Second Impressions"Professor Bradley?"Second Impressions in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He turned from the copier to respond to the voice behind him. One of the girls from his Literature class stood half in the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other gripping the satchel slung over her shoulder.
"How can I help you, Miss... Fanshaw was it?"
"Yes. I had a question about our first assignment if you don't mind?"
He caught the question in her tone. A shy one, then. He tended to be rather fond of his quieter students they didn't make waves and turned everything in on time. They made up for the boisterous ones.
"Ask away I always have time for my students." He pulled the stack of sheets from the tray and tucked them into a manila folder as he spoke.
"Ah, well, you said it's due on the 23rd, but we don't have class on that day? Did you mean the 22nd or 24th?"
"Always assume the earlier date Miss Fanshaw. Just for future reference, I'm rather terrible with remembering the date. But I probably meant Friday in this case."
"Just wanted to be sure
FFM2012 - Day 19The sun shone through the tinted window, its light quality changed from a harsh brightness to something softer, gentle, as I read the footnote next to the word "homely" - "in the old sense: simple and friendly." And something shifted. Something clicked. Where I had been waiting for class to end so I could get back to games, I have a sudden longing for an empty green field surrounded by pine trees. Something simple and friendly.FFM2012 - Day 19 in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The light cast on the thin pages brings forth their transparency. I can see the faint imprints of black text, reversed and unreversed in either direction. They feel warm, full of life and wisdom.
55 Word Stories - Part One1. Roulette55 Word Stories - Part One in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Logic dictated that he had to die eventually. By bullet or bullet train, he didn't care. And end was an end.
He's heard of this condition before Quantum Immortality. One multiverse incarnate that would live forever. Him. It was just his luck that he would be saddled with eternity.
He sighed and reloaded the gun.
2. The Chase
There is no scientific name for the delay between lightning and thunder. The light flashes across the empty fields of gold followed by the crash of sound racing to keep up, to catch its always faster partner. The thunder never quite reaches its elusive lover.
I guess what I'm trying to say is come back.
Roy G. Biv hated his name. He was not, nor had he ever been, a colorful man. His gray eyes were the same shade as the gray suit he wore to hide the gray hair that fell out and stuck to his jacket.
The gray clouds gathered overhead as he pulled out a gray umbrella.
PeriwinklePeriwinklePeriwinkle in Free Verse More Like This
is a patch of open sky,
a gingham plaid skirt,
the slate of your eyes.
It chimes tiny bells when you speak
and startles birds into flight and runs
thick like heavy syrup
on cottony pancakes
that taste lighter than air
and leave my mouth dry,
for a flash of pale blue in summer.
The Watchmaker's LoverYour clockwork appendagesThe Watchmaker's Lover in Free Verse More Like This
were cold to the touch.
The industrial complex of your mind
was grating gear against gear
where the unoiled
works kept clacking away; your atrium
was a tick-tocking machine
that counted the hours while the rust settled in.
The mainspring spiraled round
your mechanical heart tensed
so tightly it showed in your face,
in your quivering hands,
your troubled eyes;
the unlubricated escapement never released,
oxidized into place
from ages of neglect.
The joints of your fingers corroded
with arthritis and green rust
curled around curls
of ebauched neophytes uncalibrated
to your pendulum swing.
Your flinted eyes filed flaws away,
groomed for the fluxing process.
Oscillating gears locked into place,
before your backlash recoil
forced the dual mechanism apart
with shallow breaths emerging from beneath
until dawn glances from the window
and your mainspring rewinds itself,
awaiting the next night uncoiled.
RoadmapsI have traced my fingers along,Roadmaps in Free Verse More Like This
following undulating roads
on faded parchment maps but
there is no X
to mark the spot
where you should be.
I have pushed my way past
half-lit tunnels of willow
leaves, tread over mossy rocks
and overturned each one,
searching for clues, arrows.
I have mapped the stars and
their trails that I might
never be lost - but I am wandering
all the same without
I have studied each roadsign;
followed each one
to its dead end
and U-turned back
to where I started.
I have traced my
over and over,
searching for the place
where I lost my way,
but there is no path back
RegulationsThe new neighbors caused a bit of a stir when they moved in. Ms. Sharp, the HOA lady, was in a right snit over the whole affair. I heard her seething to Mr. Thomas during the summer barbecue.Regulations in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Constance, there's nothing in the regulations about zombies. Legally, we can't fine them over what they are."
The LibraryThey had crossed paths that afternoon, she as she entered the library and he as he was on the way out. The sight of him brought one of the many problems straight to the forefront of her mind.The Library in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He had already noticed her, but waved a hand in acknowledgement as they drew near each other and paused next to one of the low shelves showcasing the new releases.
"How's it going?" He looked like he was in a good mood. Not that Autumn had ever seen him in a bad one, but he seemed to be happy about something. She drew a breath.
"Ah, rather hectic actually. In fact, I was hoping I could ask you something?"
"On the paper," she fought the urge to fidget with her hair. "I'm kinda running behind and wondered if I could turn it in a day late? Or if I could just e-mail it to you instead? I don't need much time, just a little," she absent-mindedly detangled her fingers from her hair.
"That perfectly fine. I'll have to knock off a few points, but that hardly matters to my bette
Stripes Are So Last Season"Where's Waldo?"Stripes Are So Last Season in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
SalmonSalmonSalmon in Free Verse More Like This
like dawn light shining
on pale roses
crept across her face
at the silent laughter
chittering like birds
from a distant room.
The sweet, mellow taste left,
replaced by ashen coals
creeping along her spine
like paresthesia and silver
fish nipping her ankles
leaving no trace.
