The Truth Is Out There

It was a Friday night, September 10, 1993. It was pitch black dark in my parents house. I was home alone, laying in my sister's waterbed because her room had the working tv.
There was a LOT of hype about this new science fiction show that was guaranteed to blow your mind and in a sense frighten you at the same time.
I was a gullible teen, still easily scared of things that went bump in the night. In my life I had already experienced a few in the houses I slept in.
Building up on the hype of the unknown about the show I was scaring myself without realizing it. Finally the show started. By the end I was hiding under the covers, too afraid to move from the safety of the bed, knowing if I set my foot on the floor I would become a victim of The X-Files.
- Max M. Power

Hurricane Season

When it's hurricane season Mother Nature creates storms so massive they destroy lives in a matter of seconds. They start out of no where and there is no way to prevent them from forming.
From Thanksgiving to Valentine's Day is Hurricane Season for people with live with depression. No one knows why but the holidays hits them hardest.
If you know someone with depression please keep this in mind. They will not tell you nor will they show it, so as not to ruin the holidays for you. They will suffer in silence.
An extra hug, words of encouragement, saying "I love you," can make a huge difference. It only takes a few seconds.

I'm Tired

I'm tired.
I'm tired of life.
I'm tired of the drama.
I'm so tired.

I'm tired of the bullshit.
I'm tired of the fight.
I'm tired.
I'm so fucking tired.

I'm tired of taking the blame.
I'm tired of it all.
I'm so tired.
I'm tired.

I'm tired of life.
I'm tired of Death avoiding me.
I'm tired of being tired.
Lord,  I am just tired.

- Max M. Power

Dark Demons

Dark demons are coming
And there's nothing I can do
But let them come
Because they bring memories of you.

Memories so strong
I can see your beautiful face
I can smell your hair
And feel your warm embrace.

I would sell them my soul
To wrap my arms around your hips
And just once more
To kiss your soft lips.

Dark demons are here
I'm consumed by their gloom,
Drowning in the memories
Of the love from you.

Max M. Power

Show Down

Paved roads and high speeds reminded you that you lived in the city but the small wooded area was enough to give you a country feel, balancing that fine line of City and Country living.
The air was cool as the morning dew soaked the grass on the islands dividing the road in half. The East side of the road was covered in trees, hiding an ocean of wild life while the West side was littered with industrial buildings.
At five in the morning on a Sunday I was the only idiot awake and on the road, or so I thought.
The crisp air kissed my face as I cruised down this dark road on my way to work. The moment was to beautiful to disturb so the radio remained off, the silence of nature filling my ears.
Up ahead I could see a large black mass in the darkness which meant something was in the road. A flick of my wrist turned on the brights but it wasn't enough to penetrate the darkness so I slowed to a stop before the black mass.
A buck was standing in the left lane staring at me. A beautiful animal that any hunter would love to get their hands on was standing in front of me.
I honked my horn, breaking the silence, in hopes of scaring off the huge buck, but to no avail. He just stomped a hoof and held his ground.
Seriously? I honked again.
"Fuck you buddy, I have to get to work. You're lucky or you would be dinner."
I yanked the wheel to the right and gunned the gas. As I passed the buck in the other lane we made eye contact and the world slowed down.
"Well played Sir," his eyes said. "Well played."

Fact of the Day

Fact of the Day: Smurfs aren't real.

I Am A Hunter

I am a hunter.
It's what I do.
Ghost, zombies, and aliens.
Laugh but do you see any around you?

They exist.
Make no mistake, they do.
But I ask, see any around you?

I am a hunter,
It's true.
Stop laughing!
I'm why you don't see any around you.

