Micah Park Biffle

 A Fathers Revenge  The ocean sits idle as I creep along this sandy coast. The castles highest peak breaches the clouds like a mountain. It is an intimidating and wonderful site, but much evil falls from the walls of this castle. As I near the closest point of the beach at the base of the castle, I can feel an ominous touch caress my surroundings.  I feel my bones chill and my skin percolate with goosebumps. Even my horse, reacts with strange and unusual nuances. I grip her rein tightly to calm her with a few gentle strokes across the bridge of her head.   After a bit, she calms down. I then look her in the eyes and I can still see something is frighting her. But she is now doing her best to stay calm and listen. After the ominous touch, we approach the very base of the castle.   Looking up, I can no longer see the top of the tower anymore. The clouds cover what was once visible. My view blocked, I remove the hook shot from my back...

Another For The Thin Blue Line  It was a another day, another morning; a routine. But today, of all days, on the day of his daughters ninth birthday everything changed. Where there was light, darkness swelled. Where smiles leaped, tears fell. Where the sun rose, death reared its head. Peering over the hearts of this loving family. Darkness grinned with jubilation where light wept with grief. The unwanted voice of tragedy struck and hell became the home in which this family lived. On the morning of September 1, 2001, at 3:45 am, before most wake and before the streets flood with aluminum cages concealing their masters; an officer, by the name of Peter Gell was tragically murdered. He had pulled over a vehicle that had been driven by at an excessive speed, thirty over the limit. Its windows too tinted to see inside. Officer Gell, had been a police officer for nearly twelve years. After serving four years in the military. He had a wife and daughter, Katie and Julie. His ...

The Praise of The Wicked He has lied for so long it has become his truth. Creating power, creating wealth with such a tongue of deceit. Smirking between the acts of his crimes as he slides through the bars. Yet, he is praised for his so called gracious endeavors and his accolades of triumphant change. Slithering beneath the grass he has grasped the ankles of his followers, sinking his fangs with precision. Poisoning their thoughts, their freedom with hypocrisy, fraud, and the keen ability of a silver tongue. Upon his pedestal he walks with a darkly sheen, as if something unworldly. As he ensnares the weak with bountiful dishonesty. With deceptive hatred toward his enemy, using the feeble as fodder for his tricks. His inevitable plan to be sly, powerful, and filthy to world, but be lacking in consequence.  Engaging in the atrocious behind closed doors. Generating his wealth through the arms of our enemies and giving no heed to the fallout that shall be. He lives i...

The Dusted Years  The fields went bare, the oceans calm and the air thick with dust. Crops were buried in the depth of earths cough. It appeared as if death had showered its breath upon the once marvelous existence of man. Hunger struck the every belly that walked the lonely paths. Hands that sewed the fields now cry out into the dusted air. Faces ragged of despair and fear, depression sulked the very heart of everything. Men struggled to provide, women lost touch in the nurturing. The world flipped upside. As if the gods were in the mood to shake the earth in the curiosity of experiment. Laughter was little, frowns were in heavy supply and pain was given for free. Children clung to the neck of each breath; as any form of sustenance was only convenient to those in the embrace of bureaucracy. Or those that salvaged their future before it ever arrived. The teething need to survive sprung a leak in the bowels of crime. Many came crawling to its rising stench. Seeing the...