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: City of Paper HeartsHe built a paper city. Strewn across the floor of his apartment in a tangle of smudged streets and tiny folded corner shops with white paper windows. The electric bulb hanging bare from the low slung ceiling became an imaginary sun, each breath of air from the open window a tragic imitation of life that sent the city rustling, moving, tumbling only to settle once more into stillness as the window lock slid shut.FFM: City of Paper Hearts in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He made and imitation of humanity. Small forms to tumble to and fro and stare into the paper windows with wistful longing where he; too large and clumsy, could not, and scribbled distant words across the rooftops and empty spaces, Interesting words picked at random from the nearest book, as though they could in turn impart some sense of movement and meaning to the scattered forms that had taken up his life.
After a time, he gave them lives, created in them everything he could not see himself. A minuscule experiment, perfect copy of a larger world waiting for him just outside. H
FFM: Fear of FurLittle Red Riding Hood sat in the corner of the room with a lit cigarette and smile as she tapped her spiky heels against the linoleum floor. She was wearing her coat of course; the big musty one that still stank of wolf and liked to shed all over the furniture. It had been her first, so naturally the quality wasn't as good as her later products, but it was still an iconic image in the world of supernatural furriers.FFM: Fear of Fur in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
In the other corner of the room sat Jonathan, though perhaps sitting wasn't the right term. It was more of a fetal curl that had somehow been squeezed into the narrow confines of a plastic hospital chair. Really quite impressive, but then Little Red had worn the coat, and the stink of the fur had to be getting to him. It seemed a particularly vindictive move on her part considering her husband's Doraphobia.
The Counsellor had never figured out exactly how the two had hitched up, but then, stranger things had happened, and millionaire Furrier's were allowed to have eccentri
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: Day 21 ChallengeThere had been six levels to the circus this far, and now at last Charlie had reached the heart. He clasped the final ticket that had been given to him by the Harlequin at the door, and slipped through the black velvet curtains that closed off the entrance.FFM: Day 21 Challenge in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were no further guards, at this point there was no need. Instead what lay before him was a corridor lined with windows, each looking out upon a different scene, each window reflecting out onto another part of the show.
For a moment all he could do was stand there, terrified beyond all thought or reason by what he might be about to see, his nails digging into the palms of his hands and his teeth set on edge. Then the moment passed, and he took the first step forward to see what waited for him in the darkness there.
In the first window sat the fortune teller, bound by her dark and glittering chains in the low, smoky light of her abode, her cheeks wet with salty tears as one by one she lay the tarot cards out upon the
FFM: Sympathy for the DevilRed light spilled from the windows and splashed wetly across the street. A bit Tartarean for his tastes.FFM: Sympathy for the Devil in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Mephisto wiped bits of the previous owner from the invitation and handed it to the doorman; his expression all teeth.
The Dante Club, they called it.
It wasn't home; naturally. But he'd heard the entertainment was excellent.
FFM: Day 6The Troll seemed sad and small, huddled as he was beneath the remains of his old home, hardly a bridge anymore, in fact more of a ruin. "I'm lonely Michael, please stay a little longer. I am so afraid of the dark."FFM: Day 6 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There was little he could do but agree when the Troll put it like that. After all, he knew what it was like to feel all alone. So he took one of the Troll's big weathered hands in his own, sat down beside him and started a story, though he was careful to avoid any mention of goats.
FFM: Here comes trouble"Don't." Vera said dryly. "It will end badly, it always does."FFM: Here comes trouble in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Dwight chewed a bit, then spat the tobacco out onto the side of the road.
"This time it will be different. We almost had 'em last time. Bit of fine tuning and we'll be riding off into the sunset with the reward, just you wait and see."
He adjusted his hat, clicked his heels and set the horse clanking up the hill towards the frontier town. Little more than a hole in the road really, but they had a reward out, looking for someone with the skills to do a particular kind of job. Dwight was many things, but competent was not one of them, at least, not when he set his mind to it. After 35 years of miserable failures, he had accidentally doing things down to a fine art. He figured it was just a matter of aiming for the opposite of what you wanted. It hadn't worked so far, but Dwight was nothing if not an optimist.
Vera shook her head at his retreating back and set to following, her small feet bare and dusty from all the walking. T
FFM: Schrodinger's catThe cat wasn't alive, strictly speaking. Daniel knew this, as he had put it in the box several hours before. The experiment was meant to be unpredictable but Daniel had to start work at 5, so he'd hurried things along a little.FFM: Schrodinger's cat in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
His girlfriend wasn't going to be happy, as it was her cat. The beast and him had never been friendly. But he figured since it was in the pursuit of science and part of his class thesis, he might be able to get away with it.
After all, until he opened the box it wasn't strictly dead either.
FFM: Day 26He was painted before the feast. Skin turned black, eyes too white, his smile turned ferocious by the contrast. They were allowed only plain garb, loose and dark, the leather sandals and the spear; heavy and silver tipped.FFM: Day 26 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They gathered in the antechamber and ate the ceremonial meal. The rites were observed, the anointed oils placed upon their brows, the burning incense and ritual horns. They were given no ball of string. This was not a labyrinth from which one could escape.
It was a glory to be chosen. Their families would be honored, blessed by the holy priests and given succor for their children's sacrifice. Only the best, the brightest and most beautiful of their youth could hope to be worthy of the challenge.
