A Washington Post Article that Supports Bullies?

My reply and thoughts about a Washington Post Article That Supports Bullies:

It is a responsibility to make sure that no child suffers what I had to go through in 6th grade. If that means keeping your kid out of school so that another child cannot be influenced and lose their chance at learning confidence (because that is very important to learn), then that’s just something you have to do. There’s no excuse for a child to drive another child to feel inferior or not good enough. Sometimes it makes another child stronger, but then there was that one kid I knew that committed suicide three years later because of “that kid”.

I have zero tolerance toward any thought process that states putting another child in danger of having his future tainted by hurt, fear, and terror, is excusable because of home life.

I’ve been the bullied before. I’ve been that kid that pleaded for an entire year for the teachers and the principal to do something about it and watched as it only made things worse. When I got to the crossroads of depression versus retaliation, I was lucky enough to choose retaliation. Otherwise, I’d be a very different person today. I actually am a very different person today. I’m still protecting people and I’m nearly 100% certain that it had something to do with my year of hell and the following three years showing others that they can protect themselves even if authority figures cannot.

But the fact remains… If there wasn’t a bully in the first place, I would probably be something else. Sixth grade might just be a grade to the average adult, but to a kid that turns into the adult, it is life changing toward one’s personality. Minds are shaped during these years and I don’t want a bully having anything to do with the minds of my future children, or anyone’s children.

Nobody should have to know what it feels like to get pushed around and knocked down, called a faggot, and laughed at by other children that either learn to side with a bully, or be the bullied.

And no child should have to fabricate weapons, use their backpack sling as a choke-hold, and empty their books in order to prepare for retaliatory strikes when the bus drops your kid off because he decided to be brave. (as I had to do).

School isn’t supposed to cause PTSD, cause your kid to strategically plan their escape from the bus, or push a child into suicide.

Bullies cause this. I can’t stand bullies, people that push others’ around, or cowards who stand in the shadow of tyrants to protect themselves from a similar fate at the expense of another innocent soul. This is not what children are supposed to learn in school. This is not supposed to be the type of curriculum that shapes men and women into the adults they are today, and there is no excuse for “that child” to have such an ability to change people’s lives.

Most my co-workers and instructors suffered similar fates in school. We’ve talked about it and I’ve heard the same story of why people become bodyguards from a few of my trainers. I wonder what they would have been if they didn’t have to get used to being there for other people? Doctors? Writers? We’ll never know.

THAT is the problem with “That kid”

The Writers Forums – Down Again

I had to remove the writers forums once again because they are relentlessly attacked by bots and I honestly have no idea how to fix the problem. I provided “captcha” codes, and user-registration to prevent the bots from invading that part of the site, yet, they keep coming and filling the entire portion of the website with thousands upon thousands of ad’s in under a ten hour period.

I’m sad to say that, there simply might be no way to accommodate a stand-alone forums page for Abyssal Books. If ANYONE wishes to write with me on the main site, e-mail me!


Whether it be adding your stories to the site, or as a main or guest-blogger, you are welcome as long as you are not a bot.  :)

O’Glock Thirty – A True Story

Glock 17I’m surfing Facebook late in the night when something ominously creepy happened. The gaps between the upward tilted blinds allowed light from the interior lamp to shine outside one what normally would have been the corner of the outside door. That corner was obstructed by something that actually moved. At first, I assumed it was a trick of the light; a wavering process of my active imagination. After all, I had just gotten home from watching the latest showing of “The Purge” with my girlfriend and thoughts of the cinematic action were probably fresh on my mind. It wasn’t until I looked a little harder that I noticed that the usual expected geometry that was my door frame, was still obscured by something I didn’t recognize. I leaned forward in my seat and whatever intercepted the light had diverted away completely in one swift movement. This wasn’t my imagination. Separated only by a few inches of glass and cheap blinds, was something, or someone startled by my reaction to this presence.

I reached for what I needed. The composite black grip fit into my hands like a familiar friend as I wrapped my fingers around the metallic slide. The solid, deadly object in my hand talked to me in the form of an assuring metallic clink as the slider moved forward. Perhaps it was the lack of ear protection or the fact that I was facing my own front door instead of a firing lane, but there is a very unique difference in how it feels and sounds to rack a bullet into a Glock with intent to use it for defense. The best way I can describe it I guess, would be audible finality.

Shifting positions inside the house for optimum coverage of the entrance to my domicile and maximum concealment, I did something I had never done before outside of a gun range… I aligned a pair of sights over the frame of my own apartment door.

