InheritanceHe plucks a bitter C noteInheritance in Free Verse More Like This
on a two hundred year old violin
that belonged to his mother,
and her grandmother.
The strings have never fallen flat before.
Seafoam and AshA girl once told me she was conceived by the ocean. "By" not "beside" her skin was the color of new seafoam and you could follow her green eyes into the deeps and drown there. She had a soft, papery voice that sighed in and out and dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders like dried seaweed.Seafoam and Ash in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She was born along the sea strand, where the ocean met solidity and pounded it into tiny grains. Perhaps she was delivered in a clump of seaweed or crawled her way out of a pink conch shell and learned to swim before learning to walk. She carried an air of calm serenity that rippled around her like an aura wherever she went, content to flow instead of fight.
I met a boy born from the fire tailing comets rushing through the atmosphere. His hair was a shock of red swinging upward and he lit up entire rooms with his presence. He always spoke a little too fast, the words rushing from his mouth like sparks off a firecracker, flickering and dancing. His golden eyes flashed
FirefliesWe kept cicadas and caterpillars in mason jars, but never fireflies. My brother still has a cicada from three years ago, sleeping away under the lid. Grandpa says it'll stay that way for 17 years like all cicadas do, and it's okay to keep them safe.Fireflies in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But we don't catch fireflies; they don't live that long. They say light travels faster than anything, but our bugs are fat lazy things that travel nowhere in a big zigzag. The tall grass lights up with tiny little flashes every night all summer long and all is dark not two months later, but for the time being they don't even know they're dying.
QuietlyShe stabbed at her potatoes with a deliberate slowness; the lulls in the surrounding conversation always came when she was in the middle of chewing a mouthful of food, and those lulls were the only chance she got to get a word in edgewise. But those chances passed by each time - someone was always faster, louder, shoving whatever tentative sentence that had been forming on her lips aside. She was too polite to say anything, instead turning back to the potatoes and stabbing a little harder, kicking herself under the table for being such a doormat.Quietly in Emotional More Like This
They didn't mean to ignore her soft voice; it only kept getting lost, overpowered by the people around. She told herself that, over and over. Over and over. Over and over. But the mealtimes consistently found her sitting alone because while dealing with loneliness was one thing, having it shoved in your face was another.
In the end, it was easier to deal with it alone than to let other people talk around, over, and through her as though a ghos
Periwinkle TeaIt's only about 1AM but it feels so much later and I don't know why.Periwinkle Tea in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I get nights like that sometimes, especially when I've spent so much of it reading and everything I've ben reading on dA tonight has been soft or sad or subtle or bittersweet or any combination of those things and I'm typing this with my entire left hand and only two fingers of my right because the thumb and forefinger still have residue from the bag of potato chips I can't stop nibbling on.
I'm out of tea and this makes me sad because I don't really want to make more this late but maybe I will anyway because I'd like to trade in my potato chips for chocolate sticks. I think I'd like something warm for the next few hours.
My tea mug is periwinkle blue.
There must be a perfect ratio of tea to sugar because everyone else seems able to find it but me. I kept putting in spoonfuls of sugar but it never got any sweeter until it got to the range where I knew I really didn't need that much in my system but it's not my fault t
Little ManShe considered herself a feminist, but when her man wanted her to do something, she did it. It didn't matter what it was, when he called she was there in an instant.Little Man in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She tiptoed into the room, careful not to wake him and peered into the crib where he slept soundly with a Pikachu doll.
FFM-2012-5It's been so cold since you left. I put on long sleeves because it feels like a hug but it wasn't enough. So I hugged my bear instead, but he never hugs back and maybe that's why I never gave him a name.FFM-2012-5 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I guess what I'm trying to say is I still miss you.
Facets1. He pulled a thick novel out and balanced it on his palm before fishing a pair of reading glasses from the mess on his desk. The surprise must have shown on her face, for he directed a quip at her.Facets in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
2. She yanked the controller out of his hands before he could lost a third consecutive boss battle and promptly died before being sent back to the loading screen.
3. She pulled out several CD's from the shelf.
"I didn't know many people in my age bracket enjoyed Celtic music so much."
4. They had planned to have a few rounds at the bowling alley to alleviate the boredom of small town life, but found their plans thwarted upon seeing the sheer number of people inside. It was just their luck that they chose the one weekend when a tournament was being held.
5. She made a sharp turn into an abandoned parking lot and slammed the brakes. "Give me thaaat!" and snatched the GPS from his hands, studying the digital map.
"Idiot. You've still got us set in the same town w
(A)Musing - Part OneIt took ten minutes for Lawrence Bradley to realize he was still on the same paragraph, reading without actually reading. He blinked at the page rather dully before opening the bedside table drawer and fishing out a bookmark. The story would not progess tonight, not as long as these thoughts weighted heavily on his mind. He folded up his wire glasses and laid them on top of the book. Sighing, he slouched his way into a more horizontal position.(A)Musing - Part One in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It would have been a lie to claim he wasn't attracted to her. And Lawrence Bradley was, among other things, a honest man. He was attracted, but he didn't know why.
She was quite sweet, but no more so to him than she was to everyone. Intelligent, yes, but weren't most of his students? They managed a passable enough imitation of intelligence anyway, at least when they showed up for class. She wasn't pretty - and that wasn't a harsh judgement on his part. Autumn Fanshaw was as plain Jane as they made them and he'd taught his share of
Two Wolves Walk Into A BarCharacters:Two Wolves Walk Into A Bar in Drama More Like This
Albert (Little Red Riding Hood Wolf)
Jack (Three Little Pigs Wolf)
Sitting at the dimly-lit bar, The Kinky Fox, drinking away the day Albert and Jack discuss their own unfortunate events.
BARTENDER: Why the long snouts boys?
JACK: It's a dog eat dog world out there.
ALBERT: You're telling me, today's security systems are way up the wall. I can't even get into grandma's house anymore.
JACK: I know, these modern houses don't even have fire places. Chimneys were my game.
ALBERT: Did you get chased by a sociopath with an axe today? I don't think so.
They take another shot and continue with their conversation.
JACK: You know, if you're going to dress up in women's clothing all the time, then you should be prepared for far worse than that.
ALBERT: What could possibly be worse than a sociopath with an axe? (sarcastically)
JACK: Man, I don't need to hear about all of your fetishes
ALBERT: IT'S NOT A FETISH! It's for disguise!
FFM: Day 9The world was ending. The very fabric of the universe unraveling before the might of the Infernal machine.FFM: Day 9 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
With a final cry of desperation, Susan reached towards the console even though it was far beyond her reach. "Please! Don't do this!"
Alakahazar loomed above her, sudden and terrible, and wearing his custom shoulder pads, the ones with spikes.
"Alright then." He said, and flicked the off button on his remote control. The roaring maelstrom of destruction subsided, and Susan was left staring at him, completely dumbfounded.
She shook her head, tried again. "Uh, sorry but...WHAT?! You're just going to switch it off?"
He arched a devilish eyebrow at her with a facial muscular control that she had often envied in passing.
"Well you asked me to. But alright, I can switch it back on again if that's what you want." His finger hovered over the red button.
"NO!" She took a step forward as if to stop him, then thought better of it. "I mean...no, leave
FFM: Fragile ThingsYou were Seventeen years old when you first had your photograph taken, and it is in this photo above all others that you feel the passing of time most keenly. You were not a handsome boy, not yet, still somehow growing into your ears though all your peers had done that years before. You remember your shoes being too tight, and your expression is uncomfortable, but the day before Claire Simmons had kissed you on the steps behind the church and it seems in hindsight that a little of that triumphant glow still clings to you.FFM: Fragile Things in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But then, it is really just a photograph of a nervous boy in too tight shoes, who has avoided having his photograph taken for a considerable amount of time. Age and memory play tricks, and make wishes out of things, or so you have found lately.
Your second photograph is with your best friend. You think there were a few other pictures before that, but you have seen none of them. You are both in uniform, laughing in the face of future glory, convinced of your own brav
FFM: The Wandering FireThe wandering fire danced through the streets, flickering, silver quick, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Some said it was the souls of the dead passing from one world to the next. In a city as large as this the deaths were high enough to account for the frequent appearances of the otherworldly flames that cavorted down the narrow streets in the night.FFM: The Wandering Fire in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Rask waited in the shadow of a window ledge, his narrow frame curved into the twisted branch of a Hedya tree; its flowers already open to the moonlight and releasing the heady scent for which they were famed. This was a wealthy compound, all delicate lattice work and intricate stone archways, an exploration of colour and geometric patterns, all muted by the shadows of the night.
In his belt he had the knife, specifically given to him by his employer for this task. It was an unusual request, very personal. Rask tried not to involve himself in the intricacies of such things. He was merely useful to these people, and in his line of
FFM: The Problem with Young PeopleEveryone agreed that the new drug was very effective, just not in the way they had originally intended.FFM: The Problem with Young People in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Touted as a miracle cure for senility, the moment it came out of clinical trials Phenzin had started to sell like hotcakes. Retirement homes bought the stuff in bulk. The company became billionaires overnight.
Testing should have revealed the side effects of long term usage, but they covered up the evidence. Naturally, people sued. No matter that the drug did exactly as advertised, there was such a thing as taking the literal too far.
Gangs of New Youth streamed from the retirement villages with their walkers and oxygen tanks, angry at the lot they had been given.
Crime spiked, though the culprits failure to make a quick getaway resulted in a high prosecution rate.
