Late to the Party: Skins Series 1 ep. 2

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Skins: Series 1 Episode 2: A look back at British Teen Drama/Comedy.

Now if you have read the first review you know what this show is about if now, here it is! Quick overview to catch you up; Skins is a British series set in Bristol South West England, it revolves around a group of teens that are going through sixth form, (or Key Stage 5) is the final (optional) two years of secondary schooling when students are sixteen to eighteen years of age and normally prepare for their A-level examinations. The term is used for describing the final two years spent in a secondary school contrary to a sixth form college (UK use) where students start at age sixteen after leaving secondary school. This episode review maybe bias because Cassie is my second favorite character in the show.

Late to the Party: Skins Series 1 ep. 1

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Skins: Series 1 Episode 1: A look back at Teen Drama/Comedy.

The series was co-created by father and son writers, Bryan Elsley and Jamie Brittain for Company Pictures,^[1] and premiered on E4 on 25 January 2007.^[2]The series is ten episodes that run around 45 minutes. They feel like mini movies and most of them focus on one character, the last of series 1 had all the characters; Tony Stonem, Michelle Richardson, Sid Jenkins, Cassie Ainsworth, Chris Miles, Maxxie Oliver, Anwar Kharral, Jal Fazer, and Tony’s younger sister Elisabeth “Effy” Stonem. Secondary characters include; Angie the Psychology teacher, Abigail Stock a prep school girl, “Posh” Kenneth he goes to school with the main cast, Madison Twatter the drug dealer, and there is the senior teacher Doug who has been in four of the seasons no word yet if he will be in series 5.

Aziz's Problem

  {Some mild language, violence and adult themes, reader discretion is advised. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2010}

                                                                              I

The red die hit the table with great speed and began to roll over the green felt that covered the five feet of table. It was decorated with boxes and each box had a number and the table was decorated with twenty people all cheering for the thrower of the die.  Each of the cheering masses had been consuming alcohol and the die thrower had been given drinks of mixed liquors; complements of the house, obviously, he had slid them over and the girl on his arm would drink them. She could hold her liquor unlike anyone that Aziz had ever known.

He wore a big white smile that complemented his dark features; he had always kept his black hair medium length and tied up in a pony tail as well as a clean shaven face. His dark brown eyes focused on the die as they had stopped on the number he had wanted. He punched the air in celebration and the dealer at the table slid over the cornucopia of colored chips, it had to be sixty thousand there, time to double it.

He kissed the girl on his arm as he had after every throw, their tongues danced together as they had time and time again. As he pulled away he looked into her dark gray eyes, she had dyed highlights of blond in her brown hair and she wore a small silver dress that pushed up her breasts to distract the dealer. Aziz had it all planned out, he was going to take the casino for hundreds of thousands of dollars, he couldn’t lose.

He rolled the die in his hands slowly and then he tossed them forewords and like the prior time he yelled out, “A little to the left!”

The two cherry red die bounced, coincidentally enough to the left but all good things come to an end and that was the end of Aziz’s winning streak. The two ones of the die looked up at the ceiling, like hateful white eyes that spited him. His grin dissipated like a puddle on a hot day and he stood there in shock; he never noticed that the girl on his arm had pulled him from the table. He looked to her, trying to believe what had just happened, the music that was blaring, the slots bellowed and he was numb to all of this and then he spoke.

“Esmé, what happened out there? We we’re supposed to be rich by now! Taking down the casinos of Cyhiraeth with ease!” said Aziz in a shocked voice.

“Aziz it happened by chance, it’s not like you have some magic that could have won us money, right?” she asked.

“I was sure I had it this time, one of these days Esmé I will do it!” he said.

“You’re always doing this kind of stuff and you never let me in! I never understand your motives but I never question you.” Esmé said.

“That’s why I love you but I can’t explain it, it’s just because…” he said.

“Because isn’t good enough for me, Aziz!” She spat out.

“You’re just the decoy and you’re on a need to know basis!” He spat back and some spittle even came out onto her face.

Her beautiful face turned to a grotesque scowl and within seconds her fist smashed into his nose, it cracked but didn’t break. Blood squirted down from the nostril as he regained his footing he only saw her rear and remembered how nice it looked naked. He instantly regretted what he said but was to flabbergasted to do anything about it; he would show her why he did what he did by winning a sickening amount of money.

 “I’m better than her and I’m better than ALL OF YOU!” He yelled in the busy streets of Cyhiraeth.

