Beyond Heaven & Hell: 4/15/12

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Written by Jeffrey Arce
At Red Rocks Amphitheater in Colorado the sun was beginning to set, as the thousands of cheering fans that were packed inside began chanting a name, "Terror-@-Tak! Terror-@-Tak! Terror-@-Tak!" they all cried out in one echoing voice.
When the lights dimmed to darkness on the stage, the crowed cheered louder with eager excitement. A young beautiful woman stood near the entrance speaking into a microphone before a camera man, with the label, "Channel 23 News" on the side of the camera. The reporter spoke loudly as to talk over the sounds of the intense crowd inside the theater, and said, "They are known world wide as the biggest controversial rock band in the States, and their dedicated fans have been targeted by the F.B.I, whom have now classified them all as members of a dangerous cult, known as The Children of Tak. Their latest album release, American Puppet, is their twelfth studio album, and it just hit number one on the Billboard Charts, as best independent album of the year. The band is non other than the notorious Terror-@-Tak, who are known for their violent and disturbing lyrics that challenge all systems of power. The band virtually preaches and encourages people of all ages to commit acts of brutal murder, mortal sin, and total anarchy."
A base line then dropped causing the entire theater to tremble. Then came a soft intense rhythm of symbols and hats. The light instrumentals were soon followed by a dark snare, and the sound of mixing records. The base grew louder, as did the crowds cheers. Thick grey mist suddenly began to pour out from the fogger machines on the stage, and red and blue spot lights circled across the wall of clouds before the crowd.
A deep sinister voice then echoed from the speakers and said, "COLORADO!!"
The crowd answered with screams, and chants. "TERROR-@-TAK! TERROR-@-TAK! TERROR..."
Suddenly red lights lit up the stage, and an entire band stood at the center of it. Two men began playing deep rifts from their electric guitars, as the man at front and center stood there silent with a hood over his head. His thin but muscular arms rested by his sides bare of sleeves, and covered from shoulder to wrists with tattoos. In his left hand, he was gripping a cordless microphone. He war red camouflage pants, and black combat boots. The hooded black vest hung open from his shoulders, allowing some of the light to show off his carved midsection, which was also covered in tattoos. The young Caucasian man was only five feet and eight inches tall, but still he had the aura of a god standing there in the ominous red light.
The crowd noted his presence with an even louder cheer.
The mysterious man kept his head concealed under the good as he raised the mic to his lips and sang, "I am the Government,
I am God!
I will give you punishment
If you step out of line!
Because,
I am the Government,
I am God!
Forget about countries,
Cause I rule mankind!
COME ON!"
Suddenly the entire band began playing their instruments, along with the energetic hip hop baseline in the background, as the artist threw back his hood to reveal his bold head. His face was covered in war paint, and he had white colored eye contacts in, as he began pacing back and forth on stage and sung, "We are a system of murder!
A system that kiiiiills!
A system you never heard of,
But a system that wiiiill,
Back you into a corner,
And take what We feeeeel,
Keeps you out of order!
Cause we are a system
Preaching freedom,
A system that isn't reeeeal!"
The crowd sang along and began dancing to his words. The sounds of the crowd and the music echoed across the night sky, and could be heard for miles.
When the concert ended the entire band sat back stage drinking shots and smoking cigars along with hundreds of others in celebration. The lead singer of the band sat in a quiet section of the room with the news reporter that was interviewing him. He was still wearing all of his show attire, including his haunting white contacts as the woman asked, "Now Tak, we understand that your real name is Terry Gates. Does your alias have any meaning to you?"
Tak laughed and replied, "Does my name have any meaning? Of course it does; it means everything. I'm a gates, everybody in this world knows very well what my family fights for."
"and what is that exactly, mr. Gates?" she asked before she threw the microphone back into his face.
"We fight against evil. But sometimes you have to fight fire with fire." he said, staring at her with those intense white eyes. "T.A.K; it stands for everything that the evil ones will do to cause a pending apocalypse, but it also stands for everyone that the citizens will have to do to survive it. Take And Kill."
"How can you claim to fight for good, when you support such things as anarchy, and murder?" the reporter questioned.
"The same way the military blasts all over television that they fight for good, but then murder entire villages of innocent people when no one's looking." he fired back.
One of Tak's body guards suddenly interrupted the interview and whispered something in his ear. A look of concern could be seen upon Tak's face as he slowly turned to look back at the woman and said, "You'll have to excuse me. I have a very urgent call that I must take.
He then hurried off with the big man toward another room. The man handed him the phone and Tak immediately threw it up to his ear and said, "Uncle Tom?!"
The man on the phone then replied in an urgent tone, "Terry, where are you?"
"What do you mean where am I! I'm in Colorado, I'm on your with my band. Have you not been watching the news?" he replied.
"No offense Terry, but your taste in music is a bit beyond me."
Tak chuckled and said, "It is for most people your age."
"Do you know where your mother is."
"Well, I last heard she was protesting in DC, but I haven't heard from her since she was detained by the authorities." he answered.
"And your brother?"
Tak paused a moment, thinking about his brother and how they were always inseparable as kids, now they were like sworn enemies. "I don't talk to that piece of shit anymore."
"Well I need to get a hold of him. There is something he needs to see... Something you all need to see." his uncle said on the phone.
"What?" Tak said with curiosity and concern in his eyes.
His uncle was a well fit man in his early fifties. He stood in the middle of a forrest somewhere equipped with all of his Special Forces gear, and accompanied by a team of six other officers who were carefully searching the perimeter, with advanced tools, and search dogs. He turned to look inside a case that was laying open inside an officials armored ATV four wheeler. Inside the case were evidence bags filled with dry leaves and twigs that appeared to have blood all over them. But the bag he was focusing on was the one that contained Gregory's lost note book that he was writing in before he and his team were chased out of the woods.
Uncle Tommy held his satellite phone close to his ear as he said with grief in his tone, "We found something."

