Explore Prose

Jane's eyes widened in horror. Her fingernails … were they a bit ... longer? Darker? Why here? Why now? A sharp, sudden pressure jabbed at her tongue and cheek. Instinctively she concealed her mouth with both ash-covered hands. She did not need a mirror to know exactly what was happening to her body. But why? She had absolutely no clue what she did to cause it to react this way ... Jane's breath grew rapid and hot. No time. She knew she had to force herself out of it. If she let herself panic, all hope would be lost. Jane squeezed her eyes shut. It was dark; she tried to concentrate. The young woman reached out in her mind, trying over and over again to grasp onto something, anything she could focus on, but the memories continued to slip away …The darkness was not calming, it was blinding! She couldn't see! The pulsating of her chest tore into her concentration. No … Jane would not let this happen. She could not let this happen. She drew a long, deep

Countless tomes. Stacks of essays. And that is just what I have written and read. The pursuit of knowledge and wisdom enamored me with the love of books and reading as well as discovery. Each alchemical text, each spirituality, each esoteric lore has added to my own understanding of this world, for which I find myself avenging after more. Soon, with my father leading, the hunt for wisdom became the hunt for books. To find that one book or collection of books that would finally cinch the explanation on how to achieve near divinity on Earth. Well, that was more my father’s goal. For my part, I was simply engrossed in each new discovery we made, each new form of reasoning developed, and being exposed to texts and images of arcane and occult nature. I found it all very fascinating. It wasn’t long before my father and I started collaborating on research projects and rituals. His was a mixture of practicality and understanding, where at the time, my purposes were academic. Still, it

Acta non verba. Since I have enough words for both of us, show—no need to tell. Yes, I’m in love with words. I am a writer, after all. But for that exact reason, I know all the meaning behind them. So do not waste your breath or the ink of your pen, for I won’t listen, and I won’t read. No, not this time. I will observe. The actions. They hold meaning most words could never express. Even if they could, I have decided—don’t you see? I’m going to observe. Hear me now. The way you look at me— Sincerity or deception in those eyes of yours? The way you hold my hand— Am I held hostage, or is my hand in yours safe, as if resting on a pile of cotton? The way you interpret this action of mine, still expressed in words— Will you question me, or will you simply understand that, more than ever, I need actions to prove the stability of words—or their inability to stand straight while you act? Acta non verba. For even a writer needs proof that his imagination was not running wild, but in fact, his

The beast was close, he heard it with his acute senses, he felt how it stomped on the ground. And he felt the scent. Blood. Fresh, just spilled blood. He would find it even more energizing, if not urVa’s feelings slipping through the mind’s connection they had. urVa felt revolted and he felt that too, that cold rage, that anger. But he was sure he would not trade his counterpart’s company for any pleasure he felt when blood was hot and his talons were stained with it. urVa was giving him his vital essence, enfolding his body with an invisible net made of assured courage, and stoic strength, hard as stone. He jumped on the tree faster than the urru’s eye could follow. urVa didn’t try to climb after him, even if he could do it, easily. He relied on skekMal’s eyes and skill. The Hunter chuckled darkly. “These gelfling were really stupid. To go on such a well-armed animal without any support.” “That creature was bringing them harm for almost an unum, skekMal” urVa said calmly.

How long will you run from your feelings? A day? A month? A year? You can battle all the monsters. Complete all the quests. Rescue maidens who need no help. You can devise all kinds of explanations and excuses. But... Eventually, you'll have to face the truth. You love me and I love you. Doesn't get more simple or more complex than that. So will you keep running? Or stand your ground and embrace this fight? Will you extinguish this fire or fan the flames? The choice is yours, brave knight. Will you be mine?

