware of the teeny lick of flame that skidded across the bridge of the boys nose before it singed the carpet runner beside him on the floor.

Baby- Oh-Dear Lord-” The Grandmother screeched as she fell onto her husband at the sight of her broken child then lunged towards her filth-stained daughter who held her son in her blood and gunk caked junkie-arms. “Please God, no! I always knew she’d wash up dead on our-” the old woman cried out in fear.

Danise! Gabryl!” The grandfather cried out and fell on his knees as he shook the two of them.

His heart raced as he put his fingers against both of their necks and felt for their pulses.”They’re- they’re breathing, baby-They’re alive-” He whispered as his terrified wife fell back against him again on the floor in a heap. ”Everything’s gonna- gonna be okay.” the old man mumbled as he wiped the crud off his grown child’s face. “She’s- she’s back from the dead and everything’s- everything’s gonna be okay this time- i can feel it-”

Three generations stayed sprawled on the floor until Gabryl quietly came to.

Grandma! Grandperey!” he cried out in shock and flung himself halfway out of his mothers embrace into theirs.

CHAPTER 28-29/EXCERPT FROM EXILE by Angel Brynner [workinprogress] 14AUG2014

chapter twenty eight

Breathlessly, Kamala-Amala stopped short at the threshold of the dojo.

Her Grand-Uncles were all folded down on their knees in front of the family crest with their backs to the wild-child. She tiptoed in and took her place a throws reach behind them as they all meditated.

Clusters of neighborhood kids of every color in matching uniforms were scattered to the left and right of the backs of the wizened brothers. Kamala was the only one not appropriately dressed, as usual, and a soft smirk spread across her face as she knew just which one was going to loudly point that out and try to punish her for it.

Uncle Ma sniffed at the air and whipped around angrily. “You-” he growled.

Da Bogong-” Kamala bowed respectfully but never took her eyes off the old man who absently rubbed his left hipbone as he narrowed his eyes. “I mean Jiaoshi-”she murmured. Soft snickers gurgled in the back of the clusters of students eager to see the two of them go at it again.

Wait-” Uncle Yu mumbled gently, his voice like the summer storms he’d been named in honour of as he quietly spun around on his knees. The other brothers followed.

You stink-” Unlce Ma spat as he rubbed his left hip more theatrically.

It was the other hip, Jiaoshi-” Kamala whispered. Uncle Ma gnashed his teeth at her. She smiled sweetly at all of them and gently bowed to her elders, then whipped her head around to the groups of kids and glared. The children all dutifully bowed to the uncles too.

Displacement-” Uncle Yu grinned at the happily violent girl they all knew and loved. “You made his other hip have to work harder using his own technique and he’s pissed. Why do you smell like sulfur?”

Kamala shrugged because she really had no answer for him. Incensed at the explanation given by his older brother, Uncle Ma lunged for her but the hem of his robe was caught by Uncle Huoyan to his right.

“Wait-” Uncle Huoyan grunted, his voice crackling like the fire he was nicknamed after.

chapter twenty nine

She ran until she couldn’t run anymore through the streets of the city. It felt alien to her due to her all but permanent residency in never-neverland until now. She’d disconnected from it for so long that her panicked heart relied on nothing but built-in homing mechanisms as she sprinted like the wolves of her addiction howled on her heels.

She wasn’t running from her disease for herself. She’d given up on herself the moment she saw that no one who was supposed to cared enough to keep very real beasts in a very real world that loomed around them at bay, when she’d been as small as the all but catatonic child in her arms. She ran like a spirit stolen from the depths of hell for nothing but God-given hope for him.

When she looked up, she was at the bottom of the stoop she used to play jacks on. Confused, she looked down at her son, her brain so garbled that she could not tell whether he was sleeping or passed out and flew into a fit.

Frantic, she leaned on every bell until someone let her through the double doors. She slammed up the six flights of stairs to a hallway that was familiar yet whited out of her memory at the same time. She froze in front of her beleaguered parents door. The green paint on it glistened peacefully in contrast to the deep ecru walls  and almost ebony wooden planks of the partially carpeted hallway.