They took to lounging on street corners, menacing pedestrians and chewing gum like 14 year old deviants; which of course they were now, in mind if not in body.
The drug was recalled as soon as the true effects became appar
FFM: Day 5 ChallengeRebecca stood in the shelter of the woods and watched the Soldiers as they dragged the dead men to the ancient circle.FFM: Day 5 Challenge in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her father, her two brothers, six other men and women. The instigators of the group, or so the Soldiers had decided. The rest of the rebels had been locked inside the town hall when they set the building alight. The scent of it was still clear on the morning air, a tang of smoke and burning things, another reminder of sorts.
The townspeople had been constrained to their homes, both unable and unwilling to see the carnage lying just beyond their doors. But Rebecca was still small, a pale, dark haired thing that could make her way through the woodland like a shadow when she chose. She had grown up in a household of men, motherless, and consequently practical and capable of getting things done herself. So when she knew what it was the Soldiers were planning to do with the bodies, she had had no choice but to follow. After all, this was her family they were taking, there w
FFM: Day 16 Challenge" and at that precise moment Celia jumped forward and hit him over the head with her aunts handbag - which as you know had previously been filled with gobstoppers - and Mr Anderson fell to the ground unconscious. It was quite a thing to see I tell you, but then your Granny always did have a good arm on her." He gave the boys a conspiratorial wink and puffed on his pipe.FFM: Day 16 Challenge in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"And well, after that your Grandmother and I rescued Snowdrop from Billy Anderson's tree fort and brought him safely back to the house."
Later on while their mother was buying ice cream from a street vendor, Malcolm turned to his brother with a puzzled expression. He was the elder of the two, but it had become clear at an early age that Tommy was the one in charge of their dynamic duo.
They visited their Grandparents every Sunday for tea, but it was only recently that their Grandfather had deemed them men enough to start hearing the famed stories of his youthful exploits.
After years of quiet anticipation over jus
FFM: The Unquiet onesPatient #1355 took her place on the examination table as she waited for the Doctors to arrive. They weren't normally late, and she found she was curiously disturbed by their absence. Her days were orderly, divided into equal portions of activities, tests and medical procedures. So having a gap seemed abnormal, threatened the balance she was used to.FFM: The Unquiet ones in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Once more than five minutes had passed without event, she started to fidget, plucking at a fraying bandage that was wrapped around her left appendage. It was an appendage much like those belonging to the Doctors, but they did not like it when the Patients referred to their appendages as hands or otherwise compared anything on their person to the Doctors themselves. There were bandages over most of her now, continuing under the thin white examination gown that bore her Patient number, stamped on the left side of the torso where it could be scanned to give all necessary information to the Doctors, who were late.
Outside the whitewashed walls
FFM: Day 30Jericho woke up with a start, momentarily disorientated, expecting home. Things had been blurry around the edges ever since she'd taken up residence in the hospital, too sick to stay at home anymore.FFM: Day 30 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The nightmares had also been getting worse. Surely dying was meant to be more peaceful than this, an ending, the release of all possible futures. She didn't feel like she was at the end of things, more like the beginning. There was a tension in the air, a breathless anticipation that gnawed away at her awareness, setting her teeth on edge, making her jumpy in as much as her frail body would allow.
She'd tried wandering the hallways as a way to distract herself, but after the second collapse the nurses had confined her to her room and taken away the walking frame. She was 26 years old, and it still hurt to realize she could barely make it across the room without assistance.
Sam visited her when he could, bringing her bits of news and interesting books he had stumbled across. Her twin, her o
FFM: The Other SideRobert watches as people swarm across the barrier, his eyes great hollows beneath the brim of his hat. He can't seem to catch his breath, is too nervous now that the moment has finally arrived. He still doesn't know if he can go through with it. Such a big part of him wants to break down and join the others, to forgive, and weep and laugh and embrace these strangers they have spent their lives hating.FFM: The Other Side in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When he was younger he used to dream of life in the South, looking at the other half of the city as though it were a kind of Mecca, an answer to all the worlds ills. It was of course a simplified view of things, but the North is a hard place to endure. Medical access has never been good, and the winters are lean, people are often too poor to afford enough fuel. It is not unknown for them to freeze to death. Later it was the military he wished to be free of and the casual cruelty they inflicted on civilians. His mother shot in the street for stumbling and tripping an Officer, executed like
FFM: Day 2The storm was in full force when Richard finally arrived at the old Waystation. It was a pitiful excuse for a village, a couple of hovels and a muddy streak of a main road, but it had an Inn built over the stones of an old burial mound, and reputation for fleas notwithstanding, it was the Inn that Richard had come looking for.FFM: Day 2 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Glancing furtively behind him, he dismounted and approached the Inn door, banging an armored fist against the wood.
"Open now in the name of your King. I am on an important quest and demand Sanctuary for the night, the fate of the realm depends on it!"
Upstairs, the Innkeep startled awake and promptly banged his head against the low ceiling. He cursed, pressing his hand against the already forming lump and looked towards the window just as a flash of lightning illuminated the raging storm outside. Another shout drifted up from below, but between the wind and the rain on the rooftop all he could really hear was that the man banging on his door was clearly a pompou
Loki SequelThe engine was a sphere of liquid power, churning and coiling in itself like the sun, tendrils of energy exposing their white bellies to the membrane that held it all in check. It hung suspended in the heart of the ship, thrumming like the organ it emulated, sending white-hot life searing through the metal veins that held us safe from the void beyond. It was not a natural thing. It burned only because the breath of a god spun it into being.Loki Sequel in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I stood at the edge of the walkway that surrounded its middle, leaning as far out over the railing as I dared. Even contained, the heat still seared at my pale cheeks and left them feeling raw. The engineering team were easily recognizable from the rest of the crew as we were the only ones that did not have the lifeless pallor from months without the sun. We burned from the ruddy tan of our Chief Engineer to my own blistered apple-red that peeled and returned to white without even a nod in the direction of brown. Behind me, Dancer manned the
InfectedThe hunters came for me first. Pastor had moved me into the church basement a dim cellar of cement with one light the went out whenever it stormed and set up a narrow cot for me to sleep on in one corner on the uneven floor. He locked the door at the top of the stairs and I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect me from overzealous townsfolk unwilling to wait for the hunters or if he believed I had murdered the doctor. Old Telly, the post master with chronic asthma, had found his body. It had been torn in half lengthwise, a jagged seam starting at the shoulder down to the hip, the ribcage popped open like a peanut shell, and then discarded on the floor of his exam room with the bright lights and the cold white surfaces drenched with red. There was nothing else disturbed all his medicines were locked away in their cabinet, his tools were untouched and his computer had been left alone even though he had a habit of not locking it under a password when he was away froInfected in Short Stories More Like This
Loki Sequel 3Here is the problem with being a god, or a scion of a god, or even a Hound with access to a god's power: one must understand reality in order to manipulate reality. Understand it, and then be able to see past what is and see what could be to disregard the structures of the universe we had been imprisoned by our entire existence. Artists and musicians sometimes caught glimpses of the other side of this veil but they could only describe what they saw. Gods brought their visions to being. Without a clear understanding of how our current reality functions, however, it was much like trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole. With enough brute force, it could be done, but it was inefficient and taxed a god's power.Loki Sequel 3 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Which is why I had learned how to fix things by hand in the manner of mortals. With one of the two pilots of the Heron hovering over me as I worked, I was very thankful that I had taken the time to do this. I suspected that he had an inkling of what it was I was disassemblin
Heralds of SnowThe wolves heralded in the winter and it held for over a thousand years. No one dared challenge it. No one. The trees hung barren, just waiting, for the laws of nature had given up and the earth had breathed its last breath and succumbed to the rule of whatever would pick up the standard of power. The seasons, the sea, the skies, everything that lived and breathed and existed upon the earth was left to command it as it would.Heralds of Snow in Fantasy More Like This
So the wolves claimed the winter and the frost and the snows that hung deep over fields and mountains that waited patiently for their turn. And we, the humans that found all our power and might reduced to the same level as all other creatures, let them rule. It was a very confusing time.
We had been the masters all along. The earth was ours and all things in it. But what happens when the earth gives its power to all things and there are no rulers, no kings, no masters?
Loki Sequel 8There was a lot that needed to be done and little time in which to do it. I estimated about fifteen minutes for the interceptors to haul our ship back to the warship, than another ten for them to get us docked. I got back to the common area right when the captain was wrapping up his explanation to the passengers. My Hounds were not in attendence and I received a few looks as I skirted past everyone and to our room further down the hallway. The door was half-open and I slipped in and shut it the rest of the way. Merrat and Phien were sorting our belongings on the floor and Sleipnir and Merrat were on the beds for lack of space on the floor. I dropped to my knees in the half-foot between the pile and the door and started to help.Loki Sequel 8 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Get everything we want hidden together and I'll see about disguising it," I said, "I can't gaurantee they won't have a sensative check the ship so I'll just do my best and hope human incompetence comes into play."