The only thing I had left to do was wait patiently. I had never went from feeling so scared, to feeling instantly so self confident so quickly in my life. I found myself cool, calm, and ready to kill. The Glock 17 didn’t ask much of me as I pointed it in the right direction. The round was chambered and the only thing that stood between life and death was the application of five pounds of force to the trigger. I knelt in wait for a death that would never come. Nobody busted through the door, no shots were fired, and after twenty minutes of silent wait, I replaced the chambered hollow point back into the magazine.

I know that they say that the truest weapon is the mind, however, something about having this particular handgun felt life-changing. I knew that all it needed from me was a brain impulse. I felt, confident, in-control, and most of all, I knew I was the most dangerous thing around. If whatever was moving outside my house tonight were to have broken in (if it was a person), I would have killed that person. With over twenty hours of independent training on the Glock 17, approximately 600 rounds fired through my own personal Glock 17, and the past few days doing shooting drills, dry fire, and consistent practice to make sure I never missed a single shot if I ever had to use it, I was genuinely relieved nobody tried to break in — for their safety, not mine.

I’m glad this happened tonight. I had never looked down the sights of a pistol with intent to use it for it’s actual purpose before that night. I know now, that I can do it if I needed to. I also have a new-found respect for the Glock. I see now why it is widely used by the police. There is nothing to this gun other than its ability to kill if needed. No safety switches, no complicated problems; it fires every time, hits wherever it is aimed, and all it asks of you is your permission. Having a Glock with me when I felt I may have actually needed it was the most comforting feeling I ever had during a potentially terrifying moment in my life.

Glock for Home Defense

I love the Glock but I have to recommend anyone with kids at home, that they just shouldn’t buy a Glock. After owning one for a few months and giving serious thought to this sidearm, I’ve come to the conclusion that it is a very accurate, trustworthy, reliable, life taking device. This sidearm isn’t just something to go to the range with. The Glock is a fighting pistol, period. For that reason, I recommend it for a household comprised of responsible adults. If the day ever comes I have children, I’ll buy a different handgun and give this pistol to my mother.

All guns are potentially deadly, but a Glock is the most dangerous, in my opinion.

There are no safeties. The Glock has a tiny piece of plastic that prevents the trigger from being pulled unless the finger is inside the trigger guard. Beyond that, if a round is chambered, without the hand of a highly taught, responsible adult, there is nothing but five pounds of resistance in the Glock 17 between life and death.

The Glock is the AK-47 of pistols. Accurate, easy to clean, reliable, and simplistic to a fault. If you pull the trigger, it will fire; no other conditions needed or required. If anyone has problems keeping their fingers off the trigger when drawing, handling pistols, or if they have mishandled a firearm in any way in the past, even by accident, I can’t recommend they own a firearm of any kind, but I give you my word from experience, if someone like this owns a Glock, there will be undesired results in the form of a negligent discharge that will cause damage to property, and possibly serious injury or death.

Do I recommend a Glock for new gun owners? Absolutely not.

Do I recommend a Glock for people in the field of protection? YES… This is the gun to have if your life is at risk but I personally feel that you MUST train with an instructor if you want to be safe with this firearm.

In my judgement, the Glock is the perfect killing machine. It will kill in the right or wrong hands. And if you have kids, sell it. A Glock has no place in a home with children.

I’ve never seen a firearm more perfect for killing in any condition than the Glock. It is the most dangerous piece of hardware I have ever laid my hands on and it requires vigilant, unwavering responsibility to safely own one because there is nothing mechanical preventing it from doing what it’s designed to do. I’m impressed with the Glock beyond measure. I respect this sidearm because my life depends on it. If the round is chambered, this pistol is ready to kill. All it needs is your finger and an electrical impulse from your brain in order for someone to die.

The simplicity of the Glock system is as amazing as it is terrifying. I felt that when I stood ready to defend myself with the Glock 17. Before that moment, it had always been the gun range but it wasn’t until I was looking down the sights expecting that I might actually have to use it that I realized how easy this sidearm makes it to fight compared to any other pistol in the world. I finally understand why James Yeager calls this “The Fighting Pistol”.  Luckily, I didn’t have to use it but the confidence in knowing that it WILL do what I tell it to do, if I need it, was quite the experience. I wasn’t worried that it would fail me. All I had to worry about was whether I would make the correct decision in a split second if I had to use it. Thankfully, I didn’t have to use it but nothing quite hit me where I lived than the moment I grabbed that Glock in a self defense situation.