The leaves rustled like a chorus as a gust cut through the forests and fields. Towering next to you, the black dragon Atherakhia lifted her horned head and took a deep sniff. “Can you smell it, my friend? The wind whispers the promise of rain,” she asked in her melodious voice. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t sense what she could. Yet, at the same time, one did not need the incredibly sharp senses of a dragon to notice the grey clouds gathering above the proud mountains at the end of the horizon. They were far away but approached quickly, like an avalanche that had set out on its destructive journey. “Watch how fast they soar on the back of the winds. If only I could fly that fast... Hah, I would circle the world every day!” your dragon companion continued, twitching her black wings in longing. You glanced up at her with a furrowed brow. Was she serious? She could already split the sky like onyx lighting! Were the old injuries on her right wing not enough to

Imagine being human, Loving someone just to lose 'em, Acting brave only to run, Feeling brave only to die. Imagine being human, Feeling small, even in union, Thus resorting to the fusion, Of heart and mind and matter. Imagine being human, The greatest revolution, Successors of this era, Yet flawed children of Terra. Imagine being human, Creating to feel complete, Imagine being human, Dependent and weak. Imagine being human, Being less than but a fraction, Of cosmic dust and space, Humanity treats life like a race. Imagine being human, Needing a specific reason, Like the duty of a maiden, Or the calling of a crewman. Imagine being human, Wanting a certain function, Dear, please clear your vision, Approval is your poison.

I don't understand, Universe The things you do Is it always me? Or do you have something to do with it too? I try to understand That love isn't transactional It just is. So forgive me my ignorance Does there always have to be So much goddamned needless pain? And suffering So many vain tragedies And vagaries? And does every day essentially have to be the same With so much needless suffering With so much confusion So much doubt? If love isn't transactional Why do I always feel that I have to shout Get so angry, so enraged? Like a man that is unable to do anything Like a prisoner, trapped in a cage The centerpiece in this carnival With nothing left to say Feel Pray, or think I have a suspicion That I will never truly know you And it's times like this When I don't think I ever want to My understanding of love seems to be So diverse from yours When I don't see any rhyme or reason I'm reminded of the cold bars surrounding My prison And yet I believe that I committed no crime But to

It’s a sweltering mid-summer Saturday afternoon, not unlike the day before, and the one before that. They are in their apartment, him in his plain brown recliner, her propped on the arm of her refurbished vintage loveseat, the fan spinning lazy circles like a crippled bird. Its thrumming white noise has been valiantly filling the silences, but wings can only do so much. If not for the pain, there would be comfort in the familiarity of the argument sizzling in the air. She said: “How could you say that? And in that way…” He stares cold-eyed and shrugs, his ice gathering shoulders, quietly burdened, are begging for an avalanche. It has become too heavy. Any excuse will do. She said: “As if it is mathematics, equations, not conversations, with your words like numbers, reducing everything to addition and subtraction—“ He said: “You’re doing it again, speaking in metaphors and surrealisms. You know I can’t stand it. What the hell is your problem? And what does any of it

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The light from the afternoon’s sun beamed through the blinds from the outside world. Clicks from a lone keyboard at a desk along with the groans and clunks of the ventilation system that snaked through the walls were the only sounds heard through the small office. A woman sat at a cluttered desk strewn with documents, stray notes, and other assorted office supplies, that almost seemed to visually represent her fatigue and late hours. Heather sighed to herself as she sat in front of a dimming plastic computer monitor that was lined with text and numbers. The drum of her jagged nails that she had been biting pattered on the dull wooden surface of her desk. It always seemed like time and work were two things that would never reach an equilibrium. Her mind wandered momentarily as she thought back to her daughter who would be getting out of school in a little less than an hour. Heather remembered driving Mia to school that morning with only just enough time to make it to work. Even if

                                                “Kenna! Stay near me! Don’t go charging off until I give the word!” Newt ordered his comrade as they both faced down a massive Drake with a spike layered, dark crimson hide and massive, ebony horns curling out of its thorny mane. The scantily clad warrior girl was loath to hang back and allow their adversary the first move, but she begrudgingly ceded to his command and remained standing in front of him with her Claymore held before her in a defensive stance.                                                 “You better know what you’re doing!” Kenna yelled at Newt as the draconic beast angrily snarled with smoke billowing out of its jagged toothed jaws and pluming from its nostrils before it charged at them. The experienced warlock, dressed in a dark, heavy cloak and spectacles, planted his tree-root staff into the ground and quickly uttered an incantation as the Drake charged toward them. Just when the monster was nearly upon them, Newt

Sometimes I feel lonely, like I'm missing my other half. Longing for a person I may never meet. Someone I can love with all my heart. Who won't betray me, unlike countless others before. But when I think about this person, I find I have requirements now. Things I'm not willing to overlook. When faced with the insurmountable standards of my heart, I fear I'll never find them. And then the loneliness passes when I realize - I am actually mostly content alone, And my cat can accept me and my love far easier than a human. Do I need a lover? No. Do I want one? Yes. Would I trade my cat for true love? Absolutely not! So I smother my cat with boundless affection, while thinking about the person I may never meet.

