From Man to Man Pt 1.From Man to Man Pt 1.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
'I never meant to let you down.'
Draven lifted a stray curl of his wife's hair from her face. She smiled in her sleep as if knowing he was there. As silently as he could, he leant over the bed and kissed her softly on the cheek.
'I've tried everything.'
Rising slowly, as quietly as he could manage on the wooden floorboards, Draven retreated from the bed. By the fractured light from the shutters he made for the bedroom door. The walls of the house were thin and he heard a creak from the neighbouring room.
'Best be off before Kale wakes.'
Reaching for the door behind him, still facing the bed and his sleeping wife, Draven paused. Drawn, painfully drawn like poison from a wound, he found his eyes stray to the chest at the foot of the bed. Shut away from the world under key and lock, he linge
Natalya Aleksandra Ryzhkova - BiographyNatalya Aleksandra Ryzhkova - Biography3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Full Name: Natalya Ryzhkova
Code Name: Koshka
Date of Birth: December 25th 1982
Place of Birth: Novosibirsk, Russia
Rank: Senior Lieutenant
Occupation: SVR Field Agent
Hair Colour: Brunette (with a flare of red in the fringe)
Eye Colour: Green
Weight: 139 lbs
1999 - Russian Ground Forces
2002 - FSB
2004 - Alpha Group
2010 - Vympel
2013 - Voron
Martial Arts/combat skills:
- Ground Forces: specializing in intelligence
- FSB: Cyber warfare and counter-intelligence
- Spetsnaz: (Alfa/Vympel) rappelling, parachuting, chemicals, explosives, advanced CQB, spy-craft, languages/accents... etc.
- Systema: Koshka is a dedicated Systema
.SetIt is Akhet, the season of sorrow and silt, and Set.Set3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
must tense his sandbreath against the slick of wet
once more. It's always the same: though he's unsure
who started the game, or whose face he wears,
he knows he must prepare for the beginning of the end,
the bite of night and all the slippages in the inbetween.
And he swore he'd bait their breath,
but they'd rather choose death than fear,
with their tombstone legs, arms pegged
in sockets and their locked ears,
burying themselves beneath blocks
built to the sun. They outrun him, every time.
It's a crime. He remembers what his mother said:
do what you're able to keep them faithful,
to keep them grateful under the table.
He wonders where it all went wrong.
So he must sink into the long light, fight wanderlust
for blighted floodplains, and try not to ask why.
There are no answers, only questions.
Even his name is disguised by the way they collide in the dust.
He won't look back to watch the waters rise,
or the blackening of the swallowed
A Single WingI have scarsA Single Wing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've never had
to fill holes
that don't exist
They say that
I am whole
but my other half
How come I miss what
I've never had
APH - They Were Once HisRoderich's house was in chaos.APH - They Were Once His4 years ago in Drama More Like This
Not that it had never been an absolute mess before, especially after two great wars. But he had just barely managed to set things right after he was finally left alone again when the crisis struck. Now it seemed as if he had not made any progress at all.
People were everywhere. His once carefully kept gardens were filled with haphazardly set tents that ruined the manicured lawn. The hallways of his once seemingly empty house were filled to the brim with arms and limbs trying to find heat and comfort from the November cold. He was hardly able to play his piano anymore, as the music room was crowded. Even his own bedroom offered him no solace.
His original tenants were beginning to complain. Yet despite the fact that he was no longer capable of supporting any more people, still they flocked into his home seeking freedom and comfort. And he was not in any position to deny them what they sought.
After all, he had made a promise.
Just a little over a yea
Fox and Krystal LoveIt was beautiful night as Fox McCloud was standing outside of the mother ship, The Great Fox waiting for Krystal to come out so they could go for a walk on the lushes green planet that they had arrived on. Fox and his teammates were taking a little time off since they had completed so many missions that there commander, General Pepper had allowed them to take a short vacation.Fox and Krystal Love6 years ago in General More Like This
I wonder whats taking Krystal so long? Shes already wearing her uniform so I wonder whats keeping her? Fox thought as he stared up at the dark blue sky. Fox was wearing his all green and a white jacket. He kept on his knee pads because he felt like it but he wasnt wearing his elbow pads or the communicator on his left arm. Sorry Fox Im late. I had to do a little changing.
Fox turned around to Krystal and when he did his jaw dropped. Krystal was wearing the clothes that Fox had first saw her in. Krystal wore her yellow halterneck crop top, her white miniskirt w
hymn for a God slain in battle.My lack-lustre longing for the Garden of Edenhymn for a God slain in battle.3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
brought all of Heaven down upon me.
Unfledged in my downy youthful nescience, I danced
barefoot until the prismatic glass splintered
eyes of the deepest blue, an ocean
of wonderment rising up over the coastal defences,
flooding the floor of my kitchen, pooling
puddles of farcical adoration
and lace curtains fluttering, a dragonfly-winged mirage.