As the gates swung open for the first time in 7 years, he felt only the expectant hush, the deep star-quiet of the alien structure, full of twisting passageways. He did not know what lay within. There were only stories, unreliable, for those who entered did not win free again
Loki Sequel 23I came around far too slowly. My will was sluggish and I could not muster it to clear away the last of the haze that threatened to push my mind back into oblivion. This should not be. I could not sense Kingfisher's will the god had honored his word and pulled me out of the simulation, nothing more. There should be nothing impeding me now. I fought with my first instinct to fight towards consciousness, to feel my physical body move and to open my eyes. Something was wrong here. I listened instead, hearing the beat of my heart and feeling the hard metal of the floor beneath my back. There was a soft hum of voices and I heard a handful of words stand out above the rest, sharp and harsh. Kingfisher. He was angry furious and I was suddenly afraid.Loki Sequel 23 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Someone spoke, close by where I lay. I felt hands on either arm and then they pulled and I was brought to my feet. I opened my eyes, catching my balance between them, and was alarmed at the pressure I felt holding my will down
Nightmare GodsMortals were dying. This alone was not something unusual, for that was the nature of mortality. The manner in which they were dying, however, either meant that there was more to this world that we did not understand, or that a god was involved. The first died in fire, collapsing on the steps of the temple while bystanders looked on in horror, too shocked by the conflagration to do anything. By the time one recovered his wits enough to act, it was too late and there nothing but ash left behind. The second one simply died in the middle of a crowded room, after the lights vanished. The witnesses said that it was as if the darkness had taken form, a weight on the chest that blinded each of them and left them starving for light and air. The victim's chest was crushed, like a hand had gripped it tight from the inside of his body. There had been no power fluctuation, no faulty wiring - no reason for the blNightmare Gods in Short Stories More Like This
The Pennsic StoneI wasn't quite certain what took my breath away more: the immense scale of the pavilion-walled city or the hike from our camp to this transient city's heart. Perhaps one contributed to the other, for the geography of the land demanded that this city spring up from the ground in bits and pieces, winding through the woods and around the lake. I learned the landmarks within a few days. There was the vast field that sported tidy rows of camps, each walled off from the other with varying degrees of flair; from the simple hanging cloth to the wooden palisades dotted with banners and heraldry. Even with my formidable imagination I could not comprehend what this field had looked like just a scant week earlier. The sun baked the earth to dust-sown rock so that not even the grind of countless wagon wheels could form ruts in the roads. Further on the forest started, brilliant green like emeralds, the shade beneath its branches cool and welcome. I could hardly call it peaceful, however. Tents nestThe Pennsic Stone in Short Stories More Like This
Loki Sequel 17We left him intact and unbound, save for his will. That I held fast. He would lead us to the goddess. It had not taken long, not with two gods working together. Tariro was a fairly simple creature I knew this now, for we had stripped away him away layer by layer, putting all that he was out for us to examine. His thoughts, ambitions, and most importantly his knowledge. He had been prepared for the role of scion from childhood, the most promising of the batch of potential recruits, hand-selected by the previous scion that was reaching the end of his long lifespan. He had known nothing else but his duty and his role when his time came to assume the mantle of power.Loki Sequel 17 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It was not enough to keep me from hating him.
I collapsed as soon as we were done, the room sealed behind us. I willed a cushion into being and fell backwards onto it, staring straight up at the ceiling. There was muffled sobbing coming from a corner and I realized that it was the young man, Sipho. I frowned. He'
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
Halcyon GodIn the twelfth year following the surrender of Earth to Anteilis, I had cause to spy on Hecate. The god had long held to his reclusive tendencies, but on occasion academic curiosity gave him enough cause to work with someone else. I myself had taken advantage of this a handful of times, most notably the creation of the engines that carried humanity to the stars and in the imprisonment of God-Slayer. Now, I suspected that the remnants of Gaia's allies now called the Sea-Gods had piqued Hecate's curiosity enough to secure his assistance. Their success with the willed weapons frightened me enough that I had to know what it was, before it was released against the world.Halcyon God in Short Stories More Like This
I would not do so alone. Hecate had forsworn all alliances and he was by nature paranoid, so even our past friendship would not be enough to get me past his suspicions. They were giving me titles now, Kingfisher, the Halycon god, Patron of Spies. I couldn't simply call upon anyone without some sort of suspicio
Loki Sequel 7I did not speak to Hresh for two days, during which the three Hounds obtained fake IDs and passage on an out-bound ship. It would take us close to the border between Sanguine and Anteilis and its allegiance was to Sedna. The engine was hers as well and so the ship was christened Amiernes, after a trench that ran along the ocean floor on one of her worlds. I did not like this coincidence and suspected it was deliberate, a subtle reminder from Hresh of what had made Loki into the God-Slayer. Since there were few people stupid enough to walk into an area where war was imminent - war between gods, no less - there were few passengers. The real money to be made would be on the return trip, carrying people fleeing the border. The captain could afford to operate on a loss for the trip there. The majority of our fellow passengers would be people that could stand to profit from a war - either the criminal sort or mercenaries. There were also a number of priests of Tempest's order. Not every worlLoki Sequel 7 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Loki Sequel 14Ishtar wasted no time in fulfilling her part of the plan. She arranged for Sedna to facilitate the transfer of prisoners, as neither of us wanted either Sanguine or Anteilis on the ship. Sedna, despite her connections with the Sea-Gods, we could trust to do what we asked and nothing more. She had established her reputation as a humanitarian neutral and took great pains to ensure it remained spotless. I did my best to avoid the goddess and everyone else for that matter. To that aim, I eventually found myself holed up in the cargo hold with the contents of Captain Asher's liquor cabinet. I was making good progress through it when Phien found me, huddled behind a row of crates with my bare feet propped up on a strut along the wall. He clambered over and dropped into the cranny I had made for myself and examined the empty bottles with a critical eye.Loki Sequel 14 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Well, at least you didn't quite finish off the good stuff," he said, settling himself in next to me and reaching for a stoppered bott
Loki Sequel 12The Trey Fald was under attack within seconds. A ship was vulnerable when it was coming out of deep space, as power had not yet been rerouted from the engines to its defenses. We did not have force-shields or the likes, but a god's will could be used to strengthen the hull against weaponry. Fretter was not prepared to do this, and so the missiles cut through the layers of metal just as they were designed to. The first round punched through the armoring in staccato bursts of fire, little raindrops of molten metal picking away pinholes in the warship's defenses. The alarms were screaming then and all hands were reacting to bring the Trey Fald's own weapons to bear. A warship did not drop into border territory unprepared and even though the ambush had been completely unexpected, it only allowed the Anteillians to get off their first salvo unchallenged. Sanguine's fighters were scrambling but the enemy was already in position, and Anteilis's own fighters had them outmaneuvered before theyLoki Sequel 12 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Loki Sequel 5The Hounds split up as soon as we docked. Phien was to see about securing passage down to the planet where it would be easier to shake our pursuers. Hresh was to ensure that the assassins did not catch up with us in that time, or if they did that we were suitably warned about it. Merrat was to watch over me. He was clearly not happy with this arrangement. I touched Sleipnir with my consciousness and urged him to follow Phien. The invisibility would wear off soon enough but there was a second layer of will bound into his collar that would give him the appearance of having only four legs. I felt he'd do best with Phien. Since Hresh knew the story she'd be the most likely to act strange with the dog around and I couldn't have it following me in the hospital.Loki Sequel 5 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Tempest was the patron god of medicine. His followers had reformed the health system into something half-religion and half-science. No one was turned away and costs were kept low through heavy governmental subsidization. If a world or
FFM 2011, 29.7 - The Tower"Dora speaking."FFM 2011, 29.7 - The Tower in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Mrs. Appleby? This is Aimee Bonner. I don't know if you happen to remember me..."