The Feeder - The Lost Stories

Sierra sat in the corner of the room watching out the window.  The room was so dark that any human could not see past their own nose.  Sierra, however, was not human, at least she not in the past six hundred years.  Being able to see in the dark is one of the great advantages of being a vampire.  Hyper sensitive hearing is another.
She could hear the fearful heartbeats of the humans in the next house.  She didn’t know who the other humans were and she really didn’t care, Sierra was there for one person, her feeder.
It’s been forty-eight hours since the last time she fed.  The hunger was growing stronger by the minute and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could contain herself.  Sierra did not like feeding off of random people or the innocent but the more her hunger built the more she was willing to make an exception.
The two men Sierra was watching weren’t exactly innocent.  Yesterday morning they held up a bank.  Two people dead, six wounded, and eight hostages, including her feeder.  They managed to lose the police but Sierra was able to track them through the scent of her feeder.
The fear coming from inside the house was intoxicating.  Fear made the heart beat faster which made the veins throb as the blood pumped faster through them.  Sierra sniffed the air once more, savoring the sweet smell of all that fear.  It made her hunger burn more intently.
Sierra could no longer contain her hunger.  She needed to feed.
She began to strip off all her clothes.  She wanted to get into the house without a lot of attention.  Going in naked is better than a lot of gunfire.  Sierra jumped out the window and landed softly on the cool mist covering the grass.  She walked over slowly to the front door and rang the bell.  There was a lot of noise being made as the two men inside grabbed their guns and came to the door cautiously.
Looking through the side window both men seen Sierra standing there naked as she turned around slowly, her arms stretched out away from her body, so they could see she had no weapons.  They opened the door.
“Fuck me,” the first man said as he stood in the doorway staring at Sierra.
He was taking it all in.  Sierra’s long straight jet black hair, her pale smooth milky white skin, lightly peppered with freckles.  Her heaving chest with her hair falling over them slightly, barely covering her nipples like a curtain.  Her curvy hips and a small strip of black hair, trimmed in front.
“That’s the idea tiger,” she answered with a slight giggle.  “You gonna invite me in or are we gonna do it here in on the porch?”
The man stepped aside so Sierra could come in.  Sierra walked in slow and seductively, the smell of heat and lust hitting her as the door closed beside her.  Both men were too excited to pay attention to Sierra’s hands.
As the door closed both men drew close to Sierra, pressing against her like she was the meat in a sandwich.  She smiled an evil grin as her green eyes began to glow.
“Typical men,” she whispered before snapping the neck of the man in front of her.  She reached behind her quickly to grab the throat of the other man.
As the man coughed and gasped for air Sierra pulled him close so she could smell his fear.  She smiled as the intoxicating scent filled her nose, causing her to bare her fangs out of excitement, before sinking them deep into his throat.
The first squirt into her mouth tasted heavenly, like chocolate would to a human.  That sweet taste of fear is what she needed, it is what she craved.  Sierra held on tight as she began to devour the blood coming from her food.
Sierra’s body began to tense up as the blood gave her strength that had been draining out of her over the past two days.  Refreshed, she dropped the body that she had been holding and kicked it aside.
Blood trickled down the side of Sierra’s mouth as she licked her lips.  The hunger has been silenced.  Her thirst quenched.  She walked slowly to the back of the house, the smell of fear leading her to the hostages, and her feeder.
There was a set of stairs in the kitchen that led to a basement.  There was a padlock on the door to keep the hostages from escaping.  Laughing to herself Sierra grabbed the padlock and squeezed, shattering the lock to pieces.
Dropping the broken lock to the floor Sierra yanked the door open.  A rush of hot air hit Sierra in the face softly.  Again the sweet smell of fear filled the air, the scent stronger as she drew nearer to the hostages.  She could not help but to lick her lips as her mouth began to water.
Strolling down the dark stairs into the basement Sierra’s eyes began to glow like cat’s eyes, allowing her to see in the total darkness.
The eight hostages were all lying on the floor, two men, five women, and Sierra’s feeder.  They were all tied with their hands behind their backs, their feet bound together at the ankles, and a rag tied across their face to gag them.
Sierra walked over to her feeder and swiped at the ropes, cutting them with ease with her razor sharp nails.
“Come on,” Sierra said, “let’s get out of here.”
Grabbing her feeder by the wrist Sierra yanked her to her feet.
“What about the others?”
“Forget them,” she snapped, leading her feeder to the stairs.  “You can call the police after we are gone.”
Sierra walked faster, pulling her feeder harder.  As they reached the kitchen the moon was shining through the window.
“You’re naked,” her feeder observed, “you must be horny again.”
“You bitch,” a male voice yelled from the hallway.
A third man was standing over the other two dead men.  Sierra quickly rushed him before he could react and snapped his neck in the blink of an eye.
“You have no idea,” Sierra answered her feeder, breathing heavy.