Location:Rapture, revelations, Terror

Rapture (part 1) revised

Written by Jeffrey Arce

A man in his forties was sitting in a tent somewhere deep in a dark forest. He had a dim headlamp strapped to him, shining it down upon a small note book that he was writing in. His entry read, "Day 56, We are being hunted. I want nothing more than to write my wife, fore I miss her so very much, but my team has been advising me against sending out anymore letters that can be tracked back to us. We are not quite sure who, or how they are tracing us, but someone has been hot on our trail for the past three weeks. We have already had to dispose of all of our electronic devices, and were forced to relocate several times, but somehow, some way they keep finding us. They are a team of militant tactical hunters of some sort, but we don't know who yet. We can't get close enough to them to find out, nor do we dare. We have collected some vital info on Abaddon's ties with government activity all over the globe, and it is some pretty terrifying information that the people need to know. Since we intercepted it, they have been hunting us, and I fear that..."
Before he could finish writing, two men armed with tactical sniper rifles approached the opening in the tent and the one to the left said in an urgent manner, "sir, they're here."
"What! That's impossible. How did they find us already?"
"I'm not sure." he said breathing heavily from fear and exhaustion. "But we have to abandon camp, they are too close for us to collect all of our equipment."
"How did they bypass our traps?" he asked as he stood up out of the tent.
"We don't know, but now is not the time to figure it out."
Suddenly, they heard the sound of dogs barking from a distance. The sound echoed off of the trees, and the man to the right listened carefully for a moment.
Then a mysterious wind caused all of the trees to bow, as the sound of helicopter propellers chopped across the sky. The sound rapidly grew louder, until it appeared as though the craft was directly above them... But nothing was there.
"What the FUCK IS THAT?!" the man to the left exclaimed with tremendous fear in his eyes as he aimed his weapon and pointed it frantically in every direction.
The man from the tent then slipped his note book in his back pocket and grabbed him with both hands. "Grab the survival packs and leave everything else! Move!" he demanded, as all three of them dispersed. The man ducked back into the tent and picked up a big hiking bag before he ran off with them. As they raced deeper into the woods, his notebook slipped out from his back pocket, and vanished beyond the darkness of the brushes.
#
Protesters gathered outside a massive building in Washington Dc, picketing right at the front entrance of the building. Armed forces stood just before the entrance of the building, along with members of the secret service, barricading it from the enormous gathering of local parents, teenagers, and other working and unemployed citizens. The crowd held signs over their heads that read in bold hand painted letters, "Keep the banks out of our schools! What are you teaching our children? Who is in charge of our future?"
A woman in her late thirties was preaching to the crowd through a megaphone directly in front of the armed officers. She spoke into the device with enraged passion as she paced back and forth before the crowd of angry parents, and said, "For the past five years since the national bank of Abaddon began financing all of the major schools in the country, we've witnessed an extensive downfall in the education of our children. Since the bank virtually took over our schools, we have seen a rise in drug use, teen pregnancy, and crime in our children that has grown rapidly out of control! And we are sick of it!"
The crowed cheered in agreement as she continued, "As you all know, my husband mysteriously disappeared last year..." a tear began to work its way down here cheek when she spoke of her loss. "he was a great man, and a brilliant film maker. But his career met its end when he decided to investigate in this god forsaken bank. In his investigation he uncovered secret evils about them and their ties not only with our own government, but other powers all across the globe. He discovered that the bank was and still is financing dark and sinister top secret projects, some of which he helped to leak out to the public through the Internet, such as the mysterious unmanned prison camps that have been under construction all over the world for the past six years. His documentary, Bank of Lies, went viral two years ago, and has since then been banned from the Internet, and considered by the FBI to be an incriminating video meant to encourage terrorism."
A wave of sarcastic laughs rushed through the crowd as she added, "Who is the terrorist? The government took away our freedom of speech! Now they are taking away our education, and my husband is missing! Six months ago, the Feds called off the search! Why?! Ill tell you why..." she said with emotional rage in her voice. "It's because they already know where he is, as well as I do. He's dead! And he is dead because he uncovered something that wasn't supposed to be seen! He uncovered this banks dirty little secret! They are trying to enslave us all!"
The crowd ranted and cursed. The soldiers then aimed their weapons and held up their riot shields, preparing for the worst.
At the top floor of the building, a man in a black suit stood at the window of his luxurious office staring down at the crowd of picketers. He slowly puffed on to his Cuban cigar as he listen to the woman's speech blaring all over the news station that his company has financed for years. The large flat screen television was on full blast behind him, and her voiced echoed through his office like a goddess of vengeance, but looking down at her from his office, she was nothing more than a tiny little fire ant... An ant that needed to be squashed.
When she was detained by the police later that day, she sat in a private cell alone for six hours, before a handsome man in a very nice black suit approached the bars with an officer by his side. She sat up on the bed to look up at him. Remnant trails of old tears were still left on her cheeks, glistening in the faint white light of the prison cell. When she saw who the man was, she gasped from shock, as more tears came.