Comments Purged and Forums Down

Regrettably, due to an attack on the site, I had to purge all comments in order to catch the real participants and keep them here. I’m currently working on stronger anti-spam measures to prevent things like this from happening.

The Forums Page was also trashed due to an unmanageable amount of advertising and spam. I sincerely apologize for any lost work. I too, have lost a great deal of precious time creating and designing the forums.

As soon as I have a solution to evade the spammers, I will have a new forum system up. Once again, I’m very sorry for the loss of time and effort that you may have encountered due to my unavoidable actions I had to take to reclaim the site from those who took advantage of us all in order to advertise whatever it was they were trying to hawk through our name.

I suppose that’s the price of what little fame we have! So there’s an up-side! I’ll get this fixed. Just stick with me. Thank you.

Patriotism and Gang Mentality

Somehow, I feel that patriotism shouldn’t involve gang mentality. Too often, I see people express their thoughts about the wars we fight, only to see them belittled by “patriots” for having voiced their opinions. Usually, the people that criticize such openness use “you don’t know what it’s like so shut up” as their reasons, or “it’s not about what you think, it’s about the person next to you”.

Sure, it can be about the person next to you, and it is. Also, it’s true that some people may never know what it’s like to be in a war. However, isn’t true patriotism being able to accept the opinions of other Americans regardless of their personal experience? Otherwise, what were we fighting for if the fighters tell everyone to shut up?

That’s tyranny masquerading as liberty, isn’t it?
At the very least, it’s gang mentality.

Furthermore, someone once brought up a point that it feels as if we’re fighting for corporate controlled reasons rather than freedom. The person that brought it up was told that they fought for the person standing next to them, as if that was an answer. It’s not an answer. Just because a corporation might control the government, which issues the orders to the soldiers that fight for those who stand next to them, doesn’t necessarily mean that this is a proper rebuke.

I realize this because if it were true, then, that would mean that while our soldiers do indeed fight for those standing next to them, the people that get our bullets are still getting killed over corporate greed regardless of the mentality of those whom send the rounds downrange.

Now, I’m not saying I totally agree with the person that says we are fighting for corporate interests, however, it bothers me greatly that a soldier can reply with a comment that has nothing to do with the original statement, and their reply was accepted without consideration that, at the core of it, wasn’t compatible with the statement at all.

That’s equivalent to a person making a statement that gang members will rob liquor stores in pairs to steal money out of the register, and having the gang member reply “that’s not true! I did what I did for the gangster that walked in with me.” — and somehow, the general public accepts this as an answer even though it really didn’t make sense.

The expected reply from a possible patriot will probably be the default:
“Bryan, you don’t know what it’s like. Until you join the military, shut the *** up.” — regardless of the fact that I already stated I didn’t exactly agree with the original assumption that we’re doing it for corporate greed. ANY observation in a negative light toward the common thought process will most likely be met with near-murderous responses.

Warm welcome to new readers and writers!

I woulWritersAread like to take a moment to welcome Heather to our forums (and writing area). She has taken the time to contribute some really good poetry as well as a fictionalized letter to the president in our fiction section. Thank you Heather, for contributing to Abyssal Books as we rise up from a major restart that will hopefully benefit the writers here as much as the avid readers soon to come. Everyone here is just as important as anyone else. For all newcomers to Abyssal Books, my door is always open. If anyone has any questions, concerns, or comments, feel free to ask me, or any member here. If your questions don’t get answered, feel free to just ask me. We are just getting started and until we get enough content, the forums might be a little tricky to understand without knowing what is supposed to go into the specific sections within. But always remember, any mistakes are tolerated. We didn’t get to be the writers we are today without stumbling and learning; forums, this website, or anything entirely new to someone is no different. It takes patience, teachers, and students alike to get better at anything and nobody will ever by treated badly for putting something in the wrong section or adding anything to a place where it doesn’t belong.

In the process of recreating the interactivity of Abyssal Books that I always wanted it to be, I expect to learn more every single day from everyone here, as well as help whoever I can to become better writers, too! Most importatnly, I hope the stories we weave will captivate our readers in ways they never dreamed possible!

I aim to be the most helpful moderator anyone could ever ask for and I look forward to writing with all of you and/or reading your amazing stories. For the writers, thank you so much for being a part of this. For the readers, I’m glad you found us. Enjoy the stories.

