That She May SeeI made the offer to my dead wife to use my eyesto see her grand children grow up. Now every timeI see something I probably shouldn't, every time Ilook to the darkness all I can think of is her eyeslooking back at me.They do not judge only seem sad at a broken promise.My mind is changed as is my heart. I wish only for herhappiness wherever she may be as I look once more tothe photos of our Grandchildren that she may see.
Dead At My FeetLeft standing in the aftermath of that battle within myself,blood and terror, total war of the soul stains the earthas fire licks razor cuts upon my fine ideals to smokethat stings my eyes and leaves a taste of burnt fleshupon my tongue. Gods and devils liedead at my feet.
Hell An' Damnation!It'd been hours since the funeral and wake of Pappa Joe, the oldest living family member and my Grandfather. I'd eaten more than my fair share, drank too much and told too many of the "colorful" stories I remembered the old man telling over the years and so when it came time to leave no one made even token attempt to get me to stay. Granma stayed behind. There were family members she only ever saw at funerals and weddings she'd explained. I'll catch a ride with........ she'd said but my mind was a blur from the booze and I'd wandered away and out the door without even hearing, or if I'd heard I didn't comprehend.Hell an' Damnation! I heard immediately upon entering my Granma's house. Hell an' Damnation! The familiar voice gave vent to all the frustration of a man who'd walked into his home only to find he no longer lived there. Hell an' Damnation I heard again as I stood transfixed unable to look away from the scene of Pappa Joe standing, his back to m
I Keep DreamingThe world shakesI see my face in the broken mirror.Facets of existence,a million different mes falling from my bed.The floor is hard and cold.I want so much to be warm.but I keep dreaming.
Night Of StoriesThere was a moon in the sky when I was young, the old man told us. A Moon? What's that?, the young ones asked. A whole world right up there he said. So close you could reach out and touch her if you climbed the high mountains and if you wanted you could jump up and she'd catch you and you could spend the day. Yer fibbin', said the older ones but I couldn't help but ask, where did she go? Well, she got tired one day and fell from the sky, he said and while she rested greedy people made a slave of her and made her carry them away never to be seen again. That's sad I said. Won't she ever come back? Not in my lifetime he said with a tear in his eye he quickly wiped away but I saw it. And since that night, that night of stories I've sat here watchin' , waitin' for her to return so I could say the old man missed her while she was gone and won't she please stay in case he should return.
Night SweatsI'm so tired of being tired and yet it does me little good to dream.I'd cut my wrist if I had a chainsaw but all I can find is this damnfountain pen and it bleeds me little, the ink drying too quickly toleave it's mark upon the world.
MoustacheHer villain’s moustache had finally arrived in the post. Geneviève slapped it on and admired it in the mirror. It was long, divided in two, and pointing stiffly off to the sides with a curl at each end. Oh, yes—it was perfect. Goodbye to queue-jumping and not taking your library books back: it was time to move up to the next rung of being evil. Geneviève did a little dance of glee and twirled the moustache. And then much to her surprise it twirled her. “Gosh,” she laughed, as she came to a halt. “I can see you’re going to be a handful.”She examined her reflection once again. The moustache was dark—as dark as the deepest chasm, as black as the deepest despair. She nodded.“I probably should do something about my hair.”“Splendid moustache, madam,” said Mabel the hairdresser at Curl Up and Dye.“Thank you,” said Geneviève. The moustache twitched slightly and the
*Fat Cat*Midnight prowler, needing snack. Mouse hunter.Delice194120.11.14
I Win!It was a massive struggle that had been ongoing for quite some time; there had seemed to be no reprieve from the onslaught of trial and error, fault and failure, wins and many, many losses. One after another, her forces and fallen victim to the opposing commander. And she could do nothing but watch as yet more of her numbers were dropped into the netted trenches like so many pounds of refuse.The opposing captain stood upon the battlefield, weapon bared against her chest threateningly. Short tail blowing in the brutal wind, wolfish ears lay flat against her skull in an openly threatening display. Her pale lip was curled in a snarl that held death on its wings. Everything about her seemed intimidating, from the stance of her feet to the set of her shoulders.The fox-woman opposing her stood proud, attempting to hold onto the ground slipping out from beneath her feet. Her own weapon was at the ready in her firm grasp and with that she lead onward, refusing to kowtow in the presence of th
MERCILESSKick 'em'fore they die.
60 For 60: The Three Gables (2)A/N: Yours faithfully, Mary Maberley… Mary the maid heard the noise…My thoughts recently had been on Mary—the life we might have had together. And as if reading my mind a letter arrived, filled with tactful concern and inviting me to on a visit to Sussex.I found my explanation in the postscript:In your latest story, my dear fellow, you gave both mistress and maid the same charming pseudonym.
Quid? Minime!Estne puer molestus magna arbor?Quid?
Poor PeterPerfect Peter Parker purloined pretty Penelope's precious pet porcupine Petunia.Pretty Penelope's precious pet porcupine Petunia pricked perfect Peter Parker's proboscis.Perfect Peter Parker's proboscis pained profusely.Poor Peter!