smilemyloveforitisonlynight Smile, My Love, For It Is Only Night He remembered, and wept: Her pale blue eyes stared at him, cold, glassy, unforgiving. She was leaving; she had already told him that. So he didn't see any reason not to open his mind to her, to tell her that she had hurt him, and to tell her how weak and pathetic she was, and to tell her that he didn't need her, not in this life, not in any. And she stared at him with her cold, wet blue eyes. Those pale blue eyes. And he thought back, and wept: She sat under the tree, so lovely, so wonderful, and he sat there with her, and he smiled, and she smiled. He liked the way that she smelled when she
Prometheus the Messenger Prometheus the Messenger In a way, he was glad that it wouldn't happen any more; that this was the last time and nothing else would mar his thoughts. He had lived through it for so long that it was almost nice to finally have a break. He was almost glad that it was all over, and now he wouldn't have to come out here anymore, wouldn't have to lie to his wife about the "meetings," wouldn't have to miss Bryan's birthday or concert or play. He could always be there for them now. And he hated lying. It always reminded him…of… John Spiegel kept his eyes on his hands for the entire ride to the factory. He didn't trust himself to look up, t
Kuala War The wars had gone on for years. The superior leaders from the south had battled the never ending supply of Kualons for years, and nothing seemed to be stopping the hordes anymore. The Southern Kuolons ran in terror from the suicide bombings and the burnings - whole towns were leveled in less than an hour. There was nothing they could do anymore. Either they would accept the harsh leadership of the North, or they would flee. So, they would flee. But they would do so with surprise on their side. The Northerners would never let them pass. They needed the Southerners. Their agricultural production was legendary. And
Trainways The sky was all pain and light, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. I was sitting in some kind of train station, and I was having pains in my left arm, which always scares me. I was sitting there alone, watching all the pretty school girls walk by, wishing I was a little better off, wishing papa had been a wealthy businessman instead of an old carpenter who died too early in my life for me to remember his face. The birds sang one cacophonous melody after another, and, white on white, the train (train?) pulled into the station. It was massive, the cars stretching from one end of long to the other. I sat an
Death is a Harsh Mistress The chips fall off the table, and the man across from me scrambles to pick them up. I left the knife in the other room, so I'll have to do this the hard way. He's reaching for the last chip now, so I kick him in the face. He didn't see that coming. He falls on his back and I kick him again, this time in the stomach. He's crying; I can see the tears raining down his face. He's afraid. He doesn't want to die. He has so much to finish. I feel sorry for him. I know how he feels. But this is the way it has to be. I lean down and brush the hair out of his face. Without the broken nose, he is quite a handso
Sometimes Girls I stare into your eyes, and they're crystal glass. I laugh. They have always struck a chord in me. I have always loved your eyes. I often ask you - half-jokingly - if I can have them when you're dead. You usually just laugh me off. I smile and you laugh and the matter is over. But last night. You said yes last night, didn't you? And so I hold your hand and smile at your smiling eyes, eyes that smile for the rest of you. The rest of you that can't smile. And I think. How to get your eyes out of your head without damaging them. Ah! If I'm careful...yes, there they are. I always thought that penda
Flowers Marygold sat in silence, waiting for the hangman, waiting for the axe to fall. She was scared and she was cold, though she was pressed close to all of her people. They were all frightened, even the elders, Dahlia and Iris, Lily and Hydrandia. She turned her head to the wind and listened. She could hear the screams of those that were already dying. She could see the death-bringers, huge and silent. She wouldn't cry; she was done crying. She was done and she wouldn't start again now. She thought back to
breakoutthechinesesilverware i lost him in the fog. he was there one minute, and then he was gone. damnit. i'd bee following him for twenty minutes, and he was mine, right there in my hand. god, it would have been so easy! all i had to do was pull the trigger, but... but i couldn't. what if he was innocent? what if i had bagged the wrong guy? what if i killed some guy with a wife and kids, some guy who was only lost on his way home? what if i knocked off a guy who put his kids to bed every night with a bedtime story and a kiss and a preemptory check for monsters under the bed? what if this guy came home to his wife and...and just fe
