Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found his way back through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life.
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A Scientific Lie
A Scientific Lie
We now live above the earth, above where we were once born.
The government has forced our very existence to be separated from the flowers,
from the soils of our planet. Only a special group, the SST's, Special Supply
Teams, are allowed to go down to earth, beneath the clouds. They go to gather
supplies for our now floating world. We float above the clouds in domes, in
self weather generated cities and landscapes.
We know the weather before it ever arrives, no disasters
come, no droughts, no struggle to keep things in order. As citizens though, we
are not allowed to grow, nor plant our own seeds. We must purchase specialty
seeds from local government owned shops. They say they are organic and
naturally found from earth. But they grow unexpectedly fast. They say the
plants grow in a steady fast pace due to the great weather conditions.
But still I find this to be odd. For my father’s tells me of
a time when his dad lived on earth and the government wished for everyone to
farm their own foods and grow them from scratch. To create self-sustainability.
And how some seeds would take weeks, even months to grow fully mature. But now
they wish us to follow stiff guidelines. I have never seen any animals that we
used to eat, in person, for all our our meats are artificial. The government
does not allow for the slaughter of animals of any kind. We are allowed to own
pets though, like dogs, cats, and pigs.
I have seen plenty of animals on TV, but it would be great
to see what they look like in person. And we are not allowed create our own
channels on TV, like we used to before this, at least that's what I am told.
That we used to have hundreds of channels, of privately made shows. Now all our
shows are government owned and we are taxed on the service of TV. Whether we
watch it or not, we must pay for it at the end of the year.
I do wonder sometimes
what animals might even taste like. But, if we were ever caught with actual
animal meat, we would be sent to prison. These living conditions, though I am
young, feel unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and almost wrong.
I have never even seen the surface of the earth from above
the clouds. They say because of our once harsh treatment of the world. The
clouds never vanish due to too much carbon or something in the air. I am not exactly
sure because what we are taught about earth and what we did, never seems
completely clear. Every time I am in school I feel like something is off, as if
I am being told a tale.
And every time I ask for more detail, the teacher dodges my
question with some strange illogical answer. Any time I turn in a paper that
questions our newly designed life, which I might add is only forty years young.
It comes back with no grade and I have to redo it. I am the only one that seems
to question what is going on.
Even the air up here, my father says is stale and strangely
resembles the air of a congested city. But me, being born into this I know not
of what air truly feels like. Everything is artificial here. Or at least
filtered from what it used to be. There is this eerie feeling of nothing, like
everyone around me is a zombie.
One of my goals though, after finishing school is become an
agent of the SST. So, I can explore and see the world below us. Sorry I am so
scattered in this journal entry, but it’s my last week of school before I do
actually graduate. I have so many thoughts rushing through my mind. Excitement
fills my heart to the brim. It has become difficult to even sleep.
I have put in my application for the SST, which consists of
two years in schooling and you must have great aptitude in science. And so far,
I have gotten B+ and above on all my science projects and assignments.
But a few I had to redo, because they said they went against
the school’s codes of research. Whatever that really means, I do not know. But
any ways, I have to go. I'll be back at the end of the week to let you know how
graduation goes and if I get accepted to SST program.
I do not have much time to explain, I was not excepted to
the SST group. I was denied and almost locked up in jail. But I escape from The
Peoples Order Services before they had a chance. Otherwise known as what used
to be the police.
For after my denial
to the SST, I wrote a letter asking why. After not getting a response, I
decided to do some digging. I have been on the run for a little over a year
after my escape, for I have found much information. Information that our living
conditions ore a lie. That the earth below us is and always was safe.
The SST is just a cover up, they are a team that reports to
those that live on earth, which is the government. And all those who allied
with them. We are the only country that lives above the clouds. We were told
the world was wiped out upon a massive natural disaster and disease, that could
have been stopped or at least slowed down. But, I have seen earth, I had snuck
my way onto a cargo ship the SST was using.
Once we landed I followed the team. The moment the bay doors
open from the ship. They removed their protective gear and outside the
bay-doors, is earth. Filled with beautiful greens and land that looks almost
endless. I then snuck onto their vehicle, following them we arrived at a massive
city alongside an ocean, a real ocean. Great beaches lined the ocean with
golden sands and warm air. Their air smelled of sea, but not like the sea air
we have. This air is fresh, uplifting and fills your lungs without a strange
I do not have much time to finish this, it won’t be long
till they find my signal in the back of their vehicle. But it is all a lie,
there are still cities and thousands of people living here. I must toss out my
PCText device and hope to find another way to communicate.
Here, in front of me stands a mirror. Its gleams with pristine cleanliness as I drag my eyes faithfully along its edges. Wondering, what purpose does it truly have, is this but another view of what I am?
Searching Is Not The Answer
I retract my eyes from its edges allowing sullied breath to sink into my lungs. I release this breath with an odd sense of curiosity as breath settles upon the mirror. Now, with breath upon this mirror, I watch, as it fades almost instantly. As if disdained upon my presence. Only to leave in an almost translucent outline upon the glass.
And again, my thoughts wander upon the condensation of my breath. And in watching it fade, I ponder, with intellectual eagerness , am I but not a breath from the universe, from God? Slowly fading upon the reaction of molecules and the designers final stroke of the brush.
Am I not but a reflection of what another has drawn, for what naturalism can create such perfection mixed with such disaster? Playing upon the good and bad…
The Scar of War And His Suicide To Escape It
He returned with a heavy heart. With a fierce storm raging in rain, thunder, and dark clouds. Memories of war collided beneath his chest. His lost brothers he could feel in the very bones of his soul. Nothing felt the same in this place he called home.
No words could describe the surmountable anguish that tore each second at his mind, creating a vast chasm. Loneliness slowly consumed him. Leaving him branded as a mental case, coming unhinged to reality. Drowning in the constant flavor of hops. Leaving no moment to be sober. Covering the storm with another, that if the fog became to thick to see, then his pain did not exist.
Flooded with anxiety of what he left behind in the chaos of war. He could not escape the nagging of all the thoughts he prayed to forget. Tarnished he felt, guilty, burdened, he felt far from a hero. Though each friend, each member of his family embraced him as one.
And on each night of his return, he sat at that foot o…
A Moment In the Middle East
A scorching sun canvasses the grounds. Flesh becomes its victim, sweat pours with no end. As if envious in seeking air. Eyes watchful of the distant, heads on a swivel. Hearts race in anticipation, crowds walk as adrenaline pumps.
The smell of gun powder stifles the nose. Tight grips upon steel, chambered brass. Sands flood the lungs, faces smeared in exhaustion. Thirst grips the throat, thoughts of home fumble the mind. Focus, focus, focus.
Distant shots, a setting sun, strange beauty comes to life. Barren lands seeping in anger, pointless in attempt to save. Lost, young, raged in empty hours of this land. Brothers shoulder to shoulder, but for what?
The eyes become useless as night arises from its chambers. Stars shower the blackened sky, the moon flaunts its elegance. Eerie becomes the view, shadows dancing between street lights and stars. Wind gusts with a warm kiss.
Now hues of green become the view. Skewed in perception but eyes trained in this moment…