Some people were more aware of when a god's wil
Loki Sequel 10We returned to the detention wing for Phien and Hresh. This time, I could leave the cameras alone to a blank cell, as the records now indicated that these were empty and that Phien, Hresh, Merrat and myself were elsewhere. I let the guards wake behind us, their memories confused so that they would put in their own events of what had happened versions that would not involve myself or my Hounds. Then we were free. I had altered each of my Hound's clothing to match my own fatigues and we had taken rifles from the reserves in the detention control room. I was on edge as we walked through the corridors, keenly aware of the knife edge along which we balanced. It would only take one soldier questioning the system for Merrat's illusion to unravel. The scion of Sanguine need only ransack my double's mind to find that I had bound him thus, and he would know me for what I was. I felt like electricity danced along my skin, like I was hyper-aware of every breath in my lungs. Hresh touched myLoki Sequel 10 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Loki Sequel 13Fretter had not survived. I had hoped against all reason, perhaps but even as a god I could not impose my will on everything in this universe. He died when the engine exploded, not because he was left vulnerable to the fire, but because Sanguine performed one last act through his scion and took his life. I could not know what passed between the god and his subject in those last seconds but I could not find it in me to hate Sanguine for such an act. It was a thing of mercy, the last gift a god could give to a captured scion, and there was so little hope for escape that Sanguine could only assume that the will that had held Fretter safe in the void was that of an enemy god. Perhaps it was better this way, that Fretter die to the god he had served at a level too personal for me to understand, rather than at the hand of the God-Slayer. Ishtar laid his body out in an empty room so I could at least pay my respects. She stood in the doorframe, watching as I stared down at the emLoki Sequel 13 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
AnchorAn anchor had five minutes in which to reorient themselves. One.Anchor in Short Stories More Like This
I stared at the heavy steel loop around my thumb. My world was a sand castle, constructed by the subconscious in a vain hope that it would stand up on such a treacherous foundation. The ring was an unfamiliar weight and the foundation of my castle started to crumble. I did not remember it. The tide was ebbing in around my mind, whispering that my carefully imagined world was wrong. That it was lies. That the 'when' and the 'where' were pure fancy. I stirred in the nest of wires that poured information through my brain. There was a man with me, his bare back against mine. He, too, was lost.
An anchor's duty was to the pilot and the pilot alone. Not to their employer, not the guild, not even to themselves. Two.
There was an image engraved on the ring, a nautical anchor from the days when man sa
Fairytale((please note this story was written to be told out-loud, so the phrasing and amount of description has been changed to accommodate that))Fairytale in Short Stories More Like This
There was once a lady who was cursed upon the moment of her birth, so that when she reached 21 years of age, she would be transformed into a terrible beast. Her parents vowed to not tell her of this terrible evil and raised her as they would any noble lady, always seeking to find a way to evade the curse in secret – but to no avail. In her 21st winter, at the first snowfall, the lady fell senseless to the ground. There was a great cry of alarm and the hall gathered around. The lady shuddered and rose with a sound like snapping of bones and tearing of muscle and all the people recoiled in horror. She was a woman no more, a twisted semblance of humanity, broken into the body of a beast.
The lady was filled with terror and revulsion and fled the hall. She vanished into the forest and for weeks on end the hills sounded with her cries of anger, an i
Loki Sequel 9I needed to find my Hounds and ensure they were safe. I didn't particularly care what secrets they might divulge about the Hound-Gods, but I cared a great deal about what they could say about me and what I was. They'd need to be rescued and I could decide what to do from there about this warship and the crew of the Amiernes. This was the sort of thing they were trained for, after all, and while I could be clever at times I was only used to tending to my own wants and needs. If it were just me here on the Trey Fald I would be done and gone already. I decided to locate Phien first, as he would be the most likely to betray me to the scion. In fact, I was afraid that my time was limited in preventing him from doing just that. The worse the situation looked from his point of view, the more reason he would have to say something and if he believed me subdued and isolated, than there would be no reason to rid himself of a scion that had taken control of his life.Loki Sequel 9 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
He had considered murder as an
FFM 2012, July 24 - 'He's Writing This!'One morning, the device was just there, sitting on Jack's office chair. He wondered if maybe it was Maddie's, but this wasn't really her style. It was like one of those tablets, ultra thin, aluminium, sleek. He turned it around in his hands no logos, holes for recharging, or other buttons aside from a simply labelled 'on' button.FFM 2012, July 24 - 'He's Writing This!' in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Jack sat down and booted up his computer. Maddie was at work, 'real work' as she called it, and the kids were at school. His agent hadn't called him back about the Vagrant Earth II manuscript, and he didn't dare open the latest letter containing his royalty check, for fear of what it might say. While waiting for the computer to start, he turned the device on.
"Hello Jack" It printed. Personalized. Must be Maddie's idea then somehow. But these things were expensive, and she wasn't one to splurge.
"Is this your first time using the Prosaic Plot Converter?" It prompted him, with big touchscreen buttons for 'yes' and 'no'. He clicked 'yes', fe
FFM 2012, July 16 - Virtual Disease"Mom, you can't be sick because of your game." Theo sighed into the phone. "Just because VirtuaLife has a virus doesn't mean you have a virus."FFM 2012, July 16 - Virtual Disease in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I'm telling you, I feel terribly ill." His mom complained. "You should open up the vidlink and take a look at me. Do say you'll come visit your sick mother, Theodore."
"Look, mom, I'm kind of busy right now. It's crunch time, and..." Theo suspected it was just a ruse of some kind to get him to fly across three states.
"Oh fine. I understand. It's just that I can barely muster the energy to connect any more!"
Connect? Despite how ludicrous it was, he still felt a stab of worry. "Mom! If there's a virus going around, shouldn't you wait with connecting until the White Knights have dealt with it?"
"But how else am I to connect with my friends?" She chided him. "It's not like I see you kids around a lot."
What else could he do? They agreed on meeting next weekend.
The rest of the week he spent programming. It was the very latest in kinetic c
FFM 2011, 18.7 - Social PariahLearning how to avoid social pariahs is an instinctual thing, something you pick up in elementary school. It's a matter of self-preservation; don't look, don't join in, but don't step in either. If you do, you'll be next. Maybe it's an instinct in yourself that you loathe, that you consciously fight: well bully for you (no pun intended). Most of us aren't that strong.FFM 2011, 18.7 - Social Pariah in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One would think it'd stop after high school, but it doesn't. It still happens in college, among people who're supposed to be adults. I don't even know the kid's first name, but the name on his dorm room door is Card anyway. A. Card. I heard from a friend that the reason he never goes out when it's sunny is because he's got some kind of skin disease that makes him burn really easily, but I still find the stark whiteness of his skin kinda freaky. He dresses all in black too, some kind of goth I guess (doesn't he know that stuff's been out of fashion since 1999?); but then again I've seen him at the laundromat wearing just r
FFM 2012, July 19 - Body RouletteShe clicked 'new', and became a he. Her mind cloud-jumped into the male; handsome, middle aged. Opposite him sat a young woman, barely a teenager.FFM 2012, July 19 - Body Roulette in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Sex?" The young woman asked, voice silky smooth.
"Female." The man answered, masculine, gruff.
S/he saw immediately that the other had signed off, as the young woman's head lolled.
Next time she'd fucking lie. It was impossible to find conversation these days.
FFM 2012, July 18 - The Easy Way OutThe water stripped away what looked like dried ketchup or blood from the outside of the bin. Carlos hated this part of his job. The airport produced a lot of trash, and just transporting it all from the inside to its eventual end was a fucking nightmare. That was usually what Carlos did, worked as second hand on the airport's own garbage trucks, and that job was okay. The machines did the compacting and the heavy lifting and everything else, all he had to do was hook things up and pick up anything that fell over the edges.FFM 2012, July 18 - The Easy Way Out in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The other part of his job as second hand though was cleaning the bins. That was fucking toxic. He had to wear a full protective suit, gas mask and all, to keep the gunks and slag ripped loose by his pressurized water jet away from any exposed tissue. And did he get a pay increase for it? Not a chance.
They did empty the damned things beforehand though, but he still had to come back with the tank alone later and finish up. The sun was beating down on him, he was sweat
FFM 2012, July 15 - RedemptionlessShinju still remembered the car crash that had revealed her magic powers. The memory was fuel for her hatred, a fuel that never ran out. The three guards at the bottom of Min's warehouse hideout didn't have a chance. She cut the throat of two before they had time to stand up, shot the third through the head.FFM 2012, July 15 - Redemptionless in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The train crossing blinking its green light. Shinju chattering away happily, her shopping in her lap. Michi driving, his loving eyes seeking hers for just a second...
Shinju kicked in the door to the upper storey of the warehouse, brandishing her rifle. A Chinese thug let out a call, immediately cut short by a burst.
Bullets impacted around her. She moved quickly, spraying accurate fire at the Chinamen, whether they were fleeing or fighting. She didn't care.
"I'm coming for you Min!" She shouted over the gunfire.
Michi's eyes widening in surprise, looking over Shinju's shoulder. The small Honda crumpled like a child's toy as the train hit it full speed, Michi disappearing
FFM 2012, July 11 - Power of ChangeMs. Tracey Dugas was a looker. Long, blonde curls, piercing blue eyes and a petite face coupled with that unattainable sense of fashion some women seem to possess. Despite the gravity of my mission, I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her legs and behind when she turned around to lead me into the office.FFM 2012, July 11 - Power of Change in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Yes Mr. Johnson. It was AIDS." Gay cancer. That explained why the article hadn't said anything about cause of death. I had no idea what her actual job was, but she sounded very professional. "Mr. Gallo's will is waiting for you at the office."
The Manhattan office/gallery/workshop was an old warehouse, and it showed. The walls were adorned with Gallo's paintings, including a near-life-size one of none other than Ms. Dugas. In the nude. I tried not to stare.