"Ms. Bonner? Of course I remember you! You were my star pupil in the 7th form. I'm so glad to hear your voice."
"That's right! That's right, Mrs. Appleby. I'm glad you remembered me. Um. I know this isn't strictly according to procedures, but I was wondering if you could help me with...a thing."
"You're being awfully secretive, Aimee. I can't promise anything before you tell me what it is."
"Well, ah, you see, it's a matter of...uh...invading realities? Maybe I better explain...."
"Ms. Bonner, if you have a haunting or a poltergeist or anything of the kind, you really ought to be calling the authorities, not me."
"If you'll just let me explain Mrs. Appleby, please."
"Oh, very well."
"It's like this. I have a freezer in the cellar, where I keep frozen berries and mushrooms and things. It's quite roomy, although I usually manage to keep it filled to the brim. Anyway, I was going down there
FFM 2011, 30.7 - Old FriendsThe wind chimes picked up the storm as it came over the mountain, bringing with it rain, thunder and the cool. Sarah stood on the porch and listened, waiting.FFM 2011, 30.7 - Old Friends in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When the wind had turned unrelenting, and the chimes played their manic symphony, he appeared.
He floated out of the treeline, entirely unaffected by the wind, the tattered clothing from his violent death hanging limply from his emaciated limbs. His face was skin taut over a skull, just the way he had looked when she had thrown the first shovelful of dirt over it.
"Hello Sarah." He rasped, having come as close as the wind chimes would let him, his incorporeal body quivering with every chime.
Sarah smiled warmly.
"Hello Alvin. I've missed you."
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, 26.7 - On the FloorInmaculada Lopez was 46 years old. Her temporary green card had expired twenty years ago, but there was always work for a cleaner who pretended not to speak almost any English or understand the concept of taxation. So Inmaculada cleaned for a living, and every week she sent home an envelope of US dollar bills to her daughter in Mexico, to spend and to save for when Inmaculada could return from across the border.FFM 2011, 26.7 - On the Floor in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Inmaculada preferred working nights, in any place that was big and empty, where she could just play songs from her home in her ancient Walkman and push her cart back and forth until her work was done.
One night, she was doing just that in a large, empty hall, half a story underground. There was nothing there but a few thick pillars and a high roof, but this wasn't unusual. The space was probably between uses. That was when she noticed a pool of something, lying right in the middle of the wetness caused by her cart's brush. Still listening to the quiet guitar of the mariachi, sh
FFM 2011, 16.7 - Spy gamesThere we were, walking down the street towards that new shop she wanted to see (with shoes or something), when suddenly I just knew we were being shadowed. I tried to pretend like nothing was off, but I kept sneaking glances at the shop windows as we passed them, and sure enough, there was a trail.FFM 2011, 16.7 - Spy games in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Not just one either; first I thought it was the man in the suit, talking to his superiors on his mobile phone, but when that guy disappeared I realized there was a whole team. The street cleaner in his odd little machine trailed us for at least a block.
It was a welcome respite when we arrived at the store. She was saying something about her mother coming over the weekend, about how we needed to clean the bathroom: I was just pretending to listen. I wondered if they were tailing me because they wanted to kill me, or because they wanted the info. Oh yes, the info. I could see the beggar on the other side of the street, positioned just so to spy on me through the shop window. They must
FFM 2012, July 8 - Liminality"Remember when you could just stand in front of Checkpoint Charlie and absorb enough magic to get a free lunch?"FFM 2012, July 8 - Liminality in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Zephyr was complaining again. Ana smiled indulgently.
"It's all postmodernism's fault! All these queer studies, feminists, the end of the cold war, television...the Internet!"
Telling him old stories usually cheered him up, Ana reflected. "Remember that one time when you crossed into the Tsar's reception hall? That bearded crazy guy what was his name? Rasputin? - just barely stopped the Tsar from awarding you a peerage."
The wizard halted his climb long enough to give her a nostalgia-filled smile. "That was well over a hundred years ago, sweetheart."
"I know." She answered, keeping chipper. "Do we still need to go far?"
The DMZ stretched across the Korean peninsula. Here it was flat and grassy. They had passed the stone-faced South Korean guardsmen with a bit of Zeph's magic from the flight in, but now they would need all the charge they could get just to get back in
FFM 2012, July 4 - Sleeping BeautyThe baby would be christened Aurore. It was mostly Anne's decision Steven would have preferred something less ostentatious. They had tried for years and years the natural way, but it wasn't meant to be. Finally, they had volunteered for the Summers Foundation's trial run. Aurore still had Steve's and her genes just slightly rearranged.FFM 2012, July 4 - Sleeping Beauty in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The christening was huge. June, Gussie and Mae Summers were the ones who had helped Annie and Steve through the whole ordeal, but they were also the ones who had rearranged Aurore's genes. Choosing them to be the babe's godmothers was an obvious decision. They crowed around the mother in their summer dresses and hats. Today the lab coats were nowhere to be seen.