The New Writing With Power

I am relaunching Writing With Power come 2016.  With the new year will come a new company.

A new logo:

A new bio:

Max was born in a library, surrounded by books from all over the galaxy. His gypsy soul never stayed in one place for very long as he traveled the universe, having many great adventures, all while lying on the carpet floor in the living room. 
His story telling abilities have been compared to Robert Patterson and Tom Clancy, without all the boring details. 
Today he lives in a hanger just north of Houston, Texas where he soars through the clouds on Wings of Gold, writing and telling wonderful stories.

There will be rewrites of all my books. I am in the process of cleaning them up because in my inexperience a lot of mistakes were made and you deserve for those mistakes to be corrected.  You can purchase an ebook directly from Smashwords or from your favorite book retailer.  A pocket size print book can be purchased directly from Lulu, the publisher, at a great discounted price.  If you wish to collect an older version you can still purchase them now.
Starting in 2016 you will also be able to purchase a 6x9 size print book from your favorite book retailer.  Prices are going to vary but this is out of my control. The Big Boy retailers require a higher set price, however, I will set the price at the lowest possible cost allowed.
I wish to thank you for your support over the years as well as your continued support as I grow as a writer.  As always your opinion is wanted, please leave any comments or suggestions below.

Max M. Power 

My 2 ¢ents Show

that's my 2 ¢ents is going to the airways. I will be reading my blog post as well as giving my opinion, because those that know me know that I have one. If you have a question or a subject you want my opinion on, email me,, and put "My 2 ¢ents Show" in the subject line.
Subscribe to the show at


"Beware the bearers of false gifts and their broken promises. Much pain but still time. Believe. There is good out there. We oppose deception. Conduit closing." - This was a warning that appeared in binary code in 2002 in this crop circle. Notice the picture is of a GREY, the species that supposed enslaved mankind to protect them from the Reptilians. Every time there is an abduction it's the Greys that do it. Are they who we should beware of?

