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Mitch Laurence [userpic]

Once again...

January 30th, 2012 (05:42 pm)

... news of my death has been greatly exaggerated. I'm merely reinventing myself. Stay tuned loyal followers.

And remember, Heed The Messenger... or else.

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

Why yes, it's true...

December 13th, 2009 (02:52 am)

... I've risen, again. This is all a part of the Good Lord's plan.

I have a son: Rex Balsom. Plus my lovely daughter Jessica. My children have blessed me with grandchildren. We'll be one big happy family someday... whether they like it or not.

So, did you miss me?

Heed the Messenger!

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

"Look Out!"

August 19th, 2006 (02:01 am)

It was a beautiful day. The sun was quite bright, so I was wearing my Ray Bans and humming a jaunty tune. I had just retrieved the mail and was strolling past the front window of the Church of Lazarus. The plan was to lounge on my favorite bench and check to see if anyone had sent in a donation. Before I could take a seat, a rock whistled past my head, cracking into the window. I immediately turned and shouted, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

No one responded. In fact, there was an eerie silence as I surveyed the surrounding area. It reminded me of the time my ex-wife Dorian and her niece Blair had tried to make me think our home was haunted and drive me insane. I was blind at the time and the clattering of pans and jingling of chains frightened me quite a bit. Was someone playing a joke on me now? The thought discomforted me and I decided to take my mail and head inside. Only a fool would play mind games with me again...

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Agree or disagree?

July 22nd, 2006 (10:47 pm)

There have been many attempts on my life. I've been beaten, blinded, nearly drowned, knocked out with blunt objects, my image tarnished, verbally attacked, financially broke, snubbed by family. I do believe that these experiences have made me stronger. When you've been through so much, you're ready for the next hardship. We're tested every day. If we pass, we gain valuable experience and insight. Even if we fail, we learn. Lessons on how to handle situations differently the next time around.

They may try to strike me down again, but I will grow stronger. I will look my foes in the eye some day. Beat them at their games. Make them wish they'd never crossed me. Make them grovel at my feet. A good man can't be kept down. I won't be broken. I will live to spite the nay sayers. Yes, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I'm living proof of it.

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

Musings and a lunch meeting (Open to Prue and uninvited mystery guest)

July 2nd, 2006 (10:52 pm)

Mitch was quite pleased with himself. The recruiting was off to a slow start, but he'd met a few interesting people. He folded the envelope Miss Jacks had left and returned it to his bible. The check had already been cashed and he hoped to get a chance to thank the young lady for her donation.

He'd been in touch with another young woman, Miss Prudence Halliwell. She also had experience with returning from the dead. The details weren't known to him as of yet, but he was looking forward to listening and sharing his own story. Mitch had extended a lunch invite to Prue and she'd graciously accepted. He hoped she didn't mind sandwiches and macaroni salad. Catered meals were still beyond his budget.

As Mitch waited for her to arrive, he set out a pitcher of iced tea and tidied up the main room of his makeshift church. He popped a compilation CD of hits from the 80's into the boombox and set the volume low. He couldn't help but hum a long as he finished setting the table.

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

What makes you angriest?

June 23rd, 2006 (04:49 pm)

The lies and misdirected blame are what make me angry. Do you really think I could convince someone to commit murder? I simply tried to help a woman end an emotionally abusive relationship. She needed to get out and I offered advice. How was I to know that she'd try to shoot her significant other in the back? How did Lindsay get that gun anyway? Well, technically the weapon was registered to Todd Manning. Why was I arrested in connection with Sam Rappaport’s murder? Yes, she shot the wrong man, oh well. Troy Maciver, Sam Rappaport: both sinners in my book anyway.

The people of Llanview liked to blame me for everything. I was accosted by three different men on one day alone. Attacks based on lies. The police department is a sham. The police commissioner protects his family at the expense of others. Blame it all on Mitch Laurence. The papers would accuse me of the most ridiculous crimes.

Make sure you accuse the person who was in the wrong. You wouldn't want to make me angry, now would you?

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

When I awoke the next morning...

June 7th, 2006 (05:54 pm)

I opened my eyes slowly. Instead of white ceiling, tree branches hung over my face. My hands grasped leaves and dirt, instead of soft down comforter. Throbbing head, churning stomach. I sat up, with some difficulty, and viewed my surroundings. Where was I? My mind raced as I tried to recall the previous evening.

