Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found in understanding of my self 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. (I AM SLOWLY MOVING OF BLOGGER< FOR NEW STORIES PLEASE CLICK THE "MEDIUM" LINK TO THE LEFT)
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Lies Blew up Our Planet
Lies Blew up Our Planet
I watched as it all erupted like clay tossed against stone. Piece by piece, the world was flung into the far reaches of space. My capsule was one of the last to have launched. I was only eight at the time. But I will never forget the feeling. Though I was young to the world and had a very short time; of even a morsel of what the world truly was.
It felt as if a part of me had been ripped from my chest. I can still remember the colors that world presented us. It was a bold array of showered hues. Even in the most harsh of environments you could find something to awe the eyes and heart.
All those shows on TV that explored the world and brought it to our living rooms was astounding. So much to be seen and so little time to enjoy it. Sadly, my time was much shorter than many thanks to ever greedy needs of those who wished us no ability to advance.
We were sunk back to almost the 21st century.
I remember all the commercials and news that would speak poorly of our existence, rather than find solutions. They thought us better off, than with the planet. Even at my young age I found it odd that there were those who wished us dead. To just hand the world over to the creatures that are spoken of as things of pure innocence.
It became a world comprised of endless need to please that which can give nothing back to us. To please things that give no more care for their own than us. It was disgusting times and now, they are even worse or, rather the same.
I remember as I watched the world explode into a million shards from our capsule window from five hundred miles away as my mother pulled me from the winodow, she said, "Don't look dear, we did not deserve it in the first place."
Right there, in that moment, what she said, drew a strange thought in my head. One I could not comprehend at the time. But now I can, "We should give the world to those creatures that can bring no change, but now we care not that the world is gone and those creatures with it?"
It was an instant one-eighty, I realized that a majority of the people from that world, were more concerned about appearances of their thoughts than their words, their actions.
As the capsule flew further and further away and as my mother pulled me further from the window. I cried, but I cried silently. For there were things I would never experience nor understand about how we got where we are now.
For much of the information that could have saved our world. Was lost in a flood, a flood we had known was coming for a month. But again, the need for appearances over truth was more important. I can't begin to explain what I am learning now.
I work at the prison now on our new planet. I guard the most "ruthless" people the world had ever known. People that grew up on our planet before it blew up. We call them, "The Interference." When I first started working here, I had great resentment toward these people.
We were told they were the reason we fell behind, that they were the reason we are where we are now. That their hate drove us to our own extinction from the planet. But every time I asked exactly what they did, I was quickly pelted with singular words and vague answers.
But the longer I work here, the more I learn about what truly happened. Each of these prisoners has a story, some even have files hidden in their chambers. How they got them there, I do not know? I am just a new guy still. Only six months in and we only get new recruits once a year, that's if there is room for new recruits.
But as I dig deeper and deeper into how we are formed now. The more I see our move from the gorgeous world that we had before. To this massive dismal, barely habitable planet. I see it was an endless game of fraudulent exploitation of the worlds own people and of those that truly wanted to help.
It was a finite game of lies which still continues, and death is the penalty for exposing any lies of ruling.
If we do leave our planet, where do you think we will end up and why?
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr
The Choice of History There lies an entrance, a red door to a place far different from any other. Where magic is real, time is alive, but love is dead. It is a place of desolation and pain. A place where blood flows from rivers and mountains are built of death. It is a place so horrible, the door has been sealed shut. Locked for all eternity, a place once flourished with bountiful colors, a place where ever growing thoughts and wonder once pranced like dear through meadows. But like anything, there comes a time of destruction. Where city floors were leveled, trees were chopped, and hope was a lost. A time when everything ran its course and something new must take its place. A time when death lives and life is but a drip of water falling from a distant cloud. But not all is lost, though the entrance is locked, hidden from the eyes. It can be found by the heart, by the vision of faith. It can be brought from its slumbering chambers if only one dares to find it. To l