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Origins of Evil
Origins of Evil
Origins of Evil
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Origins of Evil

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"Origins Of Evil" is a collection of free works that I put together. This free collection is built with the fan in mind and I hope that you enjoy it. 

From "More Than Memories" written and published back in 2012, all the way up to new pieces entitled "One More Trip Around The Sun" and "How Many" this is a collection that packs the beginnings of my writing journey into an exciting ebook for you to digest. 

LanguageEnglish
PublisherKyle Robinson
Release dateFeb 28, 2018
ISBN9781386205722
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    Origins of Evil - Kyle Robinson

    Origins Of Evil- A Collection of Poems and Short Stories

    By Kyle Robinson

    Table of Contents

    Title Page

    To My Friends and Family and the reader who have always been with me.

    More Than Memories

    The Mind Works in Mysterious Ways- A Forward | By Kyle Robinson

    Writer's Eyes

    The Vessel Full of Memories

    Ghetto Girl

    2100 Maple St.

    The Edge

    April's Poem A Day Challenge

    The Watchtower

    A Heart Full of Lead

    Viral

    Pain

    The 7th Circle Railway

    Decelerations For The Departed

    Gingerbread House

    Broken Nightmares

    Learning Curve

    Bombshell

    Better Off

    More Than Memories

    The Lonely Road

    A Night In Paradise

    In Satan We Trust

    Unopened Doors

    Here's To You

    Momma's Worst Nightmare

    The Lights Behind The Bridge

    Behind the Curtains

    The Text Message

    The Satan Inside

    The Thrill Ride

    Gasping For Air

    Afterward: The Nightmares That Live

    I.M Yours

    Through The Lens Of Evil

    Duke

    One More Trip Around The Sun

    How Many?

    Author’s Note

    Sign up for Kyle Robinson's Mailing List

    To My Friends and Family and the reader who have always been with me.

    More Than Memories

    The Mind Works in Mysterious Ways- A Forward

    By Kyle Robinson

    What you’re holding in your hand really started for me close to a little over 11 years ago. I began writing as a kid just for something to do. I didn't think anything else of it until a teacher told me that the story I had written about Paul Bunyan was something that was beyond that of students she had seen at my grade,  that was the start of the journey I've been on ever since.

    However, the particular book was a project that started for me around three and a half years ago. I was in high school, didn't have a life and I began writing. I had just lost my first real girlfriend and life as it always does at that point sucked.  But I turned to my writing and buried myself in it. I wrote sometimes for hours scribbling words on the pages sometimes to the point where they didn't even make any sense. As the pages flowed and my imagination roared, I was proud of what I had done but never considered it anything more than just random poems and things that I had written.

    Then a couple of years ago, I met Elizabeth Butler, the woman to whom this book is dedicated. We hadn't been dating but for a few months and she told me that she wanted me to make her something, so I decided I would assemble some of the stuff that I had written into a small collection of poems that I called Lights Behind The Bridge and gave to her.  To my surprise she loved it.

    Around this time I began to realize that my radio career that I was determined to start was going nowhere due to a mix between the economy and poor timing and judgment and I was at a crossroads wondering what it was that I was going to do with my life because I wasn't set on just having a job, I wanted to start a career. Then one night while we were sitting around and talking Liz lit the light bulb above my head.

    Why don't you write?

    I looked at her puzzled.

    You’re good at it and you love to do it so why not write?

    I didn't see any reason to argue with her so I started going through the different things that I had already written plus the things that I had recently written and began assembling. I realized quickly that the material that I had already written wasn't enough and that I needed more so I set to work. 

    Fast forward six months and 172 pages later and I completed the first draft of More Than Memories but as I began reading I realized that collections have some sort of theme that ties them all together. I was at a loss for what it was that tied my poems and stories together and then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

    The Human Mind.

    In each of my poems and stories someone is pushed to a point where their mental stability and reasoning is tested. It's what tied More Than Memories all together. Now I know they say not to give away too much of your book in the beginning pages, and I don't believe that I am. I think that once you sit down and begin reading you will learn that you have a lot in common with the characters that I'm writing about.

    I also believe in turn that you will connect with those characters and you'll learn from their mistakes, feel their heartbreak and get close to the edge when they do. They say that the mind is a terrible thing to waste and I couldn't agree more. So I'd like to take a moment to say thank you for purchasing More Than Memories and I hope you enjoy the ride as much I enjoyed writing it.