The Dreaded Truth

“What’s on your mind,” Scott asked Jean as he handed her a glass of lemonade.
“Nothing,” she lied, taking the glass and drinking it quickly to avoid having to talk.
Scott sat in his rocking chair, next to the swinging bench where Jean sat.  He looked out over the porch.  The house was surrounded by woods on three sides and a pond seventy yards in front of them.  Scott owned forty acres of land in Northeast Texas, his home for the past sixteen years.
He took a long drink of his lemonade before rocking back and forth slightly, the wood creaking in a gentle rhythm.
“Jean I’ve known you your whole life,” Scott finally said, fixated on the turtle on the edge of the pond.  “I can tell when something is wrong.  I can tell since you arrived yesterday that something has been bothering you.”
Jean closed her eyes.  She should have known better than to think she could hide her feelings from Scott.
“I’ve never forced you into talking to me and I won’t start now.  I know that whatever is on your mind is big, life changing big.  You’re a grown woman, you have questions and I just hope I have the answers.”
Jean took a long drink of her lemonade, finishing it off, as she let what Scott had said sink in.  She did have questions.  Questions she knew her mother would never answer, questions she knew Scott would not be willing to answer but she needed to know the truth.
“I’m not sure where to start,” she finally said with a heavy whisper.
“Just start,” Scott answered gently.  “Don’t worry about my reaction.  Once the first question is asked the rest will come easily.”
“Why didn’t you want to be my dad,” she blurted out, tears filling every word.
“Well that’s a good place to start,” he answered, unfazed by the question.  He continued to look across the pond but was staring past the turtle.  He was drifting off to his own little world.  He knew someday these questions would be asked and his own private world is where he kept the answers.
“If you want your answers follow me,” Scott said as he stood up and walked off the porch.  He didn’t say another word or slowed down.  He didn’t have to turn around either, he knew Jean would rush to catch up.
They walked through the woods in silence, taking the deer trail they had taken so many times before on nature walks when Jean was little.  Scott knew she knew these woods like the back of her hand but there was a trail hidden that she didn’t know about.
Scott moved a bush aside to reveal the hidden trail.  They continued on in silence until they came to a small tree.  This tree was out of place because all the ones surrounding it were fully grown and this tree was still young.
There were two benches facing the tree in a V shape.  Scott sat on one and motioned for Jean to sit on the other so she could face him.  She was about to break the silence when Scott held up his hand, staring at the tree for a few more moments.
“I have always wanted to be your father,” he said, finally breaking the silence.  “There are a lot of things you don’t know.  Things your mother wanted to protect you from.  It was not my place to say but now.”  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Now I think it’s time you know.”
“First of all, I have loved your mother since the day we met.  I was promoting my first book and the email I got from her was life changing.”
“We emailed back and forth for a day before I sent her my phone numbers, because I had to drive out to my first book signing.  Literally less than a minute after sending that email my cell phone was ringing.  She said she didn’t want to stop talking and stayed on the phone the whole way from Houston to Dallas.  It ate up most of my minutes but truth be told, I couldn’t stop talking either.”
“This went on for about a week, talking on the phone or emailing.  I couldn’t get any writing done at all.  Finally her vacation was over and she had to go back to work, so there were some breaks but we still chatted every day.”
“The only thing that bothered me was that your mother was already engaged.  I never liked the guy but they were engaged before we had ever met so I felt I had no right to say anything.  She swore in some ways he and I were a lot alike but deep down I knew better.”
“After a year she filed for divorce.  I saw that coming too.  I was happy for her but at the same time I knew she was hiding something.  She refused to tell me and I loved her too much to make her tell me.”
“I had a book signing in D.C. and your mother snuck away to come see me.  We had a chemistry together that exploded the moment I looked into her eyes for the first time.  It was a magical evening and the next day I was on a plane to Chicago.  Looking back now I wish I had taken her with me to finish out my book tour.”
“Your mom went to her new life in Virginia.  No one, not even me, knew where she was, or so she thought.  That bastard tracked her down and did the unthinkable.”
“For five days he kept her tied up to her bed.”  Scott swallowed hard, trying to get past the anger and pain building in his body.  He had to be respectful for Jean’s sake.  “He beat her, starved her, raped her.  He walked away and left her for dead.”
“I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know where your mother lived, she was trying to start over wanted space.  This was the longest we had ever gone without talking and I was dying inside.  Finally the police found her.  When she didn’t show up for work they came looking for her.  She was in the ICU for a month, in a medical induced coma.  I was listed as an emergency contact and I cancelled the rest of my tour.  A week later I flew out to sit with her.”
“I never left her side and when she woke up I had to be the one to tell her everything that had happened.  Your mother died a little the day she was kidnapped, her spirit broke completely when I told her what happened.  She goes on, for you, but inside it still kills her and she comes here to get away from what happened.  That’s why she needs the entire summer to recover, because it took the entire summer before she left the hospital.”
“What exactly did happen,” Jean asked, afraid of the conclusion that was forming in her mind.
“The police were looking for him.  Your mother’s best friend since kindergarten and your uncle were looking for him.  Your uncle found him first but in his anger he didn’t call anyone and it cost him his life.”
“I had the element of surprise because no one knew I was there.  Tracking is tracking, no matter what kind of animal you’re hunting.”  Scott looked over at the tree before continuing, “he never knew what hit him.”
“I brought him here.  It took all my strength not to let my anger take over him.  Jail was too good for him, he could still torture your mother as long as he was alive and he had already destroyed her world.  Killing him quickly was too good for him as well.  I did the only thing I could think of.”
“I cut him all over his body so that he would bleed out slowly.  I dug a hole ten feet deep and put him in it.  I covered him and planted that tree to mark him.”
“I never told your mother the details but she does know he’s dead.  Six months after she left the hospital you were born.  You know your mother almost died giving birth to you and since she was in another coma I named you after your uncle.”
“I brought you both here.  You lived here the first year of your life.  I asked your mother to marry me but the thought of marriage brought up images of her first marriage and she would break down so after three rejections I stopped asking.”
“Your mother moved back in with your grandmother and I sold my house in Houston to move out here permanently so I could make sure your father would never be discovered accidently and destroy your mother again.”
“DNA makes a man a father but love makes him a Dad.  I have tried to raise you as my own because I love you and your mother with all my heart.  I know it’s a lot to put on a sixteen year old but what happens next is up to you.  If you wish to turn me I understand and will not fault you.  I will love you no matter what you decided.”
“Dad,” is all Jean said as she flew into Scott’s arm and hugged him tight.