"Mr. Gallo was very private, and did not want a media circus around his death." She explained as I sat down with the will. It was duly witnessed and signed one of the witnesses was Ms. Dugas herself, her signa
FFM 2012, July 12 - Prophecy of the RoseSchwartz lifted his shield just in time to catch the arrow. Lincoln, in his heavy plate and mail, could barely walk. They'd have mere seconds before the Lancastrian bowmen fired again, but there was nowhere to hide. The marsh was swallowing them all.FFM 2012, July 12 - Prophecy of the Rose in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"My lord, here." The mercenary captain had spied a rock as good a defence as any. Several Kerns were already crouching behind it, arrows sticking out of their legs and arms and torsos. Like hedgehogs. "Make way for the lord Lincoln!"
"Fuck you." One of the Irishmen spat. Schwartz noted he had dropped his weapon, making him a deserter. It also gave the German a chance to brandish his own. The Kern took one look at it, and then scooted over.
Just in time. Another volley sailed in, impacting all over the marshy ridge. Screams were heard all around. His men were lost. The battle was lost. No quarter was to be expected. In the distance Schwartz spied the advancing armies, led by Oxford.
Every bone in Schwartz' body ached, but hells
FFM 2011, 17.7 - No Forever"Hey dad." She typed into the computer.FFM 2011, 17.7 - No Forever in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Hey Carly." Came the answer. "How're things?"
She knew her dad was terribly lonesome in there, all alone with the ones and oughts and the one-or/and-zero quantum states they used in modern computing, ever since mom had been disconnected during that power surge. She still felt guilty about not being able to save her but she was an engineer, not a programmer.
"Not very good." She typed finally.
"I figured" He replied, and then: "I guess shutting off the audiovisual parts wasn't enough, then?"
"They say they need the power for something else and..." Carly felt a tear run down her cheek, a tear made out of all the frustrations, dashed hopes and the sense of the inevitable.
"Honey, I understand. I've been thinking a lot and...maybe it's time I join your mother. This was a swell experiment and I'm really glad I got to be with you for a while longer but I'm just a burden on you now. A literal burden on your power source. Ha ha."
"I didn't build
FFM 2012, July 30 - ConflictDr. Sanada knew something was very, very wrong the moment she woke up from cryogenic sleep. The ship was shaking, for one. Ships didn't shake when travelling through the vacuum of interstellar space.FFM 2012, July 30 - Conflict in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Computer, report." She groaned. She was sick to her stomach from the sudden decryogenization, and too weak to move. Around her the other pods were still shut. Some were empty though. What the hell?
"My name is Eo."
It was the computer's voice. But the computer hadn't had a name.
"You have been asleep for forty five years, six months, three weeks, five days and nineteen hours. Approximately."
"What's going on coEo?" She let her naked feet down on the deck just as the ship shook with another tremor.
"We are engaging Kzumi ships."
"What the hell is that?" This can't be right. "Engaging? We're not a warship--"
Groggily, she stumbled towards the bridge. She'd be able to see what was happening there.
"The Kzumi are an extraterrestrial intelligent, space-faring species found in Quadrant 10
Transdimensional Super TeamNotice: The full length version of this tale, which is far more palatable, is available right here.Transdimensional Super Team in Short Stories More Like This
The magical computer pool glowed. We stood around it like gods.
"Place your palms upon the unimetriscope," said the man in the top hat. "Validate your identities to Her Majesty, the Queen of the Multiverse."
It all seemed a bit hoity-toity to me, but there's a lot to be said for peer pressure when some extra-dimensional fancypants tells you your "peers" are a lady with wings, a James Bond looking guy, a giant robot, and a little girl and her psychic-bondmate, a white pony.
The guy in the top hat called himself Jeremy Flavius Beedle, and he twirled his mustache when he spoke.
He'd found me in San Francisco. I wasn't even working. I was sitting outside the ferry building munching down on a pastry from the shop there when he approached me.
Top hat and cane, fancy suit, and a giant
The TDST, Ch.99.The TDST, Ch.9 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The facility in the Between must have been a hive of inter-connected domes. Perhaps the christening culture had a fear of corners. Maybe the nice layouts were meant to confuse intruders with a maze, and pacify scared recruits with water fountains. I couldn't pinpoint one reason over another, so I sought out some real human sources.
The next room was less ornate than the others, though still circular and featuring a central fountain. It was large enough for people to mill around without being overheard by others. Perfect. Me and my number fours, all alone.
Besides myself, my team seemed to be the man in the pin-stripe suit, the kid and the pony, a cyborg (yeah, I know, right?) and oh god. The bitch in white who'd talked me down from my language question. I immediately avoided her like the plague and hoped she hadn't seen me enter.
I started with the kid. She'd be someth
The TDST, Ch.55.The TDST, Ch.5 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I woke up hungry and more than a little sore. It was cold, so I turned on the heat and put on a pot to boil. Fumbling through my morning routine, I was blissfully oblivious to the events of Saturday until I sat down with coffee. My stomach rumbled mightily, and I wished I'd picked up a bite to eat with Jennifer before the whole thing went to hell.
Jennifer! I almost spilled my coffee. "Don't call. Ever!" She'd said, or something like that.
My fingers were fumbling for my cell on the kitchen counter before I could register any inhibitions whatsoever. Mid-third-ring, though, I felt a little bit like a douche. She'd been as serious as can be about not calling, yet here I was. Luckily she didn't answer. I left a message, apologizing in the most gentlemanly way possible. She probably thought I was an unhinged drunk. When she'd called yesterday, I'd
The TDST, 1818.The TDST, 18 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Jack's world was right outside. I could see bits of it through the Rift Lobby's glass doors. Skyscrapers jutted into the sky, art-deco and extravagant like a photograph of 1950's New York. And in the sky, pathways connected the buildings, sky-high umbilical cords. I caught sight of the edge of a zeppelin, too. Lumiel tucked her wings into her tunic, whistled harshly, and nodded towards me.
"Pick up your jaw, Cutter," she snapped her fingers.
"Coming," I said, and jogged to join the others.
I trailed behind, looking obviously tourist, as we exited the lobby and onto a street. Things seemed so familiar, but that made the differences glare at me like an angry cat. Every building, for instance, was riddled with neon signs, advertising everything from insurance to food, boats to women. Cars purred by, nearly silent I assumed they all were hybrid, or fully electric. But the style of the veh
The TDST, 2020.The TDST, 20 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
When I got back to the TDT base in the Between, I went straight to my room.
I vowed to immediately read the rule book and the personnel files. Lumiel already had enough to bitch at me about, and I wasn't going to give her more fuel for her fire.
The manual wasn't anything I hadn't already figured out. The first part was a large re-hash of what my mystery Interviewer had told me. The layout of the multiverse, how worlds were connected by two-way Rifts, and how splinter worlds were created, but could never be interacted with. The second part was about standard equipment, like the badge (which was indeed in the desk, as Lumiel had said), the MLR, beacons, et cetera. The last part was a non-disclosure agreement of sorts, one that I had apparently agreed to the second I stepped in the Between. And the best part, if I violated it, the punishment was death.
Immediately, I felt kind of bad. Jack had a bad thing coming for him, a storm upon which I
The TDST, 1717.The TDST, 17 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Mass-Law Regulator looked like a watch. It was a green-faced device on a leather wristband, and for all the things it could do, literally rewriting the rules of physics (or magic) for the user, I was a little disappointed it didn't do much else. You'd think it would at least be able to tell time.
"Time's different in every world," Lumiel argued.
I tapped the MLR. "All the more reason to have a working watch."
Lumiel only shrugged and led us back into the hedge maze. She took a beacon from her robes, and signaled for a pickup. A hop, skip and an aquamarine flash of light, and we were back in the TDT base. The boss lady continued to lead as we marched through the marble hallways. Another maze, I was beginning to understand. We twisted and turned through similar looking rooms. If it weren't for Lumiel's upturned nose, I'd have thought we were gong in circles. Sadly, I was
The TDST, Ch.1010.The TDST, Ch.10 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The field officer gathered us up, Team Four, and gave us a patriotic spiel about the Queen and the cross-dimension crime that had been usurping her role. Once again, the facts matched with what my mysterious Interviewer had told me. The Black Crow Organization had been setting up rifts across the Spectrum, running organized crime out of a multitude of worlds.
After the address was over, our group was dismissed in a pseudo-military fashion. My teammates wandered around, seemingly unconnected particles. I too wandered, probably looking like a royal idiot as I investigated my surroundings. I pathed my way from the Interview Room to Team Four's quarters a few times. Doors that led elsewhere were locked, probably via hidden keypad, or god forbid, magical means. I knocked on pillars, poked the fountains, and looked under rugs. I tapped on doors, on the floor, discerning the make and materials of the f
The TDST, Ch.7PART II: TRANSDEMENTIAThe TDST, Ch.7 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I couldn't wait to be freed of the trauma harness. Under the flatness of my artificially created bliss, I could feel my anger and frustration building up. I doubted my emotions could burst the floodgates of the harness, but I worried that they'd break me instead. I happily acquiesced to the questioning not just because I was unable to say otherwise, but because I needed to get the hell out of there.
But I had a few questions, first.