Are you a writer? Do you write? You’re a writer!


You know you’re a writer when hypocritical posers in coffee shops that spend their time making memes about how writers know they are writers — when the checks start rolling in, start to critisize you and then get angry; angry for realizing that you don’t care what they think, because your fictional characters are more fun and meaningful than their opinions of your success — or how much money you make.

I’ve seen a writer torn to shreds and quit writing based on the opinions of others. Every writer know this. If your fingers touch the keyboard, if you strive to be creative, if you are open to learn new tricks of the trade, and if you’re willing to push yourself for your story — you will have a good story and you’ll be a better writer day by day.

That’s what being a writer is.

Being able to pay your rent with your writing is about being a good business man (or woman). Edgar Allen Poe went his entire life without being famous and was well under the radar. Emily Dickenson only published seven poems while she was alive. Make no mistake, these people were writers before they died, and they weren’t living in mansions either.

If you write, you’re a writer. It’s very important to me that this message is made clear. I was too chicken to tell someone off back in 2001 when I watched him laugh at a poor young girl that wrote great fiction, and I promised myself that I would never let anyone else suffer the same fate again if I could help it. Success isn’t a proper measure of your ability to create and produce.

It’s imperative that nobody be let down based on the success of others’. I encourage everyone that want’s to be a writer to write. And when you’re done with the first chapter, you are a writer. Continue being a writer; write the books, stories, poems, and messages and pay no attention to the haters. What they’re doing is hating, what you are doing is creating entire worlds. And if you get famous, remember, you were a writer a looooonnngggg time before those checks came in and you should encourage everyone who wants to be a writer, to be a writer.

A Christian Horror Story

Today just has me drained. I know that not all Christians are like this; of course I do because most of my friends are Christians and they represent the type of Christians I feel should be more prominent in this modern-day. Kind, caring, helpful, thoughtful, and accepting Christians. But I tell you what… When a Christian movie comes to the movie theater, it attracts the type of Christians that could potentially make my Christian friends lose their faith in Jesus along with humanity. I got to see the full spectrum of Christians today from good all the way to bad! The honest, Jesus Christ loving Christians, the God fearing Christians, the Soul Saving Christians, the Hippichristians, the fake Christians, the super-fake Christians that only go to church to get inside some hot girls pants, and finally — the ones that really drained me, the Judgmental Christians, and the God Warrior Christians.

The Judgmental Christians and the God Warrior Christians are the type of Christians that even my best friends, who are honest, Jesus loving Christians would probably feel just as ashamed of for having them included within their own faith. Over the past three days, I’ve had to deal with this. Mainly Friday, and Sunday (today). Opening day of “Son of God” was bad, and the Sunday viewing of “Son of God” was even worse. Both these days, someone had to come up and push my buttons.

I’ll skip Friday and just talk about today (Sunday).

The problem I’m having with the Christian faith is that there aren’t enough honest Christians walking around. In the seven hours I’ve spent today at the movie theater, I’ve seen more of the type of Christians that want confrontation and a reason to judge than the type of Christian that I’m often told about that exist. You know, the Christian that won’t judge; the Christian that is loving and accepting.

Finding what is widely considered a “True Christian” is like finding a four leaf clover. You have to look really hard because they’re all the same color and all the other clovers are more prominent because they are so greater in number. I’ve said this before; I have no problem with faith, I just have a problem with assholes and it gives  a pretty decent illusion that I dislike people of faith. The last three days certainly helped taint my image.

It all started today when I prepared to clean theater nine. “Son of God” was just getting out and most of the masses (pun intended) clapped loudly at the movie and cheered in the wake of the Son of God’s demise. Odd, yes, I know. I read both Bibles and I still don’t understand why everyone was so happy about their role model dying a violent death, but that’s beside the point — most everyone had left but there were small patches of people here and there that wanted to stay to see the credits; that was fine, I just walked to the top row and began working my way down with the dreaded dust pan and broom. None of the audience was near the top two landings so that gave me roughly 12-14 seats to clean without hindering anyone’s viewing experience.

When I got to the second landing from the top, that’s when I was within “conversation” distance from one of the customers and it was all downhill from there. Thanks to the massive mess left behind by all the customers that decided to leave entire dinner trays for me to pick up after, I had to make a run to the trash cans already. But I couldn’t do this at that very moment because a smiling older man and his group of judgmental friends were waiting for me. That’s right, they had spotted me all alone and his pack had targeted me for assimilation in much the same way the Borg roamed the stars in “The Next Generation”. I didn’t make my decision on what type of Christian these people were right away; I always give benefit of the doubt but by the way they just lingered and waited for me, I took a lucky guess how this conversation was going to go and I did everything I could to avoid it.