"Why are you here?" she seethed.
The man appeared to be in his late twenties, and was now looking down at the woman with an all knowing smirk and said, "I think we both no very well why I am here, Barbara..."
She cringed at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth.
He then turned to the officer and asked that he unlock the gate and give them some private time to talk. The officer allowed the tall blond haired man to enter the cell, and he locked the gate behind him. Then he walked away.
The young man sat next to the woman and said, "Mom, dad is gone... And nothing you do can bring him back."
"I can stop the men responsible from doing the same thing to the rest of the world." she equipped with anger in her eyes.
The young man shook his head. "Abaddon's didn't kill him."
"Yes they did!" she said as she turned to lock her intense eyes on to him. "And you know it, Jordan. You betray your very name by coming here to plea on they're behalf."
"They did not kill him!" he said in a frustrated tone.
"Do you know what the nane Abaddon means?" she asked. "Its a hebrew name, meaning destruction."
He then lowered his voice as he continued, "The concerns I had about this company were proven to be nothing more than false accusations made up by disgruntled personnel on the inside who were after law suit money. Christ, mom! There was a federal investigation..."
"I don't give a flying fuck, what the Feds say." she snapped. "They're behind it"
"Listen to yourself!" he paused a moment, staring at her with pleading eyes. "You are delusional. The loss of dad is driving you insane. You need to see a therapist."
"And you need to leave that damn company before you end up missing next."
There was another brief moment of silence, then Jordan said in a hushed tone, "The things I told my father, I told him in confidence. I didn't expect him to blast it all over the Internet, making the company look like some kind of evil corporation, and nearly costing me everything I worked my ass off to get. Abaddon's is a national bank. Not a goddamn legion of doom."
"It is a company that has more power than our own president."
Her response silenced him. He looked down at the small briefcase he was holding, he said, "Who doesn't have more power than him right now."
"With the crash of the economy, our defense is down..." she said. "With our defense down, the monsters are free to devour all that they want. Abaddon's has been eating the country alive for years... Now they want the world."
"Enough." he said, almost in a pleading manner; fighting back his own realization that she was absolutely right.
"The state our economy is in now, Ronald McDonald could run for president..."
"I said that's enough!" he yelled.
Barbra gasped once again. Though they have always had their differences, never has his son ever raised his voice with her, until that very moment.
He then calmed himself down as he set the briefcase on his lap. "I know you're right, mother... And I'm sorry. But I have chosen my side, and I beg you to do the same. Fore this may be your last chance to do so."
"What's in the case?" she asked, still appearing a bit stunned.
He punched a four digit code into the electronic lock as he explained, "Mr. Frank Larsen, CEO of Abaddon's has noticed your work, and is very impressed with the following you have gained over the years. But it has been causing quite the negative impact upon the company's interests."
"As it is meant to." she added.
Jordan grinned disappointed, and continued, "He is offering you a truce." he then popped open the suitcase, revealing its contents; six million dollars in cash. "Call off your army of protesters, and announce to the world that you were wrong about the company."
"Let me get this straight." she said as the anger returned to her eyes. "They took my husband; your father..."
"Allegedly." he corrected.
She stared at him for a long moment, unable to believe what she was hearing. Then she continued. "They murdered your father, then they send my own son specifically, to deliver a bribe to his mother; his own flesh and blood, pleading for me not only to lie to her own followers, but to lie to humanity it's self... My dear...," she reached over and gently closed the case on his lap as she said, "I'd rather be liquidated in those death camps they're building than to ever sell my soul."
"This... Is ludicrous, mother. We don't even know if my father is dead! He went crazy obsessing over his research on this ridiculous conspiracy. He could be in hiding for publicity for all we know..."
"Don't you EVER!" She lashed out with motherly rage. She immediately calmed herself down as tears came flowing from her eyes again. "Don't let them brainwash you. Your father is not a liar."
"No." he said with a disappointed look upon his face. "He's only human... But when obsessively terrified, sometimes humans do crazy things for acknowledgement."
"The Feds may have given up their search for Gregory, but your uncle has not. He will find his body, and the world will know the truth. And your brother will preach that truth to the world."
Jordan chuckled sarcastically and said, "My brother is a white rapper from Pennsylvania!"
"He is a musician!" his mother corrected. "And he has one of the biggest acts in the country right now. He will preach the truth to his followers, and through them good will prevail."
Jordan sighed, and said, "I hope for your sake, you're right..." he then leaned in close, and whispered into her ear, "I hope for the worlds sake, you're wrong. I still love you, mom. Never forget that."
He kissed her on the cheek and began walking back toward the gate. He yelled for the guard to let him out, and as the officer approached to do so, Barbara asked, "So what now?"
Her son looked back at her with the case in hand and answered, "You're free to go. But I advice you to stay off the grid for a little while."
Before he could take a step out of the cell, she said, "Jordan!"
"Yes, mother?"
She looked up at him long and hard, then she asked, "If you are so sure of that retched company's innocents, then why must you bare me a warning?"
Speechless, he just stared at her for a moment, then he turned to the guard and said, "Let her go."
Without another word he stormed off, leaving his mother alone in the cell once again.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Rapture, revelations,