Cyhiraeth was a concrete jungle with towering buildings and congested streets. At night it was full of lights and other distractions. People visited from all over to throw away their money on cheap food, cheaper women and rigged casino games. As Aziz stood in the streets yelling people passed him by, some bumped into him intentionally because of his comment and some made comments of their own.

“Drunkard.”

“Scumbag!”

“Gambling attic, get a real job!”

And some even more colorful things, but we don’t need their options and Aziz had stopped listening to most people years ago and would only catch a few things they ever over said anyways.  He pushed through the crowd to return to his hotel room, he was not from here and maybe if he was lucky he would bump into Esmé, but he was not lucky.

“Did you know that Cyhiraeth was a goddess of death, some believe she was one of life but when you stay in Cyhiraeth long enough; you truly know that she was the goddess of death!” A patron of the hotel had said to Aziz as they both rode the elevator.

“I’m here to win it big and change my life, my father said I was a failure but he was a man whore, he was the failure.” He told this stranger his inner most secret, but why?

Aziz had known Esmé his entire life, they had grown up together, gone to school, worked together and had been in love with each other since the day they met in their small trailer homes. Both of their families had been poor, her parents had been addicted to a drug that came from Cyhiraeth, it was made and distributed throughout the world. It was in a small crystal shaped pill and when ingested; the neurons in a human’s brain would begin to fire off at a rapid rate; endorphins would flood the body at an unhealthy rate. This small pill was one of the strongest pleasure inducers on the planet and it was relatively cheap compared to other stimuli. Her parents would take the pill and have sex like rabbits and would eventually die when Esmé was fifteen; she had to take care of her five younger brothers and sisters.

Aziz’s father had been able to get the drugs and with these drugs and others they had brought women. But he was never a rich man because he would blow all his money on more drugs for himself and his competitions woman. He would never have sex with any of his own employees and he could have but he had morals. This had always made Aziz sick; he had never loved his father and was glad when his father had to start traveling to get more of these illicit substances. Many times as a teenager Aziz was told he was a failure and he would just ignore the old bastard but it was always in the back of his mind. 

In all the years that he and Esmé had known each other he had never divulged his personal life. He was never physically beaten but he was mentally tormented and made sure no one knew about it. He had known about her though, every little detail and as he reflected on his past he felt his heart twinge and the pain became deeper. He did love her and he would have to win her back, he exited the elevator, hoping to avoid more nuggets of useless trivia from the man in the elevator, he got to his room to see it destroyed.

His clothes had been strewn about, the lamps broken, the mini fridge had been opened and every bottle of liquor had been either drunk or broken, that would increase his bill by a few thousand. His mattress had been cut open by a huge knife; he could tell it was a big knife by how it was cut. The walls had a few punctures like a man had pounded them to see inside. He then noticed all his cloths had been torn apart and the only thought that came to him was “Esmé you whore.”

He looked into the bathroom to see someone had used a bar of soap to write a message on his mirror.

YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR FATHER’S SINS!

That was not Esmé’s handwriting; she had a small curly script and had dotted each eye with a heart. This looked like it was from an angry man. He grunted audibly as he walked over to his mattress that had been gutted like a pig. He placed it back on the box spring and had lain down. He was too angry and tired to clean it up.

The only Poems I'll EVER post.

If only...
If I knew how to express what I feel
Then I'd say something like you're the real deal
Poetry is hard for me
But loving you comes easy, to be
your man is my plan,
Not just because I am your biggest fan.
                   -Jacob Heacock


(This won me a teddy bear in 2004 at School for a Valentines Poetry Contest. Copyrighted by Jacob C. Heacock 2004-2010)

Lil' Taste: Untitled Story

{Reader discretion is advised. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2010}

Untitled Story: Chapter 1: Melody

It all started with an itch, a small almost casual itch. The kind that you always happen to have, sometimes your scalp needs a scratch, sometimes your neck but this one started above the elbow of Melody Sumnor’s dead brother. She had just left the morgue after identifying her brother that had been found dead in an alley, he was decomposed like he had been dead for months but she knew he had only been missing for a day. Missing is the wrong word she thought, he went to work and then hung out at a friend’s house, because his car was in the shop.

He had decided to walk home that morning so he could get ready for work and he would walk to work because he had lived close by. For the past week he had been scratching his left elbow, on and off, at first it was unnoticeable. But it had become more of a nuisance and that night before his death he was in the bathroom, scratching away when something wrong happened.

One of the hundreds of red pimples on his elbow opened up and pus had formed in a small pool that began to spill down his arm. But the pus that two days ago had been a milky yellow was now black. It had a horrible smell, he couldn’t put his figure on it or how to explain the smell but it was rotten flesh that filled his nostrils. He had vomited into his friend’s toilet but this did not warn his friend in any way because they had been drinking beers heavily since five o’clock at night and it was now One in the morning.

Kyle Sumnor had covered his elbow in toilet paper and medical tape prior to passing out in the hallway. His friend had woken him up at eight that morning, he denied a ride and said he would walk home. He said he needed the air. He stood up and felt his entire body shift; it felt wrong like his skin was loose. He figured it was a hangover and left the apartment. He walked past a few people and they had acted weird, shying away from him.

Must have vomit on my shirt, he thought as he exited the apartment, never to see it again. He turned right and soon entered the alley that he was found in. His body had started to decay as he slept, when he had gotten up his skin had shifted because it had started to rot but it had not fallen off. His eyes had become hallow, deep dark rings around them also he had no lips.

When his friend woke him he had not noticed the loose flesh and Kyle’s lips hadn’t fallen off until he left the apartment, talking had loosened them. When he took a deep sigh as he exited the apartment that was when his lips hit the floor.

He jumped over the small fence, his jeans and leg skin got caught in the small metal links, he fell forward and smashed into the concrete, hard. His neck snapped instantly like a dry twig and his body sat there for ten hours and was found by a small child. 

At nine o’clock; Melody received a call from her brother's boss, he hadn’t seen Kyle since yesterday and saw a strange news report while he was on break so he had decided to call her.

“Hello Melody, Kyle hasn’t been in and I know it’s strange but a dead body was found by the apartment that Kyle was at and the picture they showed looks kind of like him,” he said and she did not reply. 

She hung the phone up.

She was speechless and began crying; when she got her composure she had said she would go to the police to see if she could identify the body. When she left the house in a thick coat and multi colored scarf, her reddish blond hair tied up in a bandana so no hair would fall into her face. Her green eyes look up to the sky and it’s filled with four of the seven moons of Earth.

She drove to the Police station, she remembered her grandfather telling her about a time before police he had called them journeymen a few times but he was getting old. She was in an older Model T-0/Bu Class 4, hover car. It was purple and had no rust, being a Class 4 hovercraft it had no emissions and ran on sapphires that energized the engine like a battery. She knew nothing about her ‘craft but she loved it and she got to the Police Station in ten minutes.

The building in the Ulharra capital Yorkborough was a metropolis with buildings that cut high into the sky. They all had a round look to them and shimmer and shinned in the summer but it was so far north in the second largest continent of Earth the summers were never too hot.

All the roads where used for walking or bicycles, the hovercrafts would float up twenty feet into the air and it took teens five years to get a license. They would start at thirteen learning the rules and other simple things by the time they reach sixteen they would start the simulations and the last year they would get to drive the real thing.

Flight Log

{This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2010} Should I write more?

Journal Entry Twenty:  Hachi/ 35/ 15,890

The sun cut through the smoke billowing from the destroyed ship, the passengers aboard the GLORIA-7 have been knocked around and I was hoping none of us had died. The wings of the spacecraft are scattered around this strange planet, the vegetation is a paradigm shift from Earth. It took me awhile but my eyes slowly opened and my vision was blurred with my own blood. It was smeared on my helmet's cracked visor.

That was when I began to panic as I breathed in the last of my air supply. With a pop, my visor turned to small crystals, the shards fell into my lap as I pulled in air and I screamed believing that the end was near(Obviously it wasn’t). The fresh air filled my lungs and it is sweeter than the air of Earth, it is truly unpolluted and pure.

With the shock of this pure air I continued to scream and flail around in my seat. I pulled at my seat belt, trying to get free. My body slammed against the seat furiously and then click the seat belt came undone and my body fell to the ground while I hold my throat trying to catch my breath.


"I'm alive...how?" I said in a weak voice, that I barley recognized and I began to pant. I wipe the blood from my face. "Is anyone else alive?"

Late to the Party: Intro

Okay to fill the time between short stories I had an idea. I watch a lot of Movies, TV and I play tons of Video Games. So I thought, why not review some of the things I feel that people need to know about. It will be called "Late to the Party" so I can review things that are older, if I do review a new movie I will put it under a different category.

If you want to know my thoughts on a specific thing, post a comment. If I have seen it the review will be up post haste and If I have not, the review will be done once I have experienced it. This will be good to build up my community!