Burned by a Burrito - The Lost Stories

Father Lewis was a kind man.  In his younger years he was a strong athlete and very devoted to God.  He loved his morning runs with God.  Now, in his later years, the runs have turned into long walks.
Father Lewis likes to walk around the neighborhood, like a Doctor making his rounds in a hospital.  He was a spiritual Doctor, a Sheppard tending to his flock.
He visits those that may have missed Mass or seem like they need a little personal attention.  Those that hang out on the street see Father Lewis on a daily basis.
Today he visited Mrs. Ramirez at work.  The Ramirez family owned a small corner store.  Bills were beginning to pile up which forced the Ramirez’s to open their store on Sundays.
Father Lewis figured if they couldn’t come to church he would bring the church to them.  Today’s visit went well.
His stomach began to growl.  It was almost lunch time and he had missed breakfast this morning.  Mrs. Ramirez had offered Father Lewis a large beef and bean burrito and it was his policy to never refuse food from his congregation.
Sitting at his desk in the back of St. Augustine Church he began to wish he had refused.  Now he had a bad case of gas.
Father Andrews and Father Smith had found this funny.  Even as grown men of the cloth, farts still made them laugh.
As time passed, the gas grew worse.  The farts got more intense.  The smell was bad.  Soon Father Lewis found himself alone in his office.
Three P.M. rolled around and it was time for Father Lewis to sit in the confessional.  He left his office and made his way toward the confessional.  He stopped to light a candle for every member of the congregation he visited this morning, fifteen candles in all.
He said a quick prayer and stood to leave.  As he turned away from the candles a gush of wind escaped his backside.  The sudden rush of gas hitting the candles caused the flames to flare up into a mini mushroom cloud.
Father Lewis turned to face the flame as in an instant they jumped onto the drapes, catching them on fire.  The fire spread quickly up the drapes.  As the flame reached the top it spread in both directions along the cloth lining the walls.
In less than a minute the drapes surrounding the church were on fire.  Father Lewis stood there in disbelief.  He had started the fire with a fart.
Father Smith stepped out of the confessional and seen the fire.  Quickly he rushed over to Father Lewis and pulled him toward the back of the church, away from the fire.  Father Andrew was holding a door open for them as he called the fire department from his cell phone.
It did not take long before the rafters in the ceiling caught fire.  The church was being burning down to the ground by a burrito.  Father Lewis began to cry.

The Lost Stories

The Story Teller is a collection of short stories I wrote while I was taking a Creative Writing course.  Many stories poured out of my pen, but not all made it into the book.
Recently I was cleaning out an old dresser than made a lot of paper in it. Basically over the past ten years it became a junk dresser, five shelves full.
While a lot of junk was thrown out, there was some treasure found.  There was notebook after notebook of unfinished stories and a few that were completed but never made it to type.
I decided to finish what I started.  I am typing the finish stories, polishing what needs polishing, because ten years ago they are very raw stories, and sharing them with you.
Hopefully you enjoy what is to come. "It would seem my hypocrisy knows no bounds."