Twisted visions of flames circled the red door of the neighbor down the hall where so much had gone wrong so long ago. They stabbed at the edge of her adult eyes as she banged at her parents’ locked door then collapsed against it with her child still knocked out in her arms, baptized by his mothers tears at nobody being home when she’d needed them to be once again. The mother cried herself to sleep protectively curled around the body of her son, eyes slammed shut as every sinew in her body tried to make her look back down the hall at the red door all her insanity had violently begun behind when she was barely bigger than him.

CHAPTER 27/EXCERPT FROM EXILE by Angel Brynner [workinprogress] 14AUG2014

chapter twenty seven

The little boy rubbed his eyes.

Where is she?” Where did she-” He angrily pushed his way through the piles of dozing adults in the darkened room. He held his breath as the stench that would haunt him the rest of his existence rose up out of everything and everyone in never-neverland around him. The rooms and clumps of bodies to peer through in search of his mom seemed to go on forever as he made his way through the shot-gun style apartment.

Mommy!” he whispered as he pushed hair out of this and that face again and again in search of his mother in a madness his young brain had already learned to steel itself against, the way all kids born in warzones instinctively learn to do. When he could search no more, he squatted down like the little lost boy that he was and quietly started to sob.

Gahbloom-?” a woman cried out softly in response to her firstborn child’s wails. “Baby-baby where are you?” she slurred, her tongue still thick with whatever she’d taken as she started to come back down.

“-Mommy?” He looked up hesitantly, face wet with tears as he tried to decipher whether it was a dream or she was really there, and if so, figure out where her voice was coming from.

Here-here I am, Gahbloomy~” she whispered from deep within a pile of bodies he had wandered past. “…here I am, baby-”

He ran to the pile and started screaming as he tried to claw his way in to her.

Mommy!!Ma!Get off her!Get- OFF!” He howled.

Yo! Somebody shut that motherfucking kid up!” a disembodied voice bellowed as angry murmurs of agreement went up around them.

Baby-baby-here i am-here i-come here-come here,baby-” the mother whispered weakly as she held up arms corroded with thin dried rivulets of blood. The little boy crashed into his mothers arms and shook as he sobbed against her. “shhh~Shhh,baby…it’s alright…i’m here…i’m…i’m on my way back riight now-”

The little boy couldnt stop shivering or crying in his mother’s emaciated arms. “You know-you know you’re the blessed and the best of me…you know that right, little boy?” the mother whispered softly as she came to a bit more with each terrified shake of her son against her broken heart. “That’s why I- that’s why I call you my …my Gahbloom~ because-” she stopped as her senses came all the way back on with a slash of shame as where she’d come to with her poor child in her arms.

Because- because I’m dirt-” She whispered harshly against the top of the little boy’s head as the smell of the drug den raped her senses. “I’m- I’m nothing but-but fucking dirt- but…but you? You, baby?You are my flower- you’re like a flower to me-you hear-you hear me? You’re my proof God still loves me because he grew the goodness of you in me-” She whispered as her words sunk into herself and him. Then and there she decided to do her best by him from here on out, by the grace of a God who had brought her viciously back to her senses with the sound of her child’s sobs screeching outside of the hole she had crawled into.

The demonic reality of the hell she had brought him into ripped across her clearing senses, demanding she fall back from her decision, but she refused. She might never forgive herself for the filth she’d come to in, but she was going to to do right by him, give him the chance to be somebody, even with his light mothered by one walking around with such a broken soul.

You- you’re gonna remember that, right?” She whispered harshly. The boy sniffed loudly as his tears dried up. He nodded softly, feeling warmth push back into his mom’s bony arms from the pit of a soul she had forgotten she’d had. When the demons saw her tipping point had been crossed, they malevolently stirred up the carrion and cattle drugged out around the two of them.

Shut that fucking babbling up!” Someone screamed.

Yeah! And-Get that crying kid out of here!!” another woman wailed.