"I've been thinking," I asked the Interviewer. "If all the hundred-whatever worlds in the Spectrum are supposed to be so different, how come all these people look human? Why are there sentient creatures at all? If watching TV has taught me anything, it's that it is a zillion to one chance our planet grew life in the first place. By those odds, most worlds should be barren, no atmospheres, let alone any life at all. But yet, he
The TDST, 2121.The TDST, 21 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
My alarm bubbled like a stream, chirped like a bird, and woke me from my slumber in a wave of ambient annoyance. A message flashed across the TDT alarm's face:
Breakfast, and then a new mission. Come now. -L
I shambled into action. In the dining lounge, I made no mention of Commando Lumiel's teary conversation. I was curious as hell, a little touched that she'd shown that side, but knew better than to take on authority. A commander has the cold guise for a reason. If shit flies to hell, us troopers need to take her orders without question. And if everyone thought her orders were opinionated with tears and sad lady moments, things could go very wrong. That and she'd probably kick my ass in front of everyone.
So, I kept my mouth happily shut as we sat in plush couches around a fountain listening to the lowdown on our next mission. The coffee here was decent, and the TDT enablers kept my hands full of pastries. I munch
I Exhale SunlightIt's dawn,I Exhale Sunlight in Free Verse More Like This
the moon and the sun passively share the same sky,
a calm spread between them, after their fight for centre stage.
Fog licks at my cheekbones,
searching for perfection beneath my flawed skin,
and hidden birds call to the indifferent stars, as they sink into the pool of early light.
and concrete coated in dew by condenstion's tongue.
like cloud kin pinned to flowers, to be spread across the Earth,
are being scattered on moth's whispering wings.
Streetlamps flicker their goodbyes,
humanity's last secrets hissed to one and other, before their flames are blown out.
Jetstreams drag sleepy fingers across the sky,
gentle wrist bones and graceful knuckles painting a vivid salmon across mauve.
A puff of white fur pounces on my shoelaces,
that weave and dance with every step.
She seems to be painted with the same shades of the thumbnail moon above our heads.
we're the same.
And I gather her into my arms.
Serenity flows between my bones, and ti
Midnight LoversIt's as if the world around them has frozen, this single moment that they're sharing, having stopped time. The moonlight, floating in through the balcony doors, has bleached the room, painting it in shades of monochrome blacks and whites. The hesitant breeze, strokes the curtain, thrown back from the open doors, the way the back of his hand is trailing her cheek.Midnight Lovers in Short Stories More Like This
Her wide eyes, like a fawn's, are staring up at him, completely vulnerable, but telling him she's giving herself to him, all in one glance. Another whispered kiss is transferred from his lips to her jaw line, as his hands trail down her body, fluid curves bared only for him.
His arm wraps its way around her waist, like the wind curling loving fingers around their nude bodies, and he lowers her to the bed. Kisses settle along her neck, as if they belong on the planes of her satin skin, and in the hollows of her collarbone. Her sweeping, dark hair, painted charcoal by the night, is fanned out beneath her head, as her cheeks blus
Innocence DreamsSkyscrapers paint the sky in flames of a receding sun.Innocence Dreams in Free Verse More Like This
Embers to ashes, as the phoenix rises and falls.
Stars blossom from the cinders,
reflections of the city lights,
a city that seems to never wake from their cold slumber.
Young lovers, big dreamers,
with backs to the Earth,
and kisses whispered to fireflies.
Dreams of the ocean,
a house that overlooks it all.
Morning love on the beach,
and bonfires under the setting moon.
Dreams of flying, dreams of horseback,
dreams of playful ghosts and baby boys.
Dreams of living,
where inspiration isn't crushed,
by the rubble of a crumbling town.
Imagination without restriction or the drone of logic.
They're both lost in a blinded crowd,
with angel wings that no one sees.
They've both got hearts that speak words capable of swaying the world.
The ones on the hill,
where nothing matters but each other,
and the murmur of the wind between the grass.
No one sees, no one hears,
as they get lost in their search for a better place.
A place where their w
A Day WithoutThe sunA Day Without in Free Verse More Like This
wrapped teasing fingers around my body
and shook me awake this morning.
Though I usually sleep in,
early morning is my favorite time of day.
When the sun is just peeking its timid head above the horizon,
eyes playing peek-a-boo with the edge of the Earth,
and its rays tickling the edges of dew drops.
It gives the whole world a soft glow,
that seems to warm your heart,
as much as the damp grass.
Trying to get out of bed quietly,
I let my bare feet hit the cool hardwood,
smooth beneath my feet,
as if welcoming me, and pulling me into the day.
An odd feeling is growing in my stomach,
and I rustle the bed a little too much.
You awake with me, now
and your smile,
nearly as dazzling as the rising sun,
lights up the room.
"Whatcha doing, my love?"
Your hair is tousled by sleep's playful hands,
and voice trying to stay as quiet as the early morning air.
My eyebrows furrow,
You prop yourself up on your elbows,
lips brushing my shoulder lov
Morning Coffee"Morning, my love." My voice is lilting, and floats on the spring-scented breeze, as I bustle around the kitchen, not bothering to turn, as you take your place at the table.Morning Coffee in Short Stories More Like This
The curtains, thrown wide to welcome the rising sun, are quivering in the gentle wind, and I glance outside, "It's warming up already, this afternoon's sure to be beautiful. Do you think we could go out and start the garden, later? It's a little early in the season, but it's bound to be a lovely day." I ask you, eyes smiling as I take in the dew-speckled grass, glittering in the early sun just beyond the window pane.
I nod to myself, "Yes, yes. I bought the seeds a week or so, ago. Evie had a sale on at her shop, you know. I got all your favorites, dear. Snapdragons, Sweet Peas, Impatiens and Schizanthus. It'll be just beautiful."
I pull my gaze from the window, and saunter over to the coffeemaker, mood lifted by the weather, and prospect of spending the day outdoors, enjoying it. As the coffee
Pricetag On LifeWeather-worn face,Pricetag On Life in Free Verse More Like This
and wrinkles carved by the hands of the clock.
Eye riddled with the knowledge that this world is one of pain.
A toothless smile, with nothing left to grin about.
His hands, clasped under his chin,
have carried many a burden,
and hunched back known too many harsh words.
It's not begging,
when he's too ashamed to meet your belittling gaze.
It's nothing but the necessity to live.
Several coins in shaky, calloused hands.
Is this any hardship for you?
It's only saving another worthy life.
But just walk by,
hold your head high.
Pretend not to see the pain in his eyes.
He stands to walk away,
and hope dragging like his feet.
Shoulders bowed against the tormenting wind,
eyes on the ground.
How dare you‽
Do you know where he'll sleep tonight, if at all?
On a park bench, cold metal digging into his spine?
Under an overpass, thundering cars rocking him to sleep, with squealing tires as his lullabies?
Or if he'll eat today,
tomorrow, or the next?
Let him slo
A Future Covered In DustI've got blood-red push pins,A Future Covered In Dust in Free Verse More Like This
on my lips,
there to hold a falsely sweet smile to my face.
And just the right shade
of boring brown paint,
to make my fatigue-ridden eyes
look capable of a shimmer.
When I seem to have a spring in my step,
it's only because I'm eager.
Eager to get away from you.
When you point out
that I look sad,
and I convince you I'm only tired,
I really just want to break down.
Fall to my knees.
But too ashamed to shed one tear.
I am tired,
Tired of being stuck here.
Tired of my four bedroom walls,
my classroom seating plan.
Sick of routine.
Sick of boredom.
Sick of you
and everyone else that surrounds me.
Because it's not this lifeless house,
in which I abide,
that I picture when I close my eyes.
Not this dreary town;
an unenthusiastic mess, splattered on the face of a map.
It's me, I see.
But not here.
Living a radically different life.
I see true happiness,
something that's become nearly extinct to me,
WantThis is the time of night when I want you the most.Want in Free Verse More Like This
It's after you've gone to sleep,
and I'm sitting here alone again.
I want to not have to worry
about anyone other than you seeing my scars
when I get up in the middle of the night.
I want you grinning playfully at me,
as I sit on the counter, feet dangling off the edge.
I want you to pick me up,
wrap my legs around you
and carry me to our bed.
I want to be able to press my lips to yours,
or just lay my head on your bare chest.
We wouldn't need to talk, nothing more tha
I amBreathe me in,I am in Free Verse More Like This
fill your lungs with my presence.
I am pain.
I am anguish.
I am suffering.
I am grief.
I am misery.
I am agony.
I am everything that you hate
about this world,
and about yourself.
And I will ever so slowly kill you;
Filling your lungs with my toxic smoke.
Or drowning you in your own tears.
Or pushing you to cut too deep the next time.
Or luring your to the cliff, the noose, the pill bottle.
You cannot escape me forever.
Even those who have never known me will.
Eventually they will be striken down by me.
Some, on the other hand,
know me well.
No One Needs To KnowThere's a thousand and one things I do that concern you.No One Needs To Know in Free Verse More Like This
No one needs to know, or care, but here are just a few.
How I'll wear just my jersey, the one with
your name on the back, to bed with me. Just so
that I can have a little piece of you holding me
as I fall asleep.
The way I'll smile when no one's looking because
your face is on my mind, and your name on my lips.
The way I'll reread our conversations of a hundred
"I love you"s.
The way I'll whisper "Goodnight, my love"
to no one but my bedroom walls.
How there's always more room and an extra pillow
in my bed, just for you.
The way I'll look at pictures of women, stomachs swollen
with another life just inside, and break into tears, wishing
it was me carrying your baby.