"She's going to be beautiful. Just like her mother." June said. And a little more than that, if her research turned out to be on the button.
Gussie, the oldest of the three, declared: "She'll be smart. Brilliant, even." That had been an obvious addition.
"Not just that: s
FFM 2012, July 28 - Wandering SpiritsIt all started with the lost week. No, wait. It all started with the episode, the day before the lost week. The episode consisted of Mr. Smith suddenly being possessed in a fit of shouting and screaming in some language Mrs. Smith was quite sure wasn't English. They took him to the hospital, but the doctors didn't find anything amiss in the CAT-scans, and Mr. Smith seemed to have returned to normal, so they sent him home. Mrs. Smith instead called on the local preacher, who told Mrs. Smith to keep an eye on her husband he might be speaking in tongues.FFM 2012, July 28 - Wandering Spirits in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Alternatively, the preacher noted, he was possessed by the devil. Despite Mr. Smith's assertions that he was 'perfectly fine', the next morning Mrs. Smith woke only to find her husband missing. The car was gone, as was a change of clothes, so the police assumed he had simply up and left the distraught Mrs. Smith. However, after 48 hours and no contact, a 'missing person' notice was put up.
A week later, Mr. Smith was rec
FFM 2012, July 26 - Proud Mech WarriorsRed was at the end of his rope when it came to Command. Him, the best mech pilot the Caledonian Union had ever seen, wasted on useless skirmishes not a hundred klicks from the Olympians main base. When Red entered the battlefield some two years ago, he was no usual fourteen year old: The battle turned from a decade-old stalemate to a steady and gradual victory parade for the Union. Now he thought he knew exactly how to end the war once and for all. Sure, it meant planning to disobey orders, which was to invite a court martial, but Red was sure the trial would dissolve into a victory parade once the war was over.FFM 2012, July 26 - Proud Mech Warriors in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Mech warfare was not just a natural evolution brought on by the low surface gravity it was also brought on by the low population density. War was necessary obviously but lives was not something the Martians could afford to lose. Lose enough lives in war, and they'd have to accept immigrants. That was the last thing any self-respecting Martian would want. Th
The TDST, Ch.33.The TDST, Ch.3 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I stuffed a twenty into Jennifer the Art Student's hand and nodded to one of the techno-playing dancing spray paint t-shirt guys. The DJ guy span turn tables, totally into the act, whilst his cohort sprayed graffiti on white T's. The entrepreneurial street performers dominated a section of sidewalk. A small crowd gawked.
Jennifer looked at me and snorted. "You're kidding, right?"
I threw a thumbs-up in her direction. "Go get yourself an awesome T," I said. "I'll be back in ten."
She turned away from the t-shirt guys and followed the path of my shoulder as I tried to turn away. "This is ridiculous," she complained.
"Work thing," I held out my hands. "I swear. Ten minutes. I'll just be around the corner."
"Okay," she moped like a dog tied to a pole outside a butcher's shop. "Just don't be long." She was giving me the 'so this is why they say to not date c
The TDST, 2222.The TDST, 22 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
We collared Emily at her class and escorted her away. Her classmates stared and gawked; apparently TDT presence was a big deal. If kayaking was Emily's cover, she'd already done her illicit business on the lake. So, the girl had no problem throwing a royal fit as we hauled her off.
"What is this? I haven't done anything!" Et cetera. Her whining created an auditory parade all the way to the campus PD office, where we borrowed an interview room.
We all squeezed the little gray room with the one-way mirror. Interview rooms like this were a Transdimensional constant in any world that resembled mine. Emily was still whining until I interrupted.
"We know you peddle the dope, kid."
Emily's mouth snapped shut. She looked at me dead on. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Your neighbor ratted you out."
"I don't even know my neighbor."
"He saw the thugs in suits, Emily," I accused. "And named you as a local dealer of noir."
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
The TDST, 1919.The TDST, 19 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The short man in black was slumped over, lifeless, his elbows resting neatly on his knees. I army-crawled over to him and stuck my two fingers on his neck. Broken glass stuck out of the carpet, cutting my legs and forearms with pinprick stings. I heard another gunshot, then three more, in perfect rhythm as if someone was pounding the keys on a typewriter.
"Stay down!" I shouted.
C, there were kids at the pool tables. Shot to pieces?
In a panic, I looked for the civilians.
They were hiding in the corners, all appeared to be accounted for. And my team? I'd never forgive myself if Cass was shot. Krathax had draped a large arm over her, pressing her low to the ground. Lumiel had flitted away to a corner, staring with intensity.
"Outside," she shouted to me the shooter's location. "On the cliff!"
"Who'd take a shot at you?" I asked the tall man, Harm
The TDST, Ch.1414.The TDST, Ch.14 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The PD meeting had been successful.
I'd only been to the Round Table a few times. It was where the big-wigs talked about long term plans, the murky lines where police work and politics intersected. I'd met with the lead detective on the Snowman case and the detective who'd taken my testimony on the phone. The Police Commissioner and my Lt. were called in. Papers were filled out, lunch was consumed, and plans were set in motion to mobilize a proper sting.
I got credit where credit was due. A handshake, a pat on the back, personal congrats from the mayor via speakerphone. But it all tasted like ash in my mouth, and felt kind of empty. My brain knew best, and it wanted me to leave the dimension, if I still could. I'd left Cass in a lurch, turning my back from the TDT.
I'd punched, clawed and swore I'd get out of there and back home. And here I was!
Around dinner t
The TDST, Ch.1212.The TDST, Ch.12 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Nocturnal Embers was the most inappropriately named dive I'd ever seen. I didn't exactly look up the Yelp reviews to find out, but I didn't think I had needed to. I figured on instinct it was a Goth hangout. You know, the kind where grown men painted their nails and drank wine pretending it was blood, that kind of shit.
