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
When Stupidity Acts as a Driving ForceMy gramps bought a car this week. Why an 80-year-old man needs a new Impala is beyond me. At least it was something pratical. I was wholeheartedly expected him to take us to a Porche dealership. That's right, us. He had my brother and I come along with him to buy the thing. I guess he wanted an audience for his achievement. How buying an Impala is an achievement I do not know, but I did know he would be buying lunch, so I didn't fight it."What time do we need to be there? Should we get going?" My brother said that. He said it from the other while on the couch, watching TV. He wasn't even ready, why did he even bother asking?"I don't know, we have be there to meet with a man named Barry," gramps replied. He didn't know. He should have known."Well, what time is Barry going to be there?" My duties as problem sovler began early that day."He said something about after noon.""Okay, it's 1:42 now. How long is he goin
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
60 For 60: The Mazarin Stone (2)A/N: “Madame Tussaud ain't in it. It's the living spit of him…”Holmes and Watson were attending the unveiling of their likenesses at Madame Tussaud’s. On a broiling summer’s day.“It’s like a furnace,” whispered Watson.Holmes sighed. “Indeed.”The covering was whipped away and there was a shocked intake of breath from the audience.“Oh, dear,” said Watson, staring at the waxworks. “Holmes, I appear to have melted into your arms.”
*Fat Cat*Midnight prowler, needing snack. Mouse hunter.Delice194120.11.14
60 For 60: The Illustrious Client (2)A/N: “…a [wo]man of personality can use hypnotism without any vulgar passes or tomfoolery.”“Using hypnotism! Completely immoral,” muttered Holmes.“Indeed,” murmured Mrs. Hudson. “Mr. Holmes, will you be performing any… noxious experiments tonight?”“I was but…” Holmes yawned.“You are feeling sleepy?”Holmes frowned. “Mrs. Hudson—have you been performing your own experiment?”“No, sir! Surely you can tell I am speaking the truth.” Mrs. Hudson leant forwards. “Just look into my eyes…”
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!