Can we- can we go?” the little boy whispered. His mother nodded as she struggled to stand up out of the abyss she had retreated into for the final time. Still hunched over, at the last moment she gently grabbed his face and kissed the little boy’s tears away. His face glowed with love for her as power flooded into her from the wetness of his tears on her lips as she straightened up all the way.

All of a sudden a gnarled old man in a nearby pile caught sight of the little boy’s glowing face and he lost his mind at the idea of a little cherubic-like angel in the midst of his own personally purchased Hell. “That light! That light!” a half-devoured man screeched.

Get him out of here Now!Now!” another howled and lunged at them as little Gabryl’s mother scooped him up in her arms. Strength blossomed out of nowhere and the mother swung on the man violently, knocking him to the ground with an explosive left hook.

Get out! Get out before We all tear you apart!!” the gnarled man roared from the bruised pile on the floor as the mother ran out of the drug den with her terrified child swinging wildly in her arms.

CHAPTER 24-25/EXCERPT FROM EXILE by Angel Brynner [workinprogress] 14AUG2014

chapter twenty four

The hairs stood up on the back of Dr.Sanjivamurthy’s neck as her eyes followed the gleaming streak of blood down the wall to the dust on the floor, her back to the pair of Punishers silently falling past in pursuit of PBB outside her window. She went back into her Chemistry Lab and started to yell at her Juniors about their laziness in regards to states of matter.

You will NEED this! YOU will need it, not me! And I feel like I’ve been teaching you this forever! And now-” her voice trailed off as she felt the entire building convulse. She regained her composure and began to threaten the entire class at the top of her brassy lungs.

I’m not talking about this for me! I know this! I KNOW what this is and what to do! This is for you! YOU will be tested! I’ve been telling you Forever that YOU will be tested! And you all have sat there like bumps on logs like that DAY will never come! But you Better have grasped something! Because when it arrives- And it WILL- You better not fail! Or I will find you AFTER you fail and- you will WISH they had left nothing of you for me to punish for disappointing me-” the Doctor hissed with such violence to her high-pitched clip that it chilled everyone to the bone.

What the Hell?!” muttered Jag, the lone Music boy making up Junior Chem Lab before Senior Physics instead of English with Harvey. His raspy voice inadvertently boomed in the room due to how terrified into silence everyone else was.

Jas’ Balfor, do not sass me!” the Doctor trilled angrily, her accent thickening as her rage grew.

Dr. Sanjivamurthy, WHAT did I Do?!” Jag fussed back, his chest shaking defensively with laughter.

Do not talk back! Stop laughing! Everything is not funny!” She began to rant at a fever pitch.

Jag looked down and did all he could to keep a straight face as every goofy thing his Physics lab partner Anukai would have whispered if this had been going down an hour later flooded his inner ear, trying to make him laugh now. He held on for dear life as tears of mirth slid down his baby cheeks, grin swallowed so the one they called Vinutha would not start throwing desks again.

And You-you know better! THAT’s why you’re here again!” The Doctor railed angrily as she marched up the row towards him. Juniors dove out the way and peeked from behind their desks, sure she was going to kill him again. She roughly grabbed the edge of his desk and breathed in like a T-rex about to strike. Everything around the two of them froze as the echoing sound of her breath bounced off Jag’s forehead. He gamely looked up. She locked eyes with him and an entire not yet lived life of his reflected across Dr. Sanjivamurthy’s glasses.

What the-” he whispered in shock and slammed his eyes shut. The instant he did he saw Anukai drop dead to the floor in a rain of shattered glass. Jag jumped back from the vision so roughly that his chair fell backwards and crashed to the floor with him in it, smashing him into the upper reaches of a harsh-uprising Aware download seizure. The Doctor stood over the prostrate body his soul continued to fall inside of as his whole life spun out in the sky around her looming head. Her howling, Kali-like visage transformed into the alluring and compassionate beauty of Krishna’s eternally beloved Radha. Her trademark tight bun of hair unfurled and tumbled down her slight body like waves of black lambs descending mountains and fell onto him protectively, as if hugging him back from the edge the fit had deposited him on the lip of.