    Writer's Eyes

    ––––––––

    Imagine a world where everything haunts you,

    Imagine a world where those you don't know,

    Are part of your everyday life,

    Imagine the voices calling to you at all hours,

    Imagine living in this hell.

    Now imagine that this world,

    Keeps spinning,

    Screaming, crying and begging,

    For your attention,

    Imagine seeing things that can't be explained.

    These people are so drastically different,

    It's like staring at a timeline,

    Some of them young and others old,

    Some are noticeably dead,

    While others shine with life,

    Then there are some,

    Whose faces tell stories so horrible,

    That most can't even put it into words,

    Others have a story,

    That hasn't yet been made.

    These variations are only the characters that you see,

    Now if you would imagine the world that you’re in,

    Some call it imagination,

    I on the other hand,

    Call it my Reality.

    These worlds vary in colors,

    From Black to neon Pink,

    Writings on the walls,

    And blood in the air,

    But all are important in their own ways,

    These worlds hold everything together,

    Everything happens here,

    And while they may change,

    In your reality they don't exist,

    But to me nothing is more real,

    In fact today alone,

    I saw buildings color themselves,

    With Black X's,

    And their names replaced,

    With different things.

    It's all in a normal day's work for me,

    It's how my mind views the world,

    How these worlds,

    How it's people

    Are shaped.

    Then you have to factor in the nightmares,

    That haunt me on a daily basis,

    That tell me stories of their own,

    It's kind of scary to wake up,

    Expecting to see dead people,

    But these nightmares,

    Have given me all the inspiration that I need,

    To move forward,

    Some would see those daily nightmares as a cure,

    I see them as a blessing,

    It's quite a time to see the world,

    From my point of view,

    The signs change colors,

    And the world shifts,

    Without warning,

    Everywhere I look,

    I see the heartaches of the people,

    Whose lives I haven't learned about yet,

    Then there are those who suffer, 

    With the hell that I brought down on them,

    This is the life that I live,

    And will continue to live,

    Until the inspiration no longer strikes me,

    To write,

    And to live through words,

    Until then,

    Well until then I will continue to make your nightmares real,

    My words are like angry daggers,

    Covered in blood,

    May you never sleep well again.

    The Vessel Full of Memories

    Welcome aboard let's take it all in,

    Everything so well preserved,

    In the words of poetry,

    So well written,

    That it now begs to be read,

    That's where you come in,

    My new best friend,

    The reader,

    Of the strange new possession,

    That is this book,

    I could tell you how much it tore me apart,

    To share with you the words,

    And the memories that I have,

    Within these pages but should I do that,

    You'll know more than enough,

    That maybe you'll debate on walking away,

    That maybe you'll put this down,

    And decide that this isn't for you,

    And I don't want to lose you,

    So early on,

    I would love to let you in,

    On a few secrets,

    But of course,

    I won't share it all within the first pages,

    Because,

    I can't let you in too much right here,

    After all this is the beginning,

    There's SO much more than this,

    Wrapped up and bound,

    In the pages of this collection,

    It's a promise,

    As twisted as this will sound,

    I want to promise you that this book,

    Will be something you've never seen before,

    And it's likely that you may never see something like it again,

    This book will take you down dark alleys,

    Where you should have packed a gun,

    It will take you down well lit hallways,

    Where good will triumph over evil,

    And then there are other places,

    These places are so deep,

    So dark that trying to put,

    The essence of those pages into words themselves,

    Could very well be impossible,

    But not completely so,

    You've noticed that the title of this book,

    More Than Memories I'm sure,

    And there's a just reason,

    Why I would put such words on the front,

    And that reason is so very simple,

    More Than Memories Fits,

    So well,

    Because the book that you now possess,

    Is full of memories,

    Full of insight,

    Here's to hoping that you enjoy it,

    And consider this an opening shot,

    That's being fired,

    Because I'll warn you now,

    You’re in for a hell of a ride....

