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That She May SeeI made the offer to my dead wife to use my eyes
to see her grand children grow up. Now every time
I see something I probably shouldn't, every time I
look to the darkness all I can think of is her eyes
looking 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 her
happiness wherever she may be as I look once more to
the 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 earth
as fire licks razor cuts upon my fine ideals to smoke
that stings my eyes and leaves a taste of burnt flesh
upon my tongue. Gods and devils lie
dead 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 shakes
I 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.
The Language of DanceGerald had been a bit anxious about going abroad on holiday to a country so far away. But he’d always wanted to see the place and he was determined to make the most of it. He’d practised the language for months until his legs ached and now, if perhaps not exactly fluent, he did have quite a vocabulary.
He’d been so nervous coming out of the hotel for the first time and seeing a couple coming towards him. But he’d done a little pirouette and they’d pirouetted back, and it was all fine. They’d maybe been smiling a little at his accent but they had understood what he meant and Gerald was thrilled.
Filled with confidence, he’d soon got the hang of going into shops and tap dancing with the assistants. In one establishment he’d got into a lovely conversation with one of his fellow shoppers—an elderly lady. They’d waltzed for nearly half an hour.
And now he was on his way back to the hotel after a delightful evening out. The opera ha
The Trouble with Tybalt “What light through yonder window breaks?
It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.”
“Beautiful,” whispered Splirda from the front row, dabbing a tissue to her eye with one of her many facial gnathopods. “He may be young, but I doubt there’s been such a moving performance since Lemon Nimrod originally took to the stage a thousand years ago.”
Splurg leaned forward, peering through his thick omnifocals. “I don’t get it,” he grumped. “Who’s that guy? What’s going on? Why is that battleturret made of plywood?”
Splirda sighed, exasperated. “That’s Romulo. He’s in deeply in love with Juliet, but they can’t be together because a Montagen and she’s a Capulet: Montag II is stuck in a bitter war with planet Capule, much to the consternation of the U
Where Seagulls Dare “There’s no escape, you know.”
Thomas put his head on one side, slapping the water out of his ear. “Sorry?”
“There’s no escape...from the island.” The heavily bearded man gave him a stare. “The same rocks that sank your vessel have defeated my every attempt at floating a raft.”
“Oh.” Thomas wasn’t sure exactly what one was supposed to say in this situation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“There’s food enough to get by here, if you don’t mind bitter roots, insects, sour berries. That’s almost the cruellest thing.” Beneath his stitched-leaf hat, his eyes gazed out to sea. “Compared with the open ocean, this place offers a fair chance of survival. But can it really be called living? Trapped here...on the island?”
That's the Third One This Week! “Mirror, mirror on the wall...”
There was a loud crash and a shower of fairy dust. The face in the mirror flickered briefly, a look of horror upon it, before being replaced by solid blue. The message, “Unhandled exception. Contact your Fairy Godmother or technical support group for further assistance,” appeared in the extreme top left corner.
“Oh, bloody Hell!” snapped Medusa, stamping her foot. “Now how am I supposed to find out who’s the fairest of them all?”
Runaway IronyTwenty minutes after finishing the documentary on New Zealand, Nicole had a plan worked out. She wrote it all down in gel pen, an itemised list of all the things she needed; then she got to work.
It wasn’t easy to convince the man in Bunnings to sell her nails, but she put on her best innocent face, and told him it was for her father’s garden shed. It wasn’t easy to convince the neighbour to let her have the old fence palings, either; nor the logs that had been earmarked for a bonfire, but a few hearty fibs and her best “I just want to help my daddy” smile went a long way to convincing them.
Two weeks later, she had bruised hands, a lot of knowledge about how not to use a hammer, and what she hoped would pass for a half-decent raft. She packed herself a bag with some clothes and spare underwear, then packed another bag, this one larger and wheeled, with as much canned food as she could carry. Before she left, she remembered to grab the can op
Rebranding the Black Throne “Thank you...erm...very much for coming here.” The Dungeon Lord wasn’t accustomed to being polite. “I realise this place is...some would say it’s a little out of the way.”
“Well,” said the interior designer, “I suppose it helps to keep undesirables out.”
“Ah.” The Dungeon Lord raised a begauntleted finger. “Funny you should mention that. You see, while obviously any normal person would consider the rusty iron spikes, booby traps, whips, shackles and torture devices to be a deterrent, I’ve recently had a slew of visitors who mistook my little setup here for something...” he leaned down and cupped a hand to the interior designer’s ear, “...erotic.”
“Oh.” The designer raised his eyebrows. “I see.”
“Now, I don’t want to do anythin
Wedding WailsIn the places at the bottom of the sea, there are whole worlds to explore. Atlantis, for example, or the clusters of shipwrecks found in the Bermuda Triangle. This story takes place in one such unexplored territory, though it is neither of those mentioned.
After countless discussions, everything, from the decorations to the refreshments, had been organised to the finest detail. It was going to be a perfect wedding, the kind that all who attended would remember for all time. The musicians, relatives of the bride, would sing their glorious songs; pieces of phosphorous coral tastefully brightened the seafloor, and someone had, very thoughtfully, strewn the aisle with cuttlefish pieces. It was beautiful.
The bride herself was also beautiful, though she swam in anxious circles while her friends and bridesmaids reassured her. "You're gorgeous," they trilled. "So perfect," they sang. "There's never been a more lovely spermwhale."
The groom kept pace, nervously, beside the pastor as the br
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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