Jag- you have to go-” The Doctor whispered into the abyssmal fall she had knocked her favorite student into for his own good. “You have to-get up,” She cried out empathically from the heavenscape in his mind’s eye. “ NOW!” She roared as her face twisted back up into a Kali-deathmask.

Jag came to with a rough snap of his neck, still at his lab table. He jumped up as if dodging a hit. Synapses resituated behind his eyes as he backed away from her towards the door and looked out the window in it down the third floor hall. He looked back at the Doctor and his weird, gritty laughter gurgled out of his chest one final time in her direction.

Thanks, Doc-” Jag muttered. She nodded and he was gone. The Doctor looked down as she released hre grip from the table. Her grayed, bony fingers had dug so heavily into it that they had scarred it.

Vinutha stood up and walked back towards the front of the lab as cowering students shook off the abrupt stasis Jag’s upload had rammed them into. Two rows from the front she paused and straightened her glasses very slowly as all kinds of waves and particles struggled for precedent across the surface of her eyes and were reflected against the glistening horn-rimmed frames that now balanced perfectly on the bridge of her nose. She mentally checked the first thing off the list that the streak of supernatural blood on her wall had carved into her soul with the utmost urgency, grinned malevolently then spun and wildly hurled two desks out of the windows just barely over the heads of her students for effect. The drama major with blond highlights strategically scattered quietly peed her pants as her lab partner’s shoulders silently shook as she huddled over her books in her lap in shock.

Number two-”The Doctor grinned to herself then sweetly began her discourse from the beginning as if nothing was amiss. “The Mutability of the states of matter does not equal the death of it- Take for instance H20- Water is not killed by the fire placed under it, but is instead turned into what?”

She narrowed her beautiful dark eyes and gritted her teeth against falling into her diatribe again as she noticed a nervous hand raise itself in the back of the room. “Yes?”

Steam? Vapor? Like maybe even Clouds?” A tawny-haired Photography major whispered hoarsely.

Good enough-” Vinutha muttered and continued on. She absently slammed erasers together to punctuate her sentences in a way that kept the students so nervous that no one noticed the low-flying chalky clouds that spread out from her before they knocked the entire class out and floated up into the ancient air vents of the building.

chapter twenty five

Where is she?” He pushed through clouds of smoke, his eyes filmy with strands of white gunk that he absently pushed away. “Where- where is she?!” He howled again hoarsely.

His voice echoed, sounded metallic in his head like a microphone on the wrong frequency. He slammed his hands over his ears and braced himself as the thick atmosphere churned around him as though attempting to push him to his knees. He knew he wasn’t underwater, but the pressure felt worse than that, like it could make him pop at any moment. Eventually steadied, he slowly began to walk again. His hand shot out to balance himself against cold clammy lumps in the landscape from time to time with no comprehension of what he was touching nor walking through able to cut through the confusing haze in his head. A smell he couldn’t stomach or place filled his lungs with each step. Legs heavy, he stumbled and fell. Exhausted, he stayed down for what seemed like an eternity. He abruptly came to as he felt something that froze him to the core.


A pulse.

An extremely faint one.

What the-” he screamed.

Terrified, he leapt back up as the clouds began to lift from his mind’s eye. His head spun around violently as the truth of the mounds registered, making every clammy contact that he’d made with them boomerang skittishly back into his flesh.

Bodies. Piles and pits of them. Naked. As far as his now unscaled and horrified eyes could see.

Fields of bodies spread out towards the horizon line like the aftermath of a slaughter, but with no blood to be seen. His hand rammed to his mouth to stop from hurling, he turned and saw them just as thickly from where he somehow had blindly came. Mountains of them, as though he were deep within a valley of death.

The last shred of life refusing to unhinge within him fought back. It spoke out against his thoughts deep within his scarred over chest. “No. Not death. This is Not-” he muttered to himself. The splinter of himself flung the only indication of the undeadness of the landscape into him frantically. The reverberated sense memory of that skeevish pulse that had rung out in response to his warmth.

The valley that surrounded him was worse than death. It was like the shadow of it.

Gabryl fell to his knees and screamed until he blacked back out.