Micah Park Biffle

  A Genius Held by Fear Therby is a man of science, of thoughts and genius. Every night he delves into his mind and plucks from it new ideas. He would plant each new idea onto paper. Quickly skimming through his mind like a comb through hair.  Every now and then something would stick. Something would become tangled in his mind. An idea that he would have to fight to pry from his entwined neurons. As they send an encrypted idea from all parts of his mind.  Shooting like a needle pricked upon the finger. On such ideas he would find himself lost from all others things. Lost from his daily errands, meetings, or any such other endeavor he would have. Many times, Therby would forget to arrive for doctor appointments for his treatments.  Treatments for his deteriorating body. He was diagnosed with Bright's Disease. The treatments given were opiates and the occasional blood letting. But Therby preferred finding himself enthralled in solving the idea that would ra...

A Cancer is No End  I'm cuffed, tied to reality. I am held to a strict limit of ability, today, that limit has been reached. Though I have no say in what happens next, I will not have idle hands nor an idle heart. I will be the stone from which you can stand on. Allowing a solid foundation, for I want you not to fall to the misery that has come forward. This tragedy is not the end, unless you wish it do be. Much more is to come, but only if you fight, if we fight. If we take in our breathes as if they are our last and charge. Taking aim at life and allowing the growing of flowers. Creating a theme of faith and turning it to reality. Bringing forth good fortune to the mind and casting our the filth that wishes to cloud you. I can only image the fear that is tempted your heart now. Crooked like branches from a wild tree. Springing from the belly of doubt as they rise from your soul. Slowly constricting your hope. But this will not be, for we will prune, cut, severe, era...

A Silent Killer  It has been sixty-three days and I have seen not a single living soul. The country has become desolate, bodies lay like scattered piles of trash. The rotting stench of flesh smears the air, it's difficult to breathe. I have yet to get used to the smell, or maybe, I am used to it but refuse to let it go. What ever the consequence of the smell may be, the air is not only rotten, but harsh. You must wear something over your face in order to obtain even a fraction of filtered air. If not, your lungs feel as if they are on fire. No one knows the cause of this massacre, not even the origin at which it started. Everything seemed normal, then one day, everything turned to chaos. After twenty-four hours the country was in mass hysteria. People were dropping dead, children were alone on the streets. Many watched as their parents suffered horrific deaths, at the hand of what ever caused this. Children appear to be more resistant to it than adults to whatever this ...

A Plague  I woke, gripped in the cold grasp of a nightmare. My lungs pulsating in the hunger for air as my mind played games in the shadows. My heart quaking in the frightful gloom of my ghastly dream. But as I woke, a strange tickle lingered in my throat. I began to cough uncontrollably, as if I was plagued with the unsightly sickness of tuberculosis. I have not been sick in over a year. I have had my yearly check ups and am highly active in my health. I found it extremely odd.  So upon my waking I took heed to the coughing and quickly got dressed. I was fighting tooth and nail to keep back the cough the best I could. But I couldn't, it was quite the struggle for me to get dressed. It felt as if my body was trying to resist the act of clothing myself. Once I was dressed, I rushed out the door hailed a taxi and boarded it. In between my manic coughing, I removed my arm from my mouth and told the driver where to go. He immediately placed on a doctors mask and ...