Your Eyes your eyes…i can't see them anymore…those eyes, blue to the point of grayso that the rolling gods of thunder riotand the heat lightning flashesto see something so storm drivenwithout themi don't think they have purpose nowand to burn without a soulis the last way outfor the wickedcause even they can't seeyouyour eyesto bring forth a thousand heroesto this battlefieldwhere no lifewas givenbut yoursand minei can't see your eyesbelieve methey are beautiful
Moonrun: Prelude I distrust the moon. It stares at me much too much. I sit and think what it would be like to sit in complete darkness, no obnoxious moon, peaking its head into other people's business; no peeping-tom silver dollar staring through my window at night. I often dream. I often dream of days when there is no sun. On the whole, I have found a lack of sun much more frightening and dismal state of being than one might think, being that I am a fairly nocturnal person who only enjoys the day time under the veil of storm clouds. But, on the whole, I could easily do without the moon. The moon, you see, has no purpose. You could argue t
Iced Koolaide The mirror is broken…and on its side. It's been like that for…a day…two…too long. Haha! Two? Too long? That's funny… Maybe I should pick the mirror up. I think it's broken. The house is getting cold. I think winter might be coming. I'm not sure. I haven't been outside for so long…it's getting cold. Did I say that? The mirror's broken. The pieces lie on the cold floor, a million shining corpses against the dirge of the furnace and the washing machine. They're foggy. Hehe! Foggy…that word makes me giggle. My feet hurt. Is it winter? It's getting colder. My shoes split in the summer, and I took them off t
Scarecrow The field was long and yellow, but then all the fields around these parts were long and yellow. People passed by on the slowly widening dirt road that ran between them without so much as a second glance. These fields had been dry and yellow for so long that the farmers who tried to raise their crops in this god-forsaken wasteland had all but forgotten what a real harvest was. Blades swung and farmhands grunted and sweated and worked away afternoons with hardly anything but aching backs and hard, calloused hands to show for it. This field was no different than the others: long and yellow. And nigh on barren. The scarecrow had sat th
Blind I can feel the wind on my face. And if I could see you still, you would know. But I can't. So, I'll keep trying. Even though it's no use. I miss you. Last night I opened an old box of candy that had been lying on the floor for a month and a half. I could smell you on it, and it was hard, for a moment, to open it. My finger caught and my eyes froze into tear drops. I get so frustrated. The candy looked like a hundred years, and I miss you. I wish you were here. I took the candy downstairs for my parents to eat because the candy was still good, and I didn't want it. I'm never hungry anymore. And
Hope Hope is greasedand to the point where Hopeloses splendorin hindsighti think it might havebeena mistaketo Hopeand maybe it always iscause i can't find no Hope no more
Infidelity Don't talk to me likeI don't understand,Like my fatherDidn't love me and I can't imagineWhat it's like to come from aNormal LovingFamily.You misunderstand what I'm tryingTo say.It's not that I don't love you.It's not that IThink that youDon't love me.It's that when the light goes outAnd we lie in the dark,I can'tTell when you're asleep.You always lieSo still,And I am left To wonderWhen I can get upTo let the dog inRight under your nose,Whether you wouldWake up,And whyI should careIf you do.
Inquisition What is going on?Why am I so tired?Do I have a disease?Am I going to die?
Onion Juice ONION JUICE It takes two and a half seconds for the angry onion peel to slap the floor. He must get this done by five, or his wife and his kids will be gone. The knife takes point three two seconds to slide out of the wooden holder, and another 3 seconds to position itself over the onion. The onion is obstinate. It takes the knife up to two seconds per slice to cut the onion. He has to stop half way through; the onion juices are making his eyes water. It takes him a tenth of a second to put his fingers to his eyes, and two point three seconds to run to the sink. The onion juiced on his hands. He's near blind. It takes one
Sta.sh