The daydreams I produce, all including you. Our wedding
day - you in a tux. Our first kiss, shared in the airport.
Making love in our bed. Our children's smiling faces.
How I want to lose my virginity to you. Have you be my
first, and my onl
The Visitor - Part 1It was twenty-eight minutes past seven, on the sixth day of October, and London was being rained on. Rain is not something that happens in London or over London or even around London. It happens to London, in the same way that chicken-pox happens to five-year-olds.The Visitor - Part 1 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
London with rain happening to it is a very different place to London with nice-weather-for-this-time-of-year. It's grumpier. People talk less, and they hurry everywhere, holding up briefcases and newspapers like offerings to the gods. Women in high heels perform that peculiar toes-only not-quite-running that is unique to the breed. And anyone arriving in a safe, dry haven, will say to the first human being they encounter, "It's absolutely tipping it down out there!"
On that morning (the sixth of October, seven twenty-eight) Doctor Rosemary Fortune was not performing the toes-only run, the newspaper-over-head jog, or any other undignified movement. She had come equipped with a very la
The Visitor - Part 4Colin whistled. "It's been learning."The Visitor - Part 4 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Shut up," muttered Daniel.
He was redialling the four-digit extension, keeping the phone glued to his ear. It started ringing and he looked up at the screen.
"Come on, Rosemary," he said. "Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up..."
But the doctor left the debriefing room without even a glance at the ringing phone. Daniel slammed his hand on the desk.
As the doctor headed back towards the lift, the creature tidied the unconscious soldiers over to the sides of the corridor. Rosemary didn't appear to notice them.
"At least they can't get anywhere from here," said Colin. "Fortune may be smart, but there's no way she can work out the lift code by guessing."
Daniel nodded, replacing the phone in its cradle.
"Now we just need a way to separate them," he said. "Before... You know..."
"Before the Colonel decides to smoke 'em both," Colin finished, looking over the top of his glasses.
The phone rang before Daniel could answer. Colin glanced at his la
Sticks and Stones - Part 1It was the first Saturday of the school summer holidays, and Lizzie Brooks was people-watching.Sticks and Stones - Part 1 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The spot she'd picked was the Costa Coffee Shop at Charing Cross Station. From nine in the morning onward, it had remained continuously "almost full", but with a population that changed every hour. Weekend-workers dropping in for their morning coffee gave way to bleary-eyed Friday clubbers revitalising on their way home. By midday, the tourists made up the bulk of the through-put, disposable cameras in hand and wheeled luggage (or small children) trailing behind.
Lizzie had occupied her favourite corner table as soon as the shop opened. She sat hunched, pink spiral notebook in lap, plastic cup balanced on the table edge, and straw pinched between her lips. Sucking up iced-tea like a hungry mosquito, she scribbled notes in a looping hand that wandered above and below the printed lines like a drunk spider.
Woman with hooked nose. Proper beak. Pointed shoes. Big handbag is suspicious. Probab
RiotFrank had been in his office for two hours, four minutes and thirty-three seconds when the window broke. It might have been out of sheer boredom, but Frank found the rectangular object that had been neatly thrown through the middle of it a much likelier cause.Riot in Short Stories More Like This
Knocking away shards of glass with calloused fingers, Frank picked up the object. It was a Personal Life Organiser TM: four-hundred gigabytes of fusion-state memory and enough processing power to pilot a shuttle to Jupiter. And most often used to answer emails. Modern technology really baffled Frank on occasion. On the other hand, it made a very serviceable (if expensive) projectile. So much more sophisticated than just lobbing a brick.
Hoping for the worst, Frank crunched over the remains of the window pane and peered over the aluminium sill. This wasn't because he was kneeling. Even in police-issue patrol trousers with the new reinforced kneecaps, that wouldn't have seemed like a good plan. No, Frank was resorting to peering be
The Visitor - Part 2The door opened with a Star Trek swish. Rosemary looked to Colonel Grant once for confirmation, then walked through it. The corridor beyond was identical to that outside; hard-wearing grey carpet and off-white walls with a second door at the end. A camera mounted over it swivelled in her direction as she approached. She gave it a wiggle of her fingers by way of a wave.The Visitor - Part 2 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A swish and snap indicted that the door behind her had closed. After a moment's pause, the one in front of her opened. It was an interview room, she decided as she entered. There were three bare walls painted the colour of damp cement, and a single mirrored one (with no visible cameras). Furniture comprised of a folding table and two plastic chairs, one of them occupied.
The man wore faded blue jeans, a clean white t-shirt and an expression of bubbling amusement. He was leaning back in the chair, two legs off the ground like a schoolboy, and smudged running shoes resting on the table top. As Rosemary entered, he swung hi
Sticks and Stones - Part 7After the door closed behind Lizzie and Brody, Stheno laughed again. "Still lying to women, I see."Sticks and Stones - Part 7 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I shrugged. "It's a difficult habit to break."
She snapped her fingers. I had just enough time to take a breath before I was grabbed by my coat, dragged a few feet away from the wall and forced to my knees. The grabbers both smelt human, with starched collars and fresh polish on their shoes. They applied a restraining weight to each of my shoulders and locked my arms behind my back while another human - the owner of the Armani aftershave - hovered next to me. Mr Armani was chewing peppermint gum as he cracked each of his knuckles in turn. I didn't need his scent to know he was young; only real greenbloods resorted to clichés.
"Now," said Stheno. "I'm going to ask you some questions. And every time you give me an answer I don't like, this is going to happen."
On a signal I couldn't see, Mr Armani socked me across the jaw. It was a good hit - I could feel his signet ring a
Bullet When I was a kid, I wanted to be Superman.Bullet in Short Stories More Like This
They said he was faster than a speeding bullet. Not just any old bullet, moseying home after a long day at the office. A speeding one, tearing up the atmosphere like nothing in the world could stop it. I wanted to punch through the sound barrier and carry on and on, away from everything.
I started running a year after my mom died. I was nine years old, but already fast enough to beat my army dad to the corner of the street. There was a local cop with a big brewster moustache who was always dragging me back home. I forget his name. His sedan could run faster than my legs, and his hand was quick enough to grab my collar. When he was still fetching me back two years later, he stopped by to have a word with my dad.
"He's pretty quick on those legs of his," he said. "You thought about getting him to do sports? Might burn up some energy
An Easy DecisionThere were still eight ghouls left when Jack reached his last bullet. Spine pressed to the crumbling plasterwork, he ran his eyes over the stolen faces of his squad-mates, then put the gun to his head.An Easy Decision in Short Stories More Like This
WingsBy four in the morning, City Airport was beginning to resemble a refugee camp. The would-be travellers had long ago run out of fuel for their anger and accusations, and now only a noise like a distant waterfall filled the skeleton rafters - the sound of hundreds of people breathing softly in sleep. They lay bundled in coats, huddled against soft cases, and draped over airport furniture. Some still had pouts and scowls etched into the lines of their face, but most slept placidly - like worn out dogs or the sort of babies that only exist in TV adverts - dreaming of postcard beaches and over-decorated cocktails.Wings in Short Stories More Like This
Standing in the way of such dreams was a monstrous screen. Six metres of glossy black from corner to corner, it hung like an axe over the heads of the sleepers. On its laughing face were rows of yellow lettering, each finishing with the same gleeful word. As the plastic clock hands on the far wall moved to ten-past four, a chime sounded from the lofty public address system, and a
The Visitor - Part 5Colin sat in the Observation Room, drumming his fingers on the edge of his laptop while he watched the screens. On one of them, Daniel was in the process of being thrown off his feet and sent sprawling on the beige carpet. The scientist sat up as if powered by springs, his arms thrashing at empty air. But the creature just passed over him, walking along the ceiling with its rhythmless gait. It stuttered away from the lift and around the corner, feet seemingly struggling for grip against the weight it was carrying.The Visitor - Part 5 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"So awkward," Colin muttered. "But so precise."
Daniel meanwhile, was still slumped on the carpet. He kept staring at the doctor's dropped bag, chest rising and falling in jerks. Shaking his head, Colin returned his gaze to his laptop screen. There was a single line of text on it, the cursor blinking in expectation.
EV1 has escaped. I need new orders.