But no. Upon entering the bar, daytime of course so Cass wouldn't get any flack for being a minor, I found it was a Ma and Pa diner with wood tables, a friendly bar, and twenty year old rip-off Tiffany lamps with an equally friendly development of dust taking residence on their tops. Cass smiled and skittered ahead of me, scooting onto one of the bar stools and hailing the barkeep over excitedly.
She was immediately at home, and I quietly wondered at what age in her world one could legally become an incorrigible lush. I mean, I've heard of ye olde detective stories where the partner is a hot-headed dr
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.1616.The TDST, Ch.16 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
We left for the Royal Repository too early in the morning for my taste. I hadn't finished my coffee, and was still bleary-eyed when Lumiel goose-stepped into the breakfast lounge and told us it was time to go.
We went through a boring, brown door somewhere in the maze of the Between facility and ended up somewhere else entirely. No flashy lights, no dancing colors, traveling in the Between was as simple as taking a step...if you knew which direction to go.
So, you know by know that the fabric of the Between is malleable. You could, with the right sciencey/magicky information, pop a Rift just about anywhere and materialize into say, the center of the Repository. But for security reasons and 'shhh, it's a library!' reasons, we went through the only permanent door that lead from the TDT base to the Repository. We exited into what appeared to be the center of a hedge maze.
It looked like we'd be doing some walking. Inwar
The TDST, Ch.1313.The TDST, Ch.13 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Cass looked stunned. "Sheriff, aren't you tired of being beaten on? They're gonna kill you if you try to get yer damn trinket back!"
"They can trace me, Sister. All my contact information's on there. Don't worry, I have a plan."
"Oh God, not another plan," Cass groaned.
I peeked out of the office door, and saw Six remove his bowler, unbutton his coat, and shuffle slowly towards the bar. Walter pushed past me, glaring, as if the most important thing in the world was attending to his customers. I cut around him and approached Six from a different angle.
Purposefully, I slammed into him, and successfully managed to pickpocket my phone. But Six growled, looking distinctly sinister, and said: "I thought a smart detective like you got the message."
Two bold hands wrapped around my collar and I was lifted from the floor with apparent ease. I glanced behind me to the elderly couple I'd spied before.
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
Unwanted Angel"Bury me, maybe I'll bloom." Her voice is as light as the air that caresses my face.Unwanted Angel in Short Stories More Like This
"Hmm?" My voice is sleepy, and I prop myself up on my elbows to look at her.
Her hair, loose curls just a shade away from being the color of sun beams, is being pulled and tugged on by the wind. Her eyes are closed, and head back, as the tire swing rocks her frail body back and forth. "Like a seed. Maybe if we buried me, I'd bloom." She clarifies, and I watch her wriggling toes sink into the loamy soil.
"You'd be the most beautiful flower ever, Emmie." I nod, and let my lips brush her kneecap. She giggles slightly, a sound like bells caught by the wind's fingertips. Though she's a little too thin, and feels a little too breakable when I hug her, I never want to let her go. Pale skin is stretched across her petite bones, like a blank canvas. I've memorized the spots on her body where every freckle is nestled, and where every scar is from when she was a little too careless.
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,
Our Day Will ComeI stare longingly at the full moon,Our Day Will Come in Free Verse More Like This
through tear-stained eyes.
It's embraced in midnight blue silk,
tenderly caressed by pale cotton clouds.
I know the same moon,
cradled in the same sky,
is above your handsome head
as you lay alone, waiting for sleep.
I'm not praying,
I refuse to believe it,
as I wish to be able to fall asleep in your arms.
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
I Used To BeOur toes are making tidal waves in the water, dusk-dazed legs dangling from the pier, as she rests her head on my shoulder. Hair the color of cedar bark, and as fine as spider silk, tickles my chin, as she lifts her cheek.I Used To Be in Short Stories More Like This
My eyelids, pinned down by fireflies and dying embers, open sleepily, and I scan her body, a slender silhouette against the burning sunset. "I used to be a mermaid." Her lips, the pale pink of a catfish belly, whisper to me, as fingertips brush the white tips of persistent waves.
I can't manage more than a drowsy, "Oh?" captivated by the curve of her back, bent so can whisper to the waves, and the quiet melody she produces with her words.
"Mhmm." It's more of a sigh, dripping with longing, that splashes into the warm water, and caresses our feet. "But they caught me in their nets. I remember the sudden change of current, and the sweeping green mesh that stole me out of my waters. Their wide eyes, and grimy fingers, insistent on poking and prodding my every limb. They
A Promise Wrapped In ThornsYou told me you'd bring me a rose on every one of our dates.A Promise Wrapped In Thorns in Short Stories More Like This
I remember you vowing that, as you stood on my porch, in your rented tuxedo, and handed me my very first one. Just a simple red rose, but it was the most beautiful sight, held in your shaking hand. I remember smiling at you, a smile that must have lit up the night, because I had never felt more loved in my life. I set the rose in a vase, and took your hand in mine. Your hands were sweating, and I knew you were afraid, but I never wanted to let go. "What are you scared of?" I had asked, as you held the door of your car open for me, eyes wide in an intoxicating mix of eagerness, and fright. "Only of losing you." The words were shaky as they escaped your lips, nothing out of a romance novel, but they warmed my heart nonetheless. And as I stood on my tiptoes, that night, as you wished me a goodnight, and I let my lips whisper across yours, I knew you'd keep your promise. I set the rose on the windowsill by my bed, 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
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
Sticks and Stones - Part 5The journey to Whitechapel was made more straightforward than it might have been by Lizzie's new-found helpfulness. She maintained a policy of only speaking when she was asked a direct question while we travelled through the DLR and District Line. Assam Street curled around the rear of a pair of wholesome apartment blocks like a drunkard's hand on the backside of a waitress. On one side, I could smell the petrol draft from an underground car-park, with the clap of well-soled shoes making their way to the stairs. On the other, someone with a fog of lager-breath around him was busy taking a piss against a wall.Sticks and Stones - Part 5 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Alright," I said, squeezing Lizzie's arm to draw her out of her thoughtful silence. "Where's number four?"