And like a gaping wound, horrible lips
so meagre and mephitic as knife-slashed
satin: tarnished, frayed blade, erubescent in battle
and gasping for more.
The leaves swayed above the clouds,
scattered thoughts and daydreams left to wander
atmospheric strata, and I scraped the ceiling
with my fingernails, ceramic sensitivity screaming
prayers to a God with no name,
whose believers shun His face and erect
pillars from His blood, a pedestal
on which to seat His divinity complex,
shrouded in His dessicated cerement;
their creed sails along the thin blue line --
and faith at last drifts off to sleep
BloodRunning away, again and again through the yearsBlood7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Moving from white square to black and back
Packing and unpacking things without meaning
Carrying them from here to there religiously
The doctor says there’s nothing wrong, but still
I’m up at three, drinking coffee, coughing up blood
Watching the same old ghosts watching me
I don’t have to pack them when I move, they follow
A cannibal who’s eaten everyone around him
I’ve turned on myself now, three toes already gone
Watching the lights of the modem blink yellow
No connection; another cough, another coffee alone
Final Dream of a Filly Ch. 3The funeral was a modest affair. The town gathered up a collection and the mortician was even kind enough to donate a simple black coffin for the sake of holding her. It almost didn't seem real as Scootaloo stared down into the open casket and examined the tiny bundle within. They had done a good job, she admitted. She still only looked asleep, a small smile permanently hovering on her face from her final dream. Scootaloo turned away and cast her gaze to the sky, a sigh causing her to shudder. The weather team hadn't been able to clear the skies. Why, she didn't know, but the day was somber in its muted gray sky that occasionally rumbled with the softest rumbles of thunder.Final Dream of a Filly Ch. 33 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"It's time, Scootaloo we should take our places." It was the mare who spoke, beckoning the filly away from the casket to stand beside it instead. She had positioned them to watch the approaching procession of friends and loved ones that heavily trod to the filly's final resting place. Upon seeing Applebloom and
TodayToday the sun shone brightly, as though the months of darkness were only a bad joke.Today2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I walked out to see the world again, the cracked pavement, the slush, the green dumpster for dreams (full again).
Still, there was a warmth in the old bricks which had been lost. Cars and trucks made music on the wet asphalt.
My head opened up to let dreams in again. Binge and purge, the day won't last long.
Tomorrow or the next day the darkness will return, blowing snow and foul bitter winds through my clothes.
Tomorrow the ghosts will whisper again in my ears, calling, cajoling, saying "Join us."
Tomorrow maybe I will, but today the sun is bright, and love is still alive.
Today, the beasts are relegated to lurking in the shadows, hungry but helpless.
Today, I am.
to the boy who doesn't plan on leavinghow much of me can you swallow, loveto the boy who doesn't plan on leaving1 month ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
before you finally purge?
I am a cartographer of bad
experiences; I can locate
precisely where I see our divergence
extraordinaire and I can tell you
before I have even met you
that the skin on my hands is too
dry for the softness you plan
on caressing me with.
let me tell you how this ends;
I will show you all the people
I have destroyed - flooded
to the best of my ignorance,
driven wild with jealousy,
had whipped with lust and left
smoking pot after four
promises stating otherwise.
let me tell you how this ends;
after showing you the blessed
catastrophe it is to be human,
you will destroy me. you may not mean much
but god, my heart
will make sure
I never miss people who leave.
I miss the ones I walk away from
with guilt tainting my forlorn
how much of me will you swallow
before you finally purge, love?
a girl once called me her home
until she saw just how much
bigger I am on the inside
and it took her
a day and some minutes
the mechanisms of ocean waves When I was little, I loved sea foam.the mechanisms of ocean waves 2 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fragile lace like a fine seamstress, hoping to maybe sew it onto the edges of myself, make myself some semblance of Aphrodite. Yet it crumbled, leaked through my fingers, leaving only the trace of salt behind.
Eventually I gave up on the sea foam. One cannot keep chasing after things that just barely exist.
My father told me never to plunge int
Window of OpportunityI am dying. I am dying and there's nothing I can do about it. I know this, but I refuse to believe that I will just fade away quietly: that when I'm gone and when those that knew me are gone, that there will be nothing more of me in existence. I want to be remembered; I want to make a mark. Is it not the human condition to desire this?Window of Opportunity1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I feel that no matter what good thing I attempt to pursue, it takes me somewhere that I had never intended to be, and that much further from my goal. Every consequent step taking me further down a tangential path I never consciously made. I have two hands and a voice and the knowledge of how to use them, but I feel less and less that I am competent enough even to do that.