He glanced back at the video feeds spread across the wall, fingers still beating a rhythm on the metal case. The cre
letters to me.dear five-year-old-me,letters to me. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i hope you know that life is a gift. i hope that when you walk out on the back patio and see the hills and the deer and the creek you know that life is marvelous. i wish for you to run through the mud and roll around with your dog and climb up trees with bleeding knees. i hope for nothing more than for you to swing until your legs are tired from pumping and your hair is snarled in knots around your face.
and listen to me: i know it isnt always easy. i know that you cant eat american cheese because you were born with high-cholesterol, i know you have to share your room and your sister broke your favorite doll. and i know it hurts when they sell your horse, when your dog dies, when you move away from everything youve ever known.
but youre five, you're resilient.
life will continue to bless you.
i hope you know that you are beautiful. i hope that when you look in the mirror you dont lament over round c
i trust you to know.if i could crack my ribs apart at the sternum, id let you dip your fingers beneath the bleached bones.i trust you to know. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
there isnt anyone else id trust enough to not be impatient. there isnt anyone else id trust to not simply cut through the brittle, snarled vines encasing my heart. but i trust you. i trust you to see that the vines need to be unwound layer by layer. i trust you to see that to cut to the quick would only bleed me out. i trust you to know that i cant bear to stain the carpet yet again.
i trust you to see that the thorns are embedded deep, the insecurities tangled with the nervous laughs, that im biting my lip to keep it from trembling, that my palms are bird wings fluttering around my throat to keep the oxygen flowing.
i trust you to see.
and if i balk, if i run terrified back into the thicket, i trust you to follow me quietly, not burying a bullet in my flank, but luring me out with open hands and gentle eyes.
oh, because cant you see? i&
i'm the girl.you want to know who i am?i'm the girl. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i am the girl falling asleep headfirst on top of the covers to the clackclackclacking of the rain against the windowpane. i am dreaming in tarnished poetry and rotting hopes, birdbone-wrists locking together, fingers plucking the strings along guitar-ribs. i am loving myself even as i pull apart wishbone-veins, stringing myself out across the carpet to pick out the parts i like best.
and i am the girl wandering the aisles of the book store. i am curling in corners with hemmingway, touching the pages like a lover, smelling the ink because im the girl who thinks books smell like faith. im tucking myself between each syllable, climbing down the commas and resting on the vowels. i am sticking my post-it-note-wishes over the adjectives, waiting for the words to bleed through the page and stain the backside of my skin.
and i am the girl holding her elbows when watching the ocean. i am pulling the stitches closed and wincing against the saltwater on my s
i never liked life until.i never liked numbers until i watched you do math.i never liked life until. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
and somehow between the derivatives and the way you made the calculations dance, i fell in love with the logical precision of how they added up, the poetry you weaved on graphs with a pencil behind your ear and a slow smile curling your lips. and when i sat on your lap, counted the kisses, multiplied the desire, divided the distance and subtracted the inhibitions, i decided i might be mathematically inclined after all.
i never liked roller coasters until you took me on one.
and somehow between the buckling down and the gripping your hand as the car shook forward, i fell in love with the stomach-dropping, jaw-aching beauty of letting go and finding yourself flying instead of falling. and when i looked over and saw your grin stretching your face and your quick laugh getting stolen by the wind, i decided that i might like losing control and free-falling after all.
i never liked the rain until you danced with me in it.
and somehow betw
i'm sorry.i am sorry if i am not what you expected.i'm sorry. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i am sorry if i am not slender or cunning or sticking to the schedule or falling into the precision of appointments and the rules of poetry. i am sorry if i am wringing my fingers dry and running out of paper and bleeding ink through my eyelids. i am sorry if i am butchering words and stitching their bleeding pieces into something i can lie and call beautiful. i am sorry that i cant stick to your grammar, your syntax, your expectations, your rules. i am sorry, i tried.
i cant help that i am running barefoot through the grocery store because i forgot my shoes or that i am driving through the fast food drive-through without buying a thing because it at least feels like im driving somewhere. i cant help that i am forgetting to bring you home your medication and sleeping with my back against the grass and tying your requests together to knit a scarf to choke myself with. i cant help it.
i wish i was different. i wish i
can't promise what you want.i think we can make this work.can't promise what you want. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i think we can too.
but you have to promise me something.
promise me youll never leave the hand soap empty. promise me that when you see the faucet accidently leaking on the counter, youll take a towel and mop it up instead of just shrugging and walking away. promise me you wont leave your jeans rumpled in the hall because they didnt make it all the way into the room.
i cant lie, i cant promise that. but i will promise to never leave your hands empty. i will promise that when your bad day has leaked all over your cheeks, ill take my lips and wipe it away. and i promise that ill never leave your feelings rumpled outside a locked bedroom door.
i can compromise with that.
and can you promise me something?
ill certainly try.
promise me you wont drag me into some
good thing we're fools.I think I might love you.good thing we're fools. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I think thats a stupid thing to say, why would you say something like that?
Because when you look at me my toes curl and my stomach flutters.
Is that a quote from a book?
No. I dont think so. I dont know. It all gets a little mixed up sometimes.
So you love me like they love in books.
Question or statement?
Question, then. And, yes. I love you like Scarlett loves Rhett, like Elizabeth loves Mr. Darcy, like-
Stop, just stop. Dont love me like that. What happens after the last page?
We continue on loving like happily-ever-forever.
No, wed drop off, we'd end. Love isnt static, it doesnt continue in a flat line. Who can carry the same tune for years? We rise, we fall, we bump arms and step on each others toes. Ill annoy you because I cant stand going to Chr
hearts are for rebuilding_ci.hearts are for rebuilding_c in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
when i remember you, i remember the way you laughed when i mixed up teaspoons and tablespoons.
i remember the way you refused to eat the cake because you said it was too salty and the way i stood crying over the sink when i shoved it down the disposal. i remember how you left me standing in the middle of the floured, sugared, baked-on-mess kitchen to finish the tivo-game, patting me on the back and saying nice try.
it was when i was wiping my tears with the back of my hand that i best remember holding my heart close, telling it nice try. maybe next time wed fall in love with someone who saw us when they looked, who cared about stomping all over the most vulnerable of spots.
when i remember you, i remember crashing out of love.
i know it was bittersweet, but i cant remember anything but the burn.
and now i am thinking maybe the cake was too salty. maybe my hands shook when i was making it because you were standing behind me, your laureate finge
write me a story.If you ask, Ill spin you gossamer-words into the horizon.write me a story. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Sit next to me and listen to the water gurgle, listen to the creek singing hymns along the bank, the wind humming around us as dusk begins to fall. Sit next to me and rest your eyes, lay down for a moment and let me find words to tuck around you like a blanket. Let me slip into your bloodstream and warm you from the inside out, smoothing the aches and chills out.
Hush, close your lips, let me find your story.
Dont stir when the nightingales begin to call, just relax your muscles one by one. Let my voice burn away the fever and try to find strength in the quiet. I know you are weary, but you dont have to walk much longer. I have a place for you, so stop a minute, put down the weight and breathe. Breathe in the remnants of the night, breathe until your spine is melting and the tension is gone. Breathe until the world has dissolved and all that is left is your pulse enfolding you.
Ill search all night long t
Secretly TogetherBehind closed doors we fall in each other's arms,Secretly Together in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Like finding consolation in trust of our dreams.
But only in evenings,
When all the thorns have been shed away.
And comes the steady glow of the moon reflecting in your eyes,
The steady warmth I can feel glowing from your skin.
However when you blink,
The world seems to waver at its brink of life.
Still nothing seems close to describing this moment of us together,
Just another of the many we will probably forget.
But like the millions of love stories left unread,
It's as beautiful as any love could be tonight.
A Complete DistractionA Complete Distraction in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I was upset when you kissed me,
And suddenly I couldn't remember why.
It was like nothing else mattered,
Nothing but this feeling in its place.
I sometimes reread all the love notes you gave me when I feel this way,
Count all the times you could've missed me.
Day dream of all the times I dreamed about you,
And I've never dreamed about anyone as much as you.
So sometime I want to touch you in a small way every time I see you during the day,
Just to tease you, and know you'll think of me all the same.
But for now I only wish to savor your lips,
And this feeling surging unexpectedly from my chest.
Lingering ThoughtsI wonder if you could be happy without me,Lingering Thoughts in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
If you could do being without me.
Whether you'll still laugh as beautifully,
With that small smile lingering all day long unconsciously.
I really don't think I can do all that without you.
And even if I could come to love again.
It would never again feel as easy as breathing,
Like having a heart just a little smaller than being complete.
Maybe I'm just wondering how important I am to you,
How true your beautiful words are,
How I know with such a certainty,
That you are the reason for all my lingering smiles.
Such a Beautiful ThingI expected your kiss,Such a Beautiful Thing in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Just not the flare of this craving in return,
Wanting more of the soft sensations of your lips.
And never did I expect you to taste so good,
As if nothing else seemed to exist for a moment but you,
The love I can feel in you and the denial that I couldn't possibly love you more.
And your whispers unexpectedly made me think of scented oil,
Leaving me day dreaming of caressing you,
And realizing it's how your voice always makes me feel.
Because I Need YouI learned to forgive when I heard you sang in your lovely voice,Because I Need You in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Leaving behind feelings of an undying want in me like the way you said I told you so.
And it was in high school when you first gave me that look,
Forever sealing my belief in the absolute beauty of a real smile.
I still remember the way you cried with your heart years later in sweet love,
And I wondered if you knew that I cared about you beyond your wildest dreams.
A fragile moment of eternity incomplete,
When a touch is all we need to know and understand each other so well.
It was thanksgiving when I woke up to rippling translucent waves of the ocean nearby,
A warm glow and your hands slowly feeling mine.
I thanked that time is the measurement of all that is of true value,
And wished it wasn't just another dream of an infinity complete.
The Only OneSome people said my words are fake because they sound so beautiful,The Only One in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
That it is always a good prudence to feel that things feel too good to be true.
People are not supposed to care, to see beauty in the plainest of things.
It's just like beliefs are not supposed to be true and there's no such thing as true love too.
Still I continued to write out all the beautiful things I know,
Trust in love that feels too good to be true,
Care for people I should never have cared for,
And never once looked to you.
But now you are the only one I speak to,
The only one who's heard all my ugly stories of love,
The only one who have always seen through my poems,
The only one in my life I feel may be too good to be true.
Because I Miss YouI fell asleep last night with your letters by my side.Because I Miss You in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
There must have been a hundred pages,
Scented with the love I've been dreaming of every day.
So it is true that I read all of them before sleep sometimes,
Just once in a little while,
Slowly like the way I long to caress your lips.
