THE LIONS DEN

(FUCKING HATERS UP)
DISCLAIMER:  EVEN THOUGH THEY MAY RESEMBLE FOLKS YOU KNOW THE HATERS IN THIS STORY ARE NOT BASED ON ANY PERSON ALIVE OR DEAD.
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.
THE SOUNDTRACK...
TOP 5 BEST VIOLIN DUBSTEP/ELECTRO!: http://youtu.be/B5xB2X3oclo

He sat awake in his bed thinking over the last few weeks.
The strange events.
The suns light shone across his legs as it filtered through the windows glass.
Well no time for that he thought as he swung his legs out of the bed. He went into the bathroom and shaved, showered and brushed his teeth as he always did.
It was part of his ritual and he performed it as he had since he was a teenager.
He left his house and walked down his street as always, yet to him things were not as always.
In the past few days he had begun to see hate... I mean really see hate as it rode silently along wrapped in peoples auras.
On some of them it was a small thing, like a bracelet, a necklace.
On others it was like a cloak or a jacket.
They having worn it so long that it had become comfortable.
Then there were the ones who were consumed by hate, the ones who hate swirled around and came out of their mouths, they breathing it through their noses.
When he had first started to see hate he had recoiled in fear and hate had sensed that.
Had reached out a tentacle and dangled it in his face, tickled his nose with it.
Only his years of meditation and preparation had saved him.
This journey having been prophesied when he was but a boy.
He walks and is soon on the bus where he sits across from a pretty girl.
At least she woulda been pretty before he had begun to see.
Now she has a huge scab on the side of her face and it pulses.
Hate has begun to eat of she.
He looks out of the window and a car pulls up beside the bus.
He looks into the car and notices two men sitting in the front seat.
He can see the driver and the legs and shoes of the passenger.
The driver looks up at him and he feels a chill as he realizes that the driver knows that he can see.
He is draped in hate and it is a harden shell on his skin and it makes the man think of a Klingon on Star Trek.
He laughs inside at the irony of that thought.
The bus pulls off and the car falls in behind.
He sits back and the pretty cancer girl smiles at him.
Her gums oozing hate onto her teeth.
He has figured out some things in the past few weeks of observing hate.
Hate has different personalities on different people.
Some peoples hate brooded while other peoples hate was all action.
In constant motion, trying to fuck some shit up.
He waited until the bus got on a busy street in the city and as it pulled to the corner he rang the bell and got off. The bus pulled off and the car with the two haters pulled by slowly.
The haters looking him up and down.
They would be back.
He walked a block or two and sat on a park bench where he had a good view and sat down on the back of the bench with his feet in the seat.
He saw the haters before they saw him.
They saw him and came his way the air around them distorted by their disturbance.
Fucking haters!
"Man what's up with you?" The Hater who had been driving said.
The other Hater just stood their with a haters leer.
"Nothing bro" the man said.
His calmness only seemed to enrage the Hater more.
"You thank you cool don't you motherfucker! Posting that shit on Facebook!" The Hater said and his punk ass hating friend sniggered at this.
The Hater then made the worst mistake of his hating life, he swung at the man and the man leaned to the side and in a fluid move was standing on the ground.
The Hater pressed his attack and the man feignted to the side and planted one dead to his hating ass jaw.
The hate seemed to peel away from his face and his hating ass friend watched cause a whole lotta haters ain't got no heart.
He scooped the Hater and slammed him to the ground and he heard and ass the hate as it exploded from his lungs and he punched the Hater in the face.
The hate started to crack and chip away as his fists seemed to elude light.
Golden rays.
He whupped the Haters ass and the haters friend ran away cause he rightly surmised that he would be next.
The man stood up and kicked the Hater in the side of the head a couple of times and the hate fell away from his form.
Shrank into nothing.
The man looked at the former Hater laying knocked out on the ground, turned and walked away while opening his page on Facebook and posting a status.
In the last few weeks something had manifested in him.
He was now whole.
He departed with purpose in his stride.
He had work to do.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY