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Showing posts from February, 2019

Severed Filament

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 Severed Filament 
  We were something or so I wish to say. But I know we were but a momentary filament. A connection quickly severed by timing. An unwilling heart to expose itself sat shivering beneath my chest. I swallowed every ounce of fear as if an antidote for disease.

  Shortly lived were we. Our light dimmed by insecurities. Our hearts never to spark a lasting light. Doomed from the start. I fumbled the bulb and upon my ribs it broke. Shattering to the bleak hallows of my thoughts. A swamp seeping with pity as if sadness will attract is an attraction for love.

  What heart desires the weak? What heart desires the glum of a lonely soul? None, and those that stand preaching they do. Are merely looking for pity to fix that which lies within their own skin. But deny the remedy to heal.

   Their hearts always given to another, never to please themselves. They walk with eyes lethargic to beauty. Clambering to fill a void with more sadness. Sadness till they can speak no more, there …

Alec and the Unexpected Beast

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Alec and the Unexpected Beast
 The ocean is calm, the morning fog settles thick as the tide is receded into the distance. Young Alec is out collecting seashells to bring back to his mother, so she can make decorations for the home. As Alec collects shells, he sees something poking from the earth.

 It looks as if a Dorsal fin sticking from what appears to be a shallow pool of water. Alec, with his curiosity he ventures toward the object. On his way he collects shells he thinks his mom will like. He places them gently in a satchel his mother made by hand. Its hand sewn fabric is worn from the many adventures of shell collecting. You can see shells piercing the lining of the satchel.

 Alec reaches near the possible dorsal fin. As he approaches he keeps his eyes on it as he places one more shell in the satchel. The cold air becomes more frigid as Alec nears the foreign object. Nearing it, he decides to place down his satchel of shells a couple yards from it.

 Alec then takes the required …

A Fathers Twist for Love

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 A Fathers Twist For Love
  The old man sinks his teeth into the bloody stake. His jaw moves slowly as age has taken to this old mans body. He sits alone as his somber face looks to an empty seat. His hair slicked back, his glasses sitting snug upon his face.

  He wears a black tie and a black suit. Appearing as if from a funeral. As I sit from my table I watch  with a strange feeling of sadness. I know nothing of this old man, but he sits alone, challenging himself with each motion.

  His frail body postures in a slump as I assume his bones are not longer a concern of his. As he sits chewing his steak he places down his fork and reaches into his suit pocket. From it he pulls out a rose, with a stem no longer that of a finger.

  On the other end of the table sits an empty glass and other dining amenities. He carefully stands up and starts to walk, doing his best not to strain himself. Each step is merely inches, his hand reaches out with the rose and as he makes it to the other side o…

No Remedy Love

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No Remedy Love 
 Upon my horse I ride, I ride through the dense woods of Willows Path. Past the tombs of the Barely family and through the trails of Hallows Peak. Treacherous be this ride but everything depends upon it. My wife is deathly ill and winter is at the cusp of the mountains.

  Soon we shall be blanketed by snow up to our thighs. Winds so unforgiving will rush upon the valley like a cold plague. The hairs upon your body will freeze beneath the falling rains if so you dare to walk bare into the wild.

  So I ride, I ride with determination and fear at my back. I ride with my eyes adjusted to the stars and my heart to faith. It has been two days and the doctor is only another days ride. How frightful be this Christmas eve.

  Unfortunate be this day, a day of deathly tribulation. But I will not give up on my love. I will not let her soft voice be taken by ill will of sickness. I refuse with my boiling chest of grit to allow the suffering of my love to continue.

  It would be vil…

Ascending Death

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Ascending Death 
  With fiery eyes I wake, aching bones and a creaking soul. A lonely moment but I breathe. I hear the voices, they speak. Their soft wisps of conclusion to who I should be. To what I should do. They trample about my head like beasts through jungles.

  And in this lonely moment I rage to fight them though my heart be weak. Though the thunderous roars of my voice have become soft, I still stand. I climb this mountain though the plunge could be deadly. These quivering bones are not my enemy.

 This drowning heart is not my weakness and this feverish mind is not mine. It has been taken and I shall reclaim it. I have traveled these forsaken roads long enough and my eyes can see. They burn the frozen herds of devils.

 Their eyes following like eyes of cats. Keeping watch as I stumble through thickets, sands, glaciers, and worlds of ghastly pain. But I burn through their cold stare with fervor as the taste of life dangles at my tongue.

 Tasting, I can feel its glory taint the…

Hard Work Lost

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Hard Work Lost 
  How easy it is, to lose it all. To have your hard work stricken from existence with a simple press of a button. Oh, how I sometimes miss those days of the typewriter, of ink and pen. But those days have sadly gone and went.

 We are now digital, where everything is permanent, yet not. All could be lost by the massive inception of a virus. Corrupting every picture, every word, every video you ever took, written, or saw. Anything and everything up in smoke. Or rather ripped apart into ones and zeros.

  But we must not become fools to our wretched existence that is often held with beauty. We must not let the fallback's, the tribulations of disaster be our guide for emotion. Rather, look at these deletions, these corruptions of work, these ashes of hard work.

  As a lesson to be more careful, a lesson to grow more patient. Learn to persevere when others fall to disaster. We are not perfect and no matter how diligent you work to become, there will always be fatal flaws…

Sophia's Love

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 Sophia's Love 
  "Let your umbrella unfold, dance beneath the rain when others won't shelter you with the echoes of love my dear." Her mother said as she kissed her upon the forehead.

  Sophia looking up at her mother smiles as she holds her pink umbrella above her head. Her mother, raising up from the kiss takes Sophia by the hand and they begin to walk. Sophia, only five and her father off on a business trip, her mother becomes lonely.

  And so they walk, they walk through evenings, mornings, dusk's and dawns. Watching the graceful colors of sunsets and sunrises. Sophia's mother teach's her to admire the colors before them. Not just the wonderful vibrant colors, but also the dull. The gloomy streaks of darkness.

  For everything has a purpose in this world. From the thunder storms to clear skies. Sophia, holding her mother's hands as they walk through the rain looks and up and asks, "Mother, why do you cry? Do the colors of this clouded night …