And the softness of your touch haunts my every dream,
Like this longing I have of you,
Burning ever so precariously in this moment of my heart.
I love you tooI hate hanging up on you after the way you say "I love you."I love you too in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Somehow totally pronouncing the period while simply saying "I love you".
It's one of the constant feelings I have with you,
Leaving me mindlessly craving for more.
I love how your voice strikes my inner sides,
But not how it happens to take over my mind.
And it never seems to strike alone because of my love for you,
A love I risk to trust in all the beautiful lies.
So I try to savor your words in my mind,
The way your voice holds my heart away,
The river of longing lit by your smile,
Every moment of what we have.
I love you.I wondered if you could hear my heart in your sleep,I love you. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Recognize the smell of my skin in your dreams,
Touch my lips when you wake up,
And whisper in my ears while I sleep.
I pondered all that as you fell asleep to my heartbeat,
Breathing softly on my chest with one of your hands still feeling me.
And when I wake up it was your lips,
Or maybe it's all just a dream.
But when I declared "I love you",
I could feel your lips at my ear,
Whispering the sweet melody,
Of everything I ever wanted to hear.
Because I Love YouLeaving you breathless is worth savoring,Because I Love You in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Like giving you pleasure and watching you drowning in lack of memory.
So I find myself sick knowing you have to go,
Feels like forever before I can even hear your voice again.
I think I'm scared of losing you,
Or simply not seeing you every day.
Not being able to hold you at night,
Not hearing your voice all the time.
I don't think I have ever anticipated a moment so long,
For a time without your wonderful love in my life.
I don't think I can keep myself from craving you either,
Just like the predictable moments before we kiss again tonight.
You call it Judgement, We call it SinEmily needs the words to understand that she isn't being unreasonable. She just wants them to mean something and not be a string of words which flows into itself over and over again.You call it Judgement, We call it Sin in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She doesn't like her name either. Not because Emily isn't a pretty name but because she would rather be called something she feels like. (She has never quite forgiven her parents for choosing her name for her.) If she could, she would call herself Glass, because that is what she wakes up feeling like every morning. As if crystallised pieces of glass are edible and her insides tingle as she swallows them whole.
Emily lets the words call her names sometimes. She writes them on her knees so that she can remember them. Sometimes the words call her a whore, and sometimes stupid, and sometimes a loser and sometimes a tramp (She has never learnt that loving too much is a crime and boys with pretty eyes sometimes lie.). She sits in the bathroom with a pen the colour of blood and writes them carefully
Online"I have a problem."Online in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"You always were a worrier."
"Don't you want to know what it is?"
"Not if it's going to worry me as well."
"That's precisely why you should know it."
"I really think I'll pass."
"But this time it's a really big deal."
"Oh for the love of- All right. All right. You win. What is it?"
"What did you think the first time you met me?"
"That's not a problem, that's a question."
"How am I supposed to answer it exactly?"
"I don't know if your mother explained this to you, but all you have to do is open your mouth and words-"
"Shut it, smart ass."
"Then answer the question."
"I thought you were beautiful."
"See, now that's impossible."
"And why is that?"
"Because the first time you met me, it was online."
"It wasn't your face I was calling beautiful. It was your anonymity in your words."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that in the vast abyss of the seas that form a web of people, you were the one who sat alone in a life broke
Hemingway Would Hate ThisThe trouble with the Boy was that he didn't have the heart of Shakespeare, the voice of Poe, nor the soul of Wordsworth, nor the knowledge of Rembrandt in his darkest days. He didn't have a trace of Michaelangelo's spirit nor the angst of Carvaggio and this on its own was enough to dissuade him from understanding that technique was far better than solidarity and possession far more ageless than youth.Hemingway Would Hate This in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He didn't have any of this knowledge because his father hadn't had the courage to tell him that he needed all the qualities of these great men, to win over the heart of a woman who had the dreams of Austen, the ideas of Da Vinci and the scent of a high priestess of Venetian origin.
The Girl was all those things and more, and her value, her estimate in the market of souls was higher than most. She was an angel amongst Gods, and He should never have let her go into the world thinking that it was Keats hearted. Because like all women who live their lives story shaped, she was soon broken by
Never AgainThe rain boy had sworn that he would never again smile. His eyes always soaked the oceans with tears from his past and his heart was always dark and locked to anyone who could try and help him. His world had become so bleak and dark, that he stood in rooms of people that were a blur past him and a guitar that just no longer played.Never Again in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
So when the sunshine girl met the rain boy, for a second, the world stood still. In that tiny little balcony, where there was only space for two, the sunshine girl asked the rain boy, "When was the last time you smiled?"
The rain boy was startled for a second at someone talking to him, but he answered anyway, "I think it was ten years ago."
"Is that because someone broke your heart?"
"It is because more than one person broke my heart."
"Oh." She paused for a moment, but looked up again, her eyes dancing like star like diamonds "Well, just because someone broke your heart, it doesn't mean that they should become the hero of your story."
A History of ImaginariumWhen we were young, we believed. In myths, in legends, in stories beyond the wildest imagination of the best story teller in the world. Tomorrow always held surprises, new stories, and new worlds for our imaginations to explore. Everything began with 'Once upon a time' and ended with 'Happily ever after.' We lived in a land where we all owned pet tyrannosaurus rexes, maybe a few dragons, a sword that rivaled Excalibur and faeries and pixies, who just happened to make great playmates. Fae food for some reason always seemed to be so much better than your average meal, and who needs an adult to talk sense to, when you could have a talking lion?A History of Imaginarium in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
But time passed us by. And things changed. We grew up, much to Peter Pan's dismay. And things became what they would never become if we believed. Things became boring.
Reading became insipidly real, about average people with average lives. And what was worse, we enjoyed that much more that the fantastical tales that our imagination wa
Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,Crayon Soulmates in Free Verse More Like This
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing their mother's cigarettes and their father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was not supposed to have such dreams.).
He had hair as ebony as deep onyx and a smile that never grew up (Peter Pan would have been proud). He was magic in soul form, and smelled like cinnamon and the earth after it has rained. His eyes rivaled a lions on the best of his youth, his words were story shaped. His skin was an ink coloured canvas of wonder and even in crayon
LoveIt's the song on the radio that reminds you of what you had and what you lost.Love in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's the smile that a baby gives when she is genuinely happy.
It's the sound of a laugh from someone who hasn't laughed in a long, long time.
It's the friend who still remembers you even if you call after fifteen years.
It's the last piece of chocolate saved for you in a box you thought was empty.
It's the gift that is exactly what you needed, when you needed it.
It's the two hour ride across town, just so she can see you before she leaves.
It's the dog who waits for you to come home, just to give you all the affection in the world.
It's the companionship one feels in silence when they have found their best friend.
It's the feeling of a warm blanket someone put on you after you fell asleep.
It's the boy who does the stupidest things in the world, just to see you laugh.
It's the girl who kisses you the way she has never ever kissed anyone before.
It's the woman who gives up her seat on the train to the old la
A Snowfall CandlelitMy version of winter has always been flawed. It is controlled by the fall of snow and the exact amount of the ground it covers. It never ever covers the tiny little patch in the garden, right near the broken tin roofed shed. I suppose that is why I just like the idea of snow. But I do not love it.A Snowfall Candlelit in Free Verse More Like This
(Realisation: I suppose that little corner represents the only part of me that even I cannot love.)
I met a man with candle lit wolf eyes and a strong, warm lion heart, who tells me Sea God stories before disappearing into a cold, cold winter's morning, fog cloaking his very essence.
(Addendum: Sometimes I think of five a.m. coffee, and wonder if your smile didn't hold all of winter's warmth in it, whether I would still be liking the idea of it.)
He lights candles and turns my room into a place of sanctity and prayer often. It makes the love making ironic in a way, I suppose. But nothing he ever does fails to intrigue the very fabric that my cotton soul is made of.
ObsessionIt takes 14 minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day. Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door. I never fail to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes anymore.Obsession in Emotional More Like This
You leave your door open an exact two point three centimeters. I don't think you do it on purpose. There is something wrong with the wood that has left it that way. I pause one foot outside the door and listen to you cough, trying to determine how sick you feel today. I hate that every time I think you are particularly ill, I am always right.
Six months, seventeen days and fourteen hours. That is how long its been since the doctors told us you had an illness. I sat there with your parents, listening to a man who said words like 'terminal' and 'leukemia', and counted the number of times he said 'patient' as if it were your name (Seventeen).
The blood bank says one unit is four hundred and fifty milliliters and I watch as they put the needle into my ar
TearsShe was the girl with eyes of burnt amber. But her eyes weren't always that way. It came from hiding a truth so harsh that her beautiful eyes had turned dark. She swore she could never fall in love.Tears in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He was the boy with a face shaped like a broken heart. But his face wasn't always that way either. It came from caring so much about someone that his heart was scratched in cruel, manicured fingers, mangled beyond belief. He swore he would never love again.
They met in a spinal corridor. Then in a courtyard. Then in a room which had a broken window. And finally in a doorway that was too small. And she was crying.
Diamond tears from burnt amber eyes. Diamond tears that fell, uncared for, onto the ground.
He finally had to reach out and stop one diamond from hitting the floor. She looked up at him, surprised, almost angry. But before she could speak, his voice, wine rich, half broken like a damaged violin spoke. "Don't waste your tears where no one can see them."
"They mean nothing."