† - 0 - † Jerusalem; August 7, 1099 A.D. The sun was setting behind the glowing Dome of the Rock, its dusky orange light combined with the intense gleam of the gold tiles suffusing the monument's entranceway. An old, cracked wooden table sat in that light, making it the perfect place for reading maps (such as the currently laid-out one, showing the Near East territories) and letters such as the one resting atop of it. The seal holding the letter shut had already been broken open, which only its intended recipient would dare to do, considering it was the seal of the greatest power on Earth: the Roman Catholic Church. The man to whom it was addressed was still smiling broadly, his breath still caught in restrained glee as he read once again the Decree contained on the parchment; even after a hundred readings, it still made him feel giddy. "By the power vested in us by our Saviour, we give to the Duke Godefroi de Bouillon possession and control over the kingdom of Jerusalem as

The first time you told me you loved me I thought, "We’ll see about that," Like I was strangely determined to prove you wrong. For some reason, Accepting love never came easy. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to love others, Thinking if I just gave enough, I would one day be worthy of it myself— A crude sort of penance for sins self-critical and abrasive. In those days, I was so afraid to just be me. I often wondered who it was you actually loved, Because there was no way it was my real self— The me that danced around my own truths like eggshells, Landmines of insecurity waiting to blow, Fearing each reveal of my reality would be the one that pushed you away. I must have been insufferable. And yet, with every triggered detonation, you only drew closer to me. You said we were all products of constant change in a world with not enough sense or empathy to go around, That we had to extend those gifts to others just as much as to ourselves. I remember asking you why you stuck

How do you not see the heightened gesture? The turn of the head? Look around. See the contingents. Look above. The brushstrokes are there, the patterns oscillate, offering their delight to you. How can you not hear the story, be moved by its form, and fail to admit its totality? How can you deny your character? Indeed, there is a chronicle beyond laced with awe. By E.Elliot & A.J.Mortimer

Get off your telephone. Look the people in the eye. Focus more on those around you who appear in flesh in blood rather than pixels on a screen. You focus too much on the things out of your control. The world is big and complicated. It always has been so. It always will be so. The world is a great and wonderful place, but we never seem to hear about or focus on that part. Bad news and negativity seem to fly from all directions and they are designed in a way to keep you hooked. Things feel like they are worse than ever, but I think that’s only due to the sheer volume of information and media available. One is only a short click or tap away from it all. While it is good to stay informed about the things going on in the world, don’t lose track of your immediate surroundings. Live your life to the best you can as you only have so much time before it ends. Don’t be one of those people known as the ‘chronically online.’

It had all began in a flash, I just couldn’t follow it. We’d taken to each other like white on rice. I can’t even believe it happened, I will admit. And, your unparalleled company was plenty to suffice. We talked for hours, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to stop. We’d always end on a happy note and say our goodbyes. We had such a projection on each other that we caused a swap Of the roles in our connection – much to our surprise. We really couldn’t let each other go, not a moment of silence. And even if silence prevailed, it was soon combated. I couldn’t stop talking to you, I had a heavy reliance On the solace you provided with every moment we chatted. I never thought it could end, I was stuck on the high Of our endless talking and unceasing growth on each other. I wish I could have given more, but I was always too shy. And, I really didn’t want to chase you away and smother. I had grown so close, so comfortable; I told you worlds about me and you did too. But… I may have come

You're birthday party wishes; the first time I danced in the rain, the flavour of vanilla, on the tongue, from Ginsberg's poetry, your kiss tastes of ocean foam hitting the beach's sand, like a force of nature... Doesn't even know it. Its own strength -It can't acclaim. Would you be afraid? If I said, that if you'd tell me you donned me my first breath... I'd believe it. And on the pews, you're a force like the mass; the priest, the bible and leader. Because I was alone In The Dark, until your eyes pierced through. I was hungry for everything, cold to everything and I cried, for midnight became my noon. You painted my walls with your flames and made me come out where all around was alive. You are all that is living, all that is beautiful, all that can bloom and breathe. And when it was needed to thrive, to birth the warmth and light, when it was absolutely necessary to revive -fire was the prayer, The boy is not the God