“That was the greatest movie ever made, you know! I’m surprised you didn’t stop to take a moment to appreciate the most important parts of the movie that were playing during the credits.”

He was referring to clips of the movie that played out in small boxes at the top corner of the screen as the credits were rolling. I decided, I need this job — I’m not going to get drawn into a conversation with him and give him or his group the opportunity to interrogate me further. I nodded the screen and then to my bucket and informed the man, kindly, with a full smile.

“Yeah, I guess I could have but I’m the only usher today and I have sixteen theaters to clean. Can’t get behind. I’m glad you enjoyed the movie, sir. Have a great afternoon.”

“This isn’t a movie, son… This is history!” He said with glee.

I just smiled and walked past him. I made down the next few landings and around the corner faster than his group could walk but let me tell you, I had never seen a group of people in their sixties walk this fast after me before in my life. I had to check my pockets to see if I had a bottle of Ensure with me or something because they were breaking records to get back to me.

Sure enough, they caught up to me again as I was dumping all of the smuggled in food from Johnny Rockets, Target, and Jimmy Johns.

“I bet you’ve seen this piece of priceless history more than once! You do get to see movies for free, don’t you?” His wife asked me — at least, I think it was his wife. So there they were, the man, two women, and some other guy I’ve never seen before. All smiling at me in silence. What the hell did I do to deserve being put into such a situation?!

“I’m sure it’s very interesting,” I was running out of room to wiggle out of saying “no” at this point.

“Well, have you seen it? It’s been out for almost three days now! C’mon. How many times have you seen it?” The old man asked. I couldn’t tell whether he truly thought I had seen this movie more than once and was, for some reason an entertainment center for him and his wife along with their friends, or if they were just searching for confrontation. Either way, they were persistent about it so I gave them my answer.

“Nah, I haven’t seen it.”
“You should!” His (assumed) wife replied. “It’s important!”
“You get to see movies for free and you haven’t seen this yet? Why not, son?”

First off, I was getting angry at him calling me Son. Nobody calls me Son. The only two people in the world that earned the right to call me Son was my Dad, and my Mom. It took all I could to not explode on him right then and there. I don’t know why he was calling me son but if it took turning my back on him and possibly getting into trouble for being rude, oh well… I somehow covered up my feelings and tried once more to wiggle out of the awkward conversation once more.

“I’m busy all the time and when I’m not working, the last place I want to be is here, too. I’m glad you enjoyed the movie! Have a good afternoon. I really need to get back.”

“This needs to be the first movie you see next time! And you need to see it before it’s out of here.” He demanded. I think I even heard one of the women say ‘Amen’. “You look like a true Christian, son and I wanna hear your thoughts on it next time I come to watch it. I’ll be here to see it again! So what church you go to?”

I think the whole ‘son’ thing was really getting to me. I did the ‘I’m walking backwards slowly’ trick but that’s when it got really creepy. It was a dark hallway and the group of four kept walking toward me between the shadows and the light. It was the most ominous, creepy feeling I had all day to be literally stalked like that. It was something right out of a Stephen King novel. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I don’t go to church because I’m not Christian and I’m not going to see this movie because I don’t believe in it. I read the book before the movie came out anyway and I was none too impressed, especially with the first novel. I’m glad you enjoyed the movie, please, come again soon.”

I should have chosen to tell them this when they were under one of the intense MR16 light-bulbs in the ceiling. That was the worst part because in this really dark hallway behind the stadium seating, all I saw were silhouettes outlined by a slither of light that emanated from the main hallway as it draped across the dull red carpet behind the outline of their figures. I couldn’t see their faces or their reactions, only that they had all stopped walking toward me.

From the darkness I heard gasps of shock and someone even smacked their lips.

Finally the voice of the old man replied,
“I’m very disappointed. How could you not believe?!” He asks. “How do you explain this GODLY movie?”

I started walking backwards once more because I had to stop for a brief moment to take in the eerie sight of their demeanor. I had enough of the creepiness at that point and just wanted to get into the well-lit theater and clean.

“Cameras, a script, a movie company, and the projectors! Have a nice day, sir!” And I ran around the corner.

If “Son of God” left the theaters and went to DVD tomorrow, it wouldn’t be soon enough!