    Ghetto Girl

    ––––––––

    The door slams shut,

    As she lifts herself off the bed,

    For the umpteenth time,

    The bruises around her eyes,

    Starting to swell,

    She walks to the mirror behind her door,

    A mirror that's told her story for years,

    And she touches her face,

    She feels the bruises,

    Swelling faster and faster,

    She'd like to think back to a simpler time,

    One when her life wasn't so bad,

    But she can't,

    Her life has been hell since she can remember,

    And it only continues to get worse,

    She sits back on the bed,

    Her face bruised,

    Beaten and battered,

    Her insides scared from the abuse,

    Living in the hell she has been,

    Downstairs the screams echo upward,

    Her drug induced mom,

    Screaming slurs,

    Claiming that this shit hole is below her,

    But that's a nightly rant for her mom,

    Her dad yells,

    In his alcohol induced rage,

    That the world doesn't put her on a pedestal,

    From above our girl listens,

    And is scared,

    The footsteps come back up the stairs,

    In her head she knows what's coming next,

    It's the never ending cycle of abuse,

    Verbal, Physical, Sexual,

    It's how her dad always gets when he's drinking,

    The door bust open,

    And before she can stop it the hand is at her mouth,

    And he forces her to the bed,

    She cries inside,

    But it's been like this for nearly four years,

    After he's done he gets up,

    Taps her chest and thanks her,

    Before stumbling out of the room,

    She cries herself to sleep,

    Praying for a better tomorrow,

    School is no better,

    People just don't seem to care,

    She keeps to herself,

    As she walks the hallways,

    Only wishing that she had a friend,

    She sees everyone in their happiest of moods,

    And wishes that was her,

    That she could live the life,

    Of someone who managed to be,

    Beautiful,

    The abuse continues,

    As the months roll by,

    Some weeks it's so much worse than the others,

    She doesn't know how to make it stop,

    Doesn't know how to make it go away,

    Then one day as sunlight shines,

    On her dim and dark world,

    A friend comes along,

    Wanting to help her,

    But even this path will be a dark one,

    At first it seems like a great idea,

    Leaving home to be with her new friend,

    But soon she learns that there's more to this,

    Then meets the eye,

    That night she gets her first taste of the underworld,

    First it's the joints,

    With the smoke swirling ever higher,

    It takes her places,

    Where her problems don't exist

    She didn't think a place like that was real,

    But soon it's not enough,

    And she learns that there are other things,

    To hide away the pain,

    And the nightmares,

    So she asks for more,

    Next comes the spoons,

    Melted and polluted,

    With cocaine,

    Her heart leaps at the chance,

    To escape ever further,

    But as she climbs higher, 

    So does her tolerance, 

    As it all loses its effects,

    I need more she cries,

    As she's gotten used to a world with no pain,

    Next in swirling despair,

    Comes the needle,

    One so trivial and evil,

    That she doesn't even realize,

    What's about to happen,

    The Heroin takes hold,

    And spins her out of control,

    Further and further it goes,

    She can't stop it now,

    As her heart feels the greatest it's ever felt,

    She feels like life can't get any better,

    Everything she's wanted,

    Right at her finger tips,

    An escape only ever,

    A phone call away,

    Time ticks by,

    And soon her body begins to turn,

    But that internal fire,

    Was something she never bargained for,

    And she wants to escape again,

    They told her it was the be all,

    End all,

    And that she would never feel,

    This great again,

    They told her she had to try,

    So away she went,

    Into a world that was so dark,

    That no light could save her,

    But she felt great,

    Greater than ever in fact,

    The meth took hold,

    And further out of control,

    She couldn't stop herself,

    And in her mind she said,

    That she didn't want to,

    But with her,

    As reality always seems to do,

    Came crashing down around her one night,

    The phone rang, and her freedom was gone,

    Her friend had found herself on the wrong end of a bust,

    Jail time was a sure thing,

    She had learned that from her time in the underworld,

    But the worst part was now she had no one,

    All the junkies they knew,

    Weren't her friends at all,

    So she went back to the torment and torture,

    Of everyday life,

    Continual abuse,

    And put up with it she did,

    Until withdrawal caught up with her,

    She heard the arguing,

    Hours in advance,

    And knew he was drunk again,

    She had taken time earlier while they were out,

    To plan for just such the event,

    He came up the stairs,

    And threw open the door,

    He was already trying to come at her,

    When she pulled the trigger,