I have a confession to make.  I killed two people.  To explain what happened I have to go back to the beginning of summer.  I was outside mowing the grass.  Living next to the woods I know there are all sorts of insects I have to watch out for.  Well, one of those little suckers got the best of me and bit me on my lower back, close to my spine.
After five days I needed to go to the hospital, the pain was unbearable.  After some mini drama, caused by the pain, I was admitted to the hospital.  Within the hour blood was drawn, not just a single vial or two, no, I’m talking a lot, like half a pint.
Over the next day it was decided that I needed surgery.  It took a total of three days before I went under the knife and in that time frame more blood was taken, and by more, I mean another pint total.  I made a few jokes about all the test they were running, needing all that blood.
Maybe you can tell me exactly what bit me?  Laughter… No.
Maybe you can tell me what kind of infection I had?  Laughter… They are just going to treat it like staph, just to be safe.
Maybe you’re trying to clone me?  Silence.
Maybe you’re trying to figure out how to implant a mind control device during surgery so the government can use me as a patsy?  Silence.
I had my surgery and was released the next day.  I’ve never been knocked out like that before or woken up in that manner.  The next day I was sent home to recover.
Over the next five days I felt helpless.  I couldn’t do anything for myself.  I was waiting for a release to return to work but I was told I could only get that release if I went back to the hospital to see the doctor who did the surgery.
When I called to get my appointment time all hell broke loose.  Heated words were shouted, tears fell from being overwhelmed, and I was told the doctor wasn’t ready to see me so I could go to my own doctor to get my release.
Over the next three weeks I was healing up faster than anyone thought I could.  My doctor even said I shouldn’t be healing that fast.  I took this as a good thing, after all I’ve always been a fast healer.  The following day I received a phone call that made me question my own healing.
The hospital called and said I needed to come in right away to discuss something that was discovered in my blood.  Remembering the last conversation and the price they said I would have to pay to see the doctor in the hospital I told them to kiss my ass before hanging up.
The phone rang again and I was told there would be no cost for the visit.  In fact, if I came in right away my entire hospital bill would be dismissed.  My stomach dropped and I thought I was going to faint.  If they wanted me to come in so badly that my entire bill would be dismissed it must be serious.  They offered to pick me up but I was already driving so I headed toward the hospital.
When I got to the hospital I headed up to the fourth floor.  As I stepped off the elevator the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.  There was complete silence on the floor.  I walked around the corner from the elevator and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Standing at the desk staring back at me in disbelief was a very sexy handsome devil.  To his right was that same good looking hunk.  I wondered why a doctor would have fun house mirrors in the lobby.
Then I thought the mirrors must be broken because the reflection was distorted.  Finally it dawn on me that those were no mirrors because we were all wearing different clothes.  This could only mean one thing.
Fear took over and I wobbled as fast as I could back to the elevator.  My cane started to unscrew itself from the fast motion of my hopping while trying to remain balanced.  As I got to the elevator I pushed the button in a panic, over and over again, thinking my hard pressing would recall the elevator faster.  The door, after what felt like an hour, finally opened and there was another dashingly handsome face staring back at me.
Trying to prevent my escape the clone lunged toward me.  I raised my cane to block him from grabbing me and as I did it finally opened.  I pulled the sword out of the cane and instinct took over.  I pushed the clone away from me and thrust my blade forward.
I could feel the cold steel pushing through the soft fatty flesh that was my body, right through to the heart.  At the moment the other clones caught up and stopped suddenly, all of stunned by what just happened.  They watched helplessly as life faded away out of my eyes.  I was literally watching myself die.
As the clone slumped to the floor lifeless, it also slid off of my sword.  The thump of his body woke us all from our trance.  The other two clones grabbed my arms and tried to pull me back away from the elevator.  I started kicking wildly, connecting with Two’s groin.  He instantly let go of me and fell to the floor.
With my arm free I swung it around to pull away from One.  Taking advantage of my new found freedom I swung as hard as I could with my cane, hitting one in the head with the metal base of the cane.  He fell down, unconscious.
Turning back toward the elevator, Two was in my way, on his knees, but regaining his breath and attempting to stand.  In a panic I swung the sword with all my strength from left to right, cutting his throat open.  Blood spewed out and I jumped back, unable to dodge the red spray.
The doors began to close and I made a dash to get into the elevator.  I pushed the button for the garage and the elevator finally began to move.  I looked over at my body lying there, trying to figure out what just happened.  As the doors opened I wobbled to my truck as fast as I could and drove away like a bat out of hell.
Now I’m looking over my shoulder everywhere I go.  Somewhere out there is at least one more me.  I’ve been expecting the cops to arrest me but even that has its complications.  After, what will I be charged with… murder or suicide?