If the world were to end tomorrow, would you be happy with yourself today?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Titanic

In honor of the 100 year anniversary, I decided to repost my drawing from 1996

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Titanic

Friday, April 20, 2012

??????????

How can I become a quote, "real artist" when everyone in the world wants to be a cheap shit! Fuck you, if you think you're better than me simply cause I sell my work at fairs and carnivals. At least I'm not breaking my back like a slave at some shitty ass warehouse, and at least I'm not rotting away with misery behind some fucked up desk, thinking about cheating on my girlfriend with some fellow employee just because I have nothing better to do with my life.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Gathering autograph tent

What I personally love about my sci-fi series FEUD, is the simple fact that yes, it is a story that takes place during the apocalypse, and yes, it is a series that is inspired by the book of Revelations, but this aint no fucking Left Behind series. The stage setting for the story is of the end of days, but that's not what it is about; FEUD is about the characters and their personal struggles and battles to survive this post apocalyptic time. This series is a science fiction, but it has a blend of many things that make for a great tale. It has adventure, love, vengeance, action, drama, and mystery. It is a journey into a world inspired by the one we live on, but I asure you, the world my characters are forced to survive through, is an all new world you have never before envisioned; a world of chaos, and unfathomable mysteries.
Be sure to check out the first book of my series, FEUD: THE TURNING AGE, here on Beyond Heaven and Hell.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Queen Esther

A few months ago I decided to start a pinup project to show my followers step by step how I create works of art. I kinda gave up on it for a little while but I finally finished it, and now I'm going to show all of you how it was done.
One of my favorite real life artist is my very good long distance friend Lala (Lauren) Holt, and how I came across her was by stumbling upon a painting she did of model Hanuka Esther a.k.a Queen Esther. It was amazing! Since then we've been good friends and I myself started following the model's work.
I started doing this piece as a tribute to both Lala, and Hanuka.