"Up at the end," she said. "If I take you to the door, will you let me go?"
I started walking up the street, one hand on Lizzie and the other on my cane.
"Not just yet."
"But I don't know anything." The girl hung back, forcing me to lead her like a stubborn dog. "You
Sticks and Stones - Part 9I was about to ask what Mack's plan was when cloven hooves sounded on the ramp. The faun from the bar had arrived, and he'd brought his chips with him.Sticks and Stones - Part 9 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Sorry boss," he said. "But do we know anyone called Dominic Denever?"
"Why?" I asked before Mack could reply.
"Cos there's a skirt at the door who's lookin' for him," said the faun. "Cute one. Got a face like butter wouldn't melt."
I made an exasperated sound toward the ceiling. "Is she holding a notebook by any chance?"
The faun didn't respond. A new set of footsteps descended the ramp, and a scent of floral deodorant floated down to meet me.
"It's me," she said. "Lizzie."
For a moment I didn't know what to say. Then I thought of three things at once. I decided to go with the most direct one. Standing up, I turned to face her.
"I thought I told you to go home and sleep on it."
Lizzie walked toward me, each step tentative.
"I did," she said. "But I wrote down everything first."
I groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I see."
TF: R3 - Stormy WeatherTan had visited Marrakech a number of times in his career, and it had never been sunny. A sunny day - in Tan's opinion - involved a pint of slightly warm ale in front of a game of county cricket, with the odd passing cloud to attract worried looks from the players.TF: R3 - Stormy Weather in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The sun never shone in Marrakech. It assaulted the ground, beating the desert rocks into a fine dust that got up noses and inside undergarments. It was as if every morning the sun rolled up its sleeves and declared that life on Planet Earth had had it far far too easy. With such a mistress reigning outside, Tan was happy to shelter indoors.
Bobbie - concerned about light-fingered Moroccans - had insisted on a rug shop that overlooked the airstrip. It was claustrophobia-inducingly small, and made even stuffier by the inches-thick layer of rugs that coated the walls. The owner was a crooked-nosed man not much taller than Bobbie, with a creased leather face that place him somewhere between sixty and six-hundre
Sticks and Stones - Part 6To my relief, the girl took my offered hand with no further questions. We had almost reached the ladder when said relief was cut short by a clang of metal. Feeling Lizzie repeat her freezing act, I stopped, testing the air with my nose and the space in front with my cane. But it was my ears that gave me the most prudent information; an abrasive hiss against the metal rungs of the ladder, followed by a rolling thump, like a dropped rope coiling at the foot of a ship's mast.Sticks and Stones - Part 6 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Good evening," said a voice like sand through an hourglass. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
Without making any conscious decision, I took a step backward, bumping into Lizzie who'd simultaneously attempted to take shelter behind me. Her hand gripped mine as if she believed I might disappear. Up ahead, there was a slap of a hand bracing against the wall, then a scrape of scales on the tiled floor.
"Then let's introduce ourselves," I said, implementing the first stalling tactic that came to mind. "My name's B
Sticks and Stones - Part 2It was turning into one of those days. The airline had lost my luggage; the trains had all been cancelled or late; and - in the three years I'd been gone from the city - my favourite greasy spoon had closed. Given all that, it seemed perfectly reasonable that I would exit Covent Garden tube station to find myself being followed.Sticks and Stones - Part 2 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"That's him. With the cane."
"Goggled. Let's go."
Followed by two of the city's most inept stalkers.
The citizens of London came in as many varieties as the rain. Everything from the sulking drizzle that was - at that very moment - attempting to creep inside the wool collar of my coat, to the shameless soaking downpours that didn't so much clean the city as tidy the crisp packets and dead cats into neat little piles. The particular London citizens dogging my steps on that grey afternoon had sharp, hard footsteps and - it appeared - not a lot of sense.
"Keep your blinkers on him."
"What d'you think I'm doing? Admiring the effing scenery?"
Letting my tails wag be
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
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
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.
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
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."
Body Speak, Mouth Don't."I need a favour. You got a minute?"Body Speak, Mouth Don't. in Free Verse More Like This
No. No I don't.
My heart feels ripped out of my chest and trampled on too often.
My ears open to screams in the morning.
My eyes close crying every night.
My mind always turns dreams into nightmares.
My lungs contract too soon for me to catch my breath.
My worries far outweigh my years.
My brain feels overworked, overwrought, so tired.
My stomach cramps every night and I curl up in pain.
My knees weaken often but I'm still standing.
My mouth goes dry and I can't speak.
My hands dampen because I have too much to think about.
My bones feel weaker than they ever have before.
But I don't think it's anything to be worried about, really.
"Sure. How can I help you?"
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
Judgement"You need to stop doing this."Judgement in Short Stories More Like This
"Stop doing what?"
"Writing me into your stories."
"Because it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then."
"Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!"
"So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly."
"Well firstly, I'm a really nervous person."
"Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting your nails."
"And I don't like going out. I'm a hermit."
"Except to your best friends' houses, or to the animal shelter, or to me."
"And I'm dead inside."
"Says the boy who hides his tears at the sight of an injured puppy."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do."
"Anyway, I'm not always nice to you. In fact, I really don't do enough."
"You're right. Except yo
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
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
Vengeance"What did she say this time?"Vengeance in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"How did you-"
"It's always your mother, and I always know. Now tell me."
"I'm not going to ask you again. Just tell me."
"She said that I can't draw. I can't sing. I can't act. I can't do anything and I never shall- You're laughing."
"I'm sorry. Certain phrases make me want to laugh. 'I can't' is one of them."