Cassie Callison. The young woman had shown an interest in me. Beyond the drugged iced tea and enthusiastic sermons. I was sure of it. One step closer to seducing her and she stopped me. The truth of the matter: Cassie was a news reporter and had infiltrated my cult organization. She was using me and this angered me to no end. She screamed and yelled. I tried to make her stop. I hadn't seen the person creep up behind me. It felt as if my skull had been cracked open. My vision grew blurry as I lost consciousness.

But how did I get here? I slowly stood and clutched my head in pain. My hair was matted with a sticky substance, which as I pulled my hand away I came to realize was blood. I aimlessly wandered from the wooded area. It felt as if I'd walked for hours. Small buildings came into view: a gas station and a rest stop. I spotted a bench and sat, weary from my travel. A newspaper lay abandoned at my feet. I lifted it and was startled by the front page story:

"Mitch Laurence, cult leader and ex-con was found dead today, a bloodied candlestick by his side. One of his most trusted disciples claims to have seen Cassie Callison deliver the fatal blow. Miss Callison has been arrested and awaits trial."

The paper slipped from my hands. How could this be? Had I really been dead? I'd ruffled so many feathers in Llanview. Perhaps this was my chance to start over? I'd let everyone believe I was dead. I could care less if Cassie was convicted of a crime she didn't commit. I vowed to return someday... and I did, but that's a story for another day.

[Note: the events described took place in 1986.]

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

What does 'comfort' mean to you?

May 29th, 2006 (06:22 pm)

Comfort. I often think back to a certain time in my life with fondness. Descending from the staircase, wearing my red and black satin smoking jacket. "Lois?" How wonderful it was to have staff at my beck and call. "Bring me the morning paper and a cup of coffee. Now!" I would settle on the couch in the study of Llanfair, sun streaming through the glass doors that lead to the garden.

Lunch would be brought to me on a silver platter. Meals prepared by a first class chef. As the sun set, I would indulge with a glass of brandy and perhaps a good book. Maybe even the good book. If I needed a laugh, there was always the ridiculous tabloid: The Sun. That Todd Manning was a piece of work!

What would I consider comfort today? A glass of fresh brewed iced tea. Sharing "The Message" with those who might accept it. Not having to look over my shoulder. Yes indeed, that's my idea of comfort.

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

Opening my doors to those who seek guidance [Open to any and all]

May 22nd, 2006 (12:53 am)

Mitch whistles as he unfolds the chairs in three perfect lines. This "church" is smaller than his last, but it will do. Pleased with his work, he moves on to the refreshments. He sets out two pitchers of iced tea, a bowl of freshly cut lemon wedges and a few stacks of plastic drinking glasses. He can't afford fancy glasses like the ones he'd drunk bourbon from at Llanfair. He reminds himself that patience is a virtue. There's also a plate of pastries, colorful to the eye, filled with fruit jam.

The tea was homemade. The special ingredient would calm his would-be parishioners. Make them feel at peace. They'd want to come back for that high. High on the message, or so they might believe. Truly addicting tea. He hadn't been as overzealous with the amount of this ingredient, as he had in the past. No, he didn't want someone to catch on... as they had in Llanview so many years ago.

Organ music is playing softly from a portable CD player. He'd chosen an old wooden desk instead of a pulpit. People these days were often scared away by too much religious symbolism. Can the message be spread this way? The 80's were long gone. Days of wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses and a smirk, standing before tons of followers. They bought every word he preached and lavished him with money and expensive gifts.

Low key is the way to go, for now. He'll reel them in. They will heed the message. The Church of
Lazarus is now open for all who seek spiritual guidance... and a mighty tasty glass of iced tea.

Mitch Laurence [userpic]

Write about mother (your own or someone else's)

May 20th, 2006 (02:28 pm)

Our mother claimed to love us: my brother Walker and I. She took us to church every Sunday. We said our prayers each night. We were sure she'd protect us, as a mother should. Yet, she turned a blind eye when father locked us in the boat house. She barely said a word when father sent Walker away. How could a mother tune out her son's screams for help as he was beaten?

The mother of my child: Victoria Lord Davidson. When the DNA results proved me to be Jessica's father, how Vicki vowed to keep my precious daughter from me. I am not my mother's son. I would have protected my daughter at any cost. In fact I did just that, although no one would believe my claim. The last face I saw was my daughter's. Left for dead. She turned and walked away, watched me suffer, just as my mother had so many years ago.

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