The Video Tape

{This short story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2010}

Prologue:

The Video Tape© A Very Short Story by Jacob Curtis Heacock

A dark haired teenager enters an equally dark room, his features can't be seen because of the dark room and in the room is a small television on a stand. He holds out a video tape and puts it into the player; he turns the television on to see static. This static continues even when the play option has been chosen, than an image finally appears.

An older man can be seen on the television he had deep red scars on his face, they start from the top of his forehead and then end at his jaw line, and they are thin and dark crimson. He had not shaven in awhile but it is only stubble and not a full beard yet. His eyes were dark and piercing, it took him awhile to talk as if he was afraid or nervous. Every few minutes the picture would lose its color or just become pure static.

"… then he came and murdered my wife and I think my children got away. {Bzrt} barely made it out, and I still have not seen the team. They still may not have gotten back from {Bzrt}"

Tears began to roll down the man's eyes and he looked down. He wore a dark blue fighting gi it had a black sash holding up the loose fighting pants. He held the camera, it's fumbled and the boy watching could see his clothing, strangely it matched his. He pulled the camera up and the only thing on the screen was the man's face, it was haggard and the lines around his eyes are deep.

"I hear him coming I never thought {Bzrt} would find me, I have to tell you, whoever you may be; about my life. I'm thirty-five now; my son was born thirteen years ago and his sister a few years prior, she is fifteen. I was about nineteen when I got married to Lodan, then we were at {Brzt}"

Welcome!

Well I have decided to put my work here instead of Tumblr. I will be linking the new updates on Tumblr but they will be going here. Tumblr will be used for random links, pictures and videos, while this will be my proper blog. My thoughts will go here along with my short stories. Even some chapters from my novel. So for now I say make this quick and end it here but expect more updates.

Rape in Yorkborough

{This story contains no swears but content that maybe unsuitable for those faint of heart. Reader discretion is advised. This short story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2010}

Rape in Yorkborough© A Short Story by Jacob Curtis Heacock. 

“I swear to you, Blaine raped me last night.” She cried as she explained her horrible night to her teacher Mrs. Perko.

Uaine was dark haired and fair skinned; she had vibrant green eyes that were now highlighted by red ringlets. Mrs. Perko had blond hair and was only a few inches taller than her student, whom she was trying to console. They stood in the History room of the Yorkborough Academy; it was a coed school for children of the age of four to eighteen. It had three buildings, a primary school, secondary school for Stage One and a second building for Stage Two. They were in the newest building for Stage Two level of development.

Mrs. Perko had been teaching History for fifteen years now and this was the first time anything like this had ever happened. The boy Blaine; he has short blonde hair and was seventeen just like Uaine. He was a boy that would do something like this but she had some doubts. Blaine might be bitter, snide and sarcastic most days that couldn’t mean he was a sexual deviant but maybe his personality wasn’t just an act. The girl had begun to cry harder, her hot wet face pressed against the breasts of her teacher.

As she gently rubbed the back of her student she remembered one thing, Blaine had been the only one in her class with psychic abilities. Some children could control fire, water, rocks, wood, some could travel through the shadows but he was the only psychic and that concerned her. He was very advanced, her associate Mr. Landau, had told her that he was the best at putting thoughts into others. But her doubt kicked in, maybe this girl was lying because she was mad at Blaine and she knew he could be framed easily.

“We will bring this to the proper authorities; this is far above me Uaine.” Mrs. Perko admitted, she brought her arm closer to the crying girl and they walked from the History room.

The room they left had been covered by maps of the Earth and a giant portrait of a bearded man in armor and he looked to have angel wings. Ton-Lin was the name of the painting and it was one that Mrs. Perko had been given from her great grandfather. On the back corner of the room stood a bookshelf that was spewing out books from hundreds of thousands of years of literature. The desks in the room have just been purchased recently and some have even been left unscathed in the five months they have been here. Ulharaian Babes are the Only Babes was scratched into one while another read Gesenius written in a fiery looking scribe.

As they walked the vast halls of the Academy it was well lit and smelled of disinfectant. The cries of the girl had slowed down to more of blubber and a bubble of snot formed on her nose. With the swiftness of Cheetah; Mrs. Perko pulled out her handkerchief and cleaned the poor girl’s nose. Mrs. Perko had a latent ability; she believed it to be there but had yet to truly manifest. She could from balls of pure energy that some call Chi. Uaine had the ability to grow flowers at an accelerated rate; she could progress a garden from feeding a small family to feeding a small village in half the hour.

“Now my dear, how did it happen?” Mrs. Perko inquired.