I don't desire fortune or fame, but at least profundity. I do desire to be a good person. I strive to be the best person that I can be, and I am not blind to the fact that I am clearly not achieving this goal. As each day passes, I feel myself sitting idly by as my potential slips and m
love people"We call everything a river here."love people1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's a love parade
beautiful blue and white houses
spill children into the street
like beads of happy colored glass--
music all over.
the trees are spring,
fall, and summer,
green yellow maples
all love people
two moons to a face
I think of a quiet
pebbled stream in this moonlight
and a younger woman,
like a single brush of ink,
as the pebbled stream dips,
into winter, or untimed wild.
telephones and cortisonePuerto Rico is still asleeptelephones and cortisone1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
while we starfish aimlessly in the sea -
We are like lost men seeking shelter
in a place where the sweating sun
is forever at high noon,
ceiling fans turning slowly
and dewy drops on upper lips.
I am like the skinny girl in an indie movie
who lounges around in her underwear,
a cigarette dangling limper than dirty hair.
A phone rings somewhere.
I am grasping at a dream
like I am drowning and watching
the surface float away, falling
so deep into sleep that
the stars seem to sing.
the center of the universewhen i die, the earth will remain unchanged.the center of the universe2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
mountains will still soar above the plains, and
the moon will stay in control of the oceans,
repeating it's orbit around our planet.
when i die, cities in africa will remain the same.
buildings will not tumble to the ground, and
the citizens will go about their daily lives,
repeating their orbit around the sun.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.A Bloody, Stupid Miracle4 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
Where Seagulls Dare “There’s no escape, you know.”Where Seagulls Dare3 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Thomas put his head on one side, slapping the water out of his ear. “Sorry?”
“There’s no escape...from the island.” The heavily bearded man gave him a stare. “The same rocks that sank your vessel have defeated my every attempt at floating a raft.”
“Oh.” Thomas wasn’t sure exactly what one was supposed to say in this situation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“There’s food enough to get by here, if you don’t mind bitter roots, insects, sour berries. That’s almost the cruellest thing.” Beneath his stitched-leaf hat, his eyes gazed out to sea. “Compared with the open ocean, this place offers a fair chance of survival. But can it really be called living? Trapped here...on the island?”
The Ink Will Write Their StoryI'll bring them to lifeThe Ink Will Write Their Story3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let them breathe on my page
They can't stay confined in my mind
The ink will write their story
No one understands them as I
So I have to write them
They want to be known
Their stories must be told
It's not just words on a page
I's memories, meaningful moments
Every letter, every word
Draws the pictures of their life
When they cry, I feel their pain
When they laugh, I smile
When the times seem most dark
My heart wrenches for them
The ink will write their story
And I control the pen
Barefoot in the SnowYou ask me how I am; I’m fine, I’m fineBarefoot in the Snow9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My toes have fallen off from walking barefoot in the snow
But I didn’t need them anyway, I’m okay
It’s you I’m worried about, grey –faced and dull-eyed
What’s going on, old friend? You’ve lost weight
Your step is slower, your shoulders stooped, are you in pain?
I see you’ve lost your toes as well
Let us walk together then; daylight will come in time
Peter Pan SyndromeWe love the taste of cereal and would have breakfast at every meal if we could - cheerios and chocolate milkshakes over a pile of comic books, dreaming.Peter Pan Syndrome5 years ago in General More Like This
Lets never read directions, but twist our way through streets destination anywhere winding our way to sunset. And it seems so careless, but I just want to let my soul drift with yours in an eternal state of wanderlust.
If youre curious, my favorite color is violet. I sing in the shower sometimes and I read books in the corner next to the vent. I wish I could smell like strawberry candy, and sidewalk chalk was my first paint brush. I have trouble using a desk at home and I will always harbor an affinity for oatmeal raisin cookies. I have nothing to hide
Exhale the stress and breathe me in. Lets shoot up rainbows and somewhere along the line well stop at a diner and, no, its not designer, but we like it that way. Off-tourist-trail vintage please -finding meaning in the unusual our expert
david and goliath.He passes underdavid and goliath.4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the dying streetlamps'
darkening splashes on his face,
against the rooftops.
The tarmac, painted with his footsteps,
white lines of vertebrae
tickle along its back.
Lovely glass, shattered fragments
ruffle the curb of the pavement,
strands of rainwater
whisper along the gutter
in hymnal honesty; and sunlight seems swallowed
by the swollen beast of night.
prickle at the back of his memory,
a nervous pattern of speech,
syllables of iambic chattering
teeth against the cold:
the hotel window, shining with
the gaze of a thousand tourists' wonderment,
is where his own eyes rest,
as if the world is born anew
and love-songs spike the evening air
his life-tousled hair. He
walks on, passes on,
a stranger in a foreign land;
the moonlight seems
to turn about him, embrace his form,
a lonely touch, not quite animate in its caress,
but his love was the colour
of seawater on gravel,
and he would not take the taste of her brea