"I'm glad you find my grief so amusing."
"Look, you need to understand something. The word 'can't' is going to follow you around for the rest of your life. History is filled with people who were told they 'can't' do something. You know what makes them special?"
"They did it anyway."
"Pure and simple huh? Just like that?"
"The truth is never pure and always complicated. But yes. Just like that."
"There is always someone telling me I'm not good enough."
"And there will always be someone telling you that you aren't good enough. You have two choices. You can curl up and stop doing everything you love. You can let the
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
i sometimes think.my face is a little like myi sometimes think. in Free Verse More Like This
heart, beautiful pieces that
add up to an ugly whole
it doesn't come free.if you want it, you're going to have to catch it.it doesn't come free. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you're going to have to run until your feet are caked with silt and your mouth is burned with wind, until your heart is laboring behind rusted ribs. you're going to have to chase it through sand storms and ocean tantrums and to the edge of the world and over. you're going to have to strip out of your clothes and inhibitions and fear and pride because it's not slowing down. it's not going to idle in anticipation or pause or give you a fair shake. it's going to twist in currents and cut corners and laugh as it's free diving into still lakes.
if you want it, you're going to have to tempt it.
you're going to have to promise with a honeyed tongue and then confess with bare-boned honesty. you're going to have to be cunning and honest, vulnerable and strong. you're going to have to know the art of silence under blue moon stars and the seduction of words breathed through smoke veils. you're going to have to twist poetry from your capillaries an
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
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
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
pretty words, dead flowers_ci want a boy that makes me weak in the elbows.pretty words, dead flowers_c in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i want him to drive a red camaro and put pens behind his ear because hes scared hell think of something he needs to say when theres no one around. i want him to never hesitate to hug me from behind or throw me over his shoulder and spin me until i swallow my spine. i want him to mess up my hair and pinch my cheek and then kiss me until my teeth are shaking and my nerves are smoking. i dont know where he is yet, but i know ill find him.
well, i won't make you weak in the elbows, but i can make you weak in your ribcage; i can tame the struggling butterflies and terminate your bloodflow. i don't have a car, but i'd rather take long walks with you across the vivace boardwalk, holding hands or locking lips. there's no pen behind my ears, but there's an eraser in my chest that can erase all your problems if you listen closely. i won't hug you when you cry; i'd save them for beating up the bastard who stole
if you keep getting under.i saw you today and said heyif you keep getting under. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
but what i meant was:
holyhell, youre beautiful. you look like sunshine trapped in mason jars and fireflies stuck in moonbeams. you have a smile that punches straight to the spinal cord, did you know that? i just spent the last five seconds rebooting my heart, training my lungs how to breathe again. exhale, inhale. it should be simple but youve snarled it all in a giant mess. im unwinding the ball of yarn into a straight jacket and youre as unaffected as the sea. id say im a boat but im hardly as sturdy. im a feather. its almost funny how little a chance i have of staying afloat. im soaked and matted and sinking into the undertow. and youre just churning on and on and on.
i saw you today and said how have you been?
but what i meant was:
have you lost as much sleep as i have? ive spent 3256 hours trying to piece together the exact curves that m
winter heart.maybe it's the weather. maybe it's the steam in the morning and the fog in my lungs that brings these words to life. i can feel them stirring under my breath like a second life; i can taste them in the december air that teases nostalgia from the pitter patter of my winter heart.winter heart. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's like life is a faded photograph. its like time is a frozen lake. it's like i'm sitting on porches wearing oversized sweaters and holding cups that burn the tips of my numb fingertips. it's like i'm in a forest and it's damp. it's dark. it tastes like a memory and the rain looks the way it did two years ago when i was broken. it's like remembering something perfect in a moment that was anything but; like holding something just out of reach in the palm of my hand.
ten months and three days ago: i'm in a coffee shop with frost on the sidewalk. it is quiet and loud and i have the feeling that i really am all alone. but it isn't bad. it is peaceful. it is soft and my bruised heart breathes deep. i exhale. it is
The Perfect Words"There is something important I need to tell you."The Perfect Words in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
But I couldn't say the next line out loud.
My face would always break into that unstoppable smile,
And my eyes would always suddenly take on a will of their own.
It's like the very essence of happiness,
In knowing a secret more beautiful than all the lies.
Like simply knowing you are in love with someone,
And knowing how much they love you back.
But you know I'm going to try again some day,
To hold onto your eyes and say these perfect words.
And I'd probably smile too, helplessly,
For there's no better thing to do than to share my love with you.
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.
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.
Emotions On My SleevesI love the way you wear your smile,Emotions On My Sleeves in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Like the way you say I wear my emotions on my sleeves.
And every day I can't seem to see enough,
And every time I crave to be shown more.
I've always thought of things to do on a day like this,
Holding your hands just the way it is.
And my heart opens up to you like a wish forever,
So happy that I can hardly believe.
So now I'm hoping to tell you I love you before you do,
To tell you how beautiful you are before you take my breath away.
And apparently my emotions are betraying me on my sleeves again,
As I find myself suddenly smiling into your mind stealing kiss.
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.
Love RevengeI love the way you tease,Love Revenge in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
With your finger tips on my back,
Breathing hushed whispers of things I could only dream at night.
I love the way your touch makes me freeze in my steps:
Swaying between the need to stand still,
And the temptation to shudder in mindless ways.
If only you could stop teasing for even a moment,
A moment for me to try to collect my mind,
Then I could show you just how much it means for your love to be mine.
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.
ConvincedI miss you when I am far away,Convinced in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Then when I get close you take my breath away.
Life is supposed to be unpredictable,
And I never came to believe in destiny and fate.
Till you, anyway,
Brought to me your idea of a soul mate.
The idea that we are meant to be together,
The stories of people finding each other.
Every time I think of us now,
I would feel a connection that has always been there,
A proof beyond all odds,
And I can feel it every time I hear your voice.
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.