    Once, twice, and a third,

    All the shots rang out,

    Loud and angry,

    And with each one she felt,

    More liberated,

    Then the last,

    She rolled his body off to the side,

    And spit directly in his face,

    That now lifeless face,

    It felt so, so good,

    But there was more to be done,

    She walked downstairs,

    And felt the smoke hit her nose,

    But it didn't affect her anymore,

    She was far beyond that of weed,

    Instead she reacted as if nothing was there,

    She walked down through the kitchen,

    To where her mom was sitting,

    As our girl came through the door,

    Her mother's eyes were wide,

    With the last words she ever heard,

    "You dirty little cunt how could you,

    Let him do that to his own daughter,

    Are you proud you little whore,

    I sure as hell hope so because soon,

    You'll both be rotting in hell together,"

    She pulled the trigger,

    Once, twice, a third time,

    Every shot freeing her more than the last,

    In her heart she felt relieved,

    The pain could finally stop,

    Oh but not yet

    Her mind told her,

    She knew what she had to do,

    She placed the gun on the table,

    And prepared for her final task,

    She secured the rope tight,

    And put the chair in place,

    Fear had never been her strong suit,

    As she prepared for the end,

    She knew that this would make it all go away,

    She left a note in case anyone cared to look,

    Not that she thought they would,

    She simply scribbled in her little handwriting,

    "They said they would look out for me and lied,

    Today is the day this nightmare I call a life ends."

    2100 Maple St.

    ––––––––

    Are you sure we're in the right place? Chris asked as he looked down at the paper in his hand and then back up to the abandoned home.

    Let me check. His brother David reached into the company van and pulled out the GPS. It says we're at 2100 Maple Street, is that what the paper says?

    Chris nodded but still looked amazed.

    What's wrong little brother?  Don't think we can do this one? After all the hell we've been through with these damn house flips in this economy, this thing should be a piece of cake.

    I don't think that the job itself is going to be the hard part man. I just don't see what in the world Kelly was thinking when she found this place.

    David was pulling equipment out of the van as Chris stopped talking. He walked up sat the ladder down and put one elbow on Chris's shoulder.

    Dude regardless of what she was thinking at the time, if her math is right and it usually is, we're going to make a lot of money off this house.

    Chris laughed. Isn't that what she always tells us when she gets these rundown places?

    Dave shrugged, I guess so, but we ain't going to make anything if we don't get to work so quit your complaining, grab a tool belt and let’s head inside and get started.

    ****

    They pushed the front door open and walked into the foyer. The outside wasn't pretty, with its' horrid blue green shade of mildew, broken windows, and horrible roof problem it was going to be one hell of a fix and Chris knew that, 15 years in the business taught him how to spot problems, but the inside was a much worse story.

    What the hell is that? Dave shot out as they walked further inside.

    It looks like... yep that's a dead raccoon. You aren't afraid of a little road kill there are you Davey? Chris laughed as he sat the ladders down.

    Shut up ass. Dave shot back but the smile on his face told a different story. Where should we start?

    Chris peered around at what was left of the foyer which wasn't a lot, and then decided. Let's take a look around first.  It looks like there are two stories.  You take the upstairs and I'll take the downstairs.  We'll figure out just what all needs done and we can start figuring up how much it will cost.

    Great, send me upstairs. My luck the floor'll cave in and I'll end up in the hospital before we even start this job. That would be a first wouldn't it? They both laughed.

    ****

    The house was in worse shape than Chris had originally thought. The bottom floor had 6 rooms: 2 bathrooms, a bedroom, the foyer, a dining room, and a kitchen.  The floors were destroyed in most places and the pillars had mold on them. The walls were also hideous with paint chipping off them in various places. Chris could only hope that the upstairs looked better than this.

    Hey Dave, how's it going up there? he called.

    I'm thinking this was a bad idea. Dave shouted back.

    Chris chuckled a bit, he hadn't thought it was a good idea from the start.

    Why what's wrong?

    There was a long and drawn out pause. Just when Chris was about to call back he got an answer. Things are just screwed up. The floor is dry rotted, the rooms are disgusting, just all in all everything is horrible man. It's gonna cost a ton to fix this place.

    What do you figure it will cost to fix just the upstairs?

    It's all gonna have to be replaced.

    Chris wasn't paying attention anymore though, something had

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