Micah Park Biffle

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 comforta...

   A Morning Hell    Time is running out, the bomb has only ten minutes left, what do we do?"  Says Jermaine as he looks to the weave of wires.  With his weapon in hand and keeping eye down the hall way from the exit of the room, Cash responds, "I don't know...I don't know."   Jermaine, staring at the bomb with beading sweat he looks over at their downed friend Cruise, his lifeless body lay slumped against the wall with his back. His head settled into his chest as blood dries from a wound just below his heart.  Jermaine looks back at the bomb, it's time ticking away, counting down their lasts breathes. Jermaine, rushes over to Cruises body and looks for the bomb diffuse manual, a small manual with overall tips for certain explosive designs.   Jermaine fumbling through Cruises body, "Maybe there is something on that stupid manual Cruise had." Wiping away sweat he reaches into Cruises left chest pouch and finds t...

  The Wretched   I hear them knocking on the door, their voices acting in kindness. But I know their intentions their wants. Their need to calm their craving of this false way. They are putrid to our earth, rodents that feast upon the feeble and spread disease of our touch.   I can feel them, their cold empty presence, just as I. But I did not bow to the corruption. The naive lies of their power. And now here we stand, me against them. Me against my own, how odd. How unsightly that we have drove ourselves into this.  Into this chaos all for the sake of their incessant need to be all. To be the deciders of the world. They were once nothing, just as I. We were once the subtle voices in the night that preyed only upon those who wished for such. Who approached us with peace.   But now, now we are vermin loitering the streets with our madness. Our corrupt fever of existence. I can smell them, I can smell them as I smell blood. Their tongues cove...

   Darlene's Summer Heat   Ninety-five degrees and the humidity is sticking like spit. Darlene's fan is quickly spinning, but its motor gives out a spurt and ceases. A short grinding of gears as if a final scream before death. Darlene, held in the grasp of copious sweat rolls slightly over to the fan from her bed. She slaps the fan in hopes it will jolt it to life.  But there is no such luck. With her exhausted body from the relentless beating of the sun, she slowly sits up while uttering obscenities beneath her breath.  "Damn, fan...why in hell would you quick working now? You bastard, you pointless machine, now you're nothing more but a damn paper weight."   Sitting up in her bed, she slides her hands through her ruby hair and guides it to rest behind her head. With her hair behind her, she looks around her room as the sun blazes through the thin white curtains. "Why did I not buy darker curtains, this place is hell during the summer?"   ...

   Gorgkick The Coward   Gorkick, the infamous writer of historical literature, walks down our muddied roads with his embellished belly. He walks as if he were a pig on two legs. His over sized mustache tickles his lower lip. Causing him to constantly wiggle his mouth from irritation. They say he grew it to help hide his hideous smile.   But I say he grows it to feel more like a man. For he is cowardly in his approach to the world before him. Sadly, he is our only hope of change and freedom. But his cowarding approval of himself leaves him wavering to the whim of our iron fist leader.   His eyes sink into his fat face like marbles pressed into fresh clay. They linger about our surroundings as we watch him walk. Investigating our village with little scrutiny as soldiers stand erect with weapons in hand. Following him like watch dogs, panting at the sight of our impoverished presence.   I follow carefully from a short distance. Keeping my pres...

  A Fading Wound,  A Warrior's Death   Old, most just pass him by. An era past, forgotten and left behind. The world spins without patience, without delay. Time, a ever ending creation lasting beyond death. And he sits, alone, atop a park bench.   Carefully listening to the chirping of birds. The soft distant chatter of passersby, as he feels the echoes of his fading thoughts. Memories long held in horror, visions of massacre, of impending demise at the eyes of the enemy.   His grey hair, covered in an old black hat, labeled with golden words. Sorrow rolls about his heart like a tumbling stone to the splitting of earth. He remains the last of those he loves, those brothers he held dear, in time of crises, in time of peace.   Friends that felt as he did, friends that knew of his scars. They too shared such wounds, silent and those of the visible. Shadows of anguish shower his face, his sinking skin slowly reaching to earth. A grave be his ...

The Gulags Reach     Sasha stands with a friend as she waits for her cousin to dismount the bus. Shoulder to shoulder her and her friend stand in the cold winter of Russia as it ensnares them. The sky is wide with blue but the streets are hugged in snow and busy bodies.   The bus arrives and Sasha grins widely with excitement. Her friends clasps to her arm as they share the energy of anticipation. A small crowd gathers around them as others wait with titillating excitement to receive their friends and family members.   People start to dismount and the crowd suddenly envelopes Sasha and her friend. It becomes difficult for them to see if her cousin has exited the bus. Sasha and her friend try to push through the crowd but they are met with resistance from other overly energetic bystanders. So they stay where they are bobbing up and down on their toes. Peering like meerkats  hoping to catch a glimpse of her cousin as she steps off the bus.   ...

   A Ruler by Fear Deep organs pour over the cold mid afternoon in ceremony of new rule, their maestros arched over keys with crooked backs. The clouds are heavy and winds howl as she takes up her crown. Her mind digests the scenery of her new found rule over the kingdom. Her eyes judge with passing malice as she looks to her people.   Her heart beats no more of subtle hints of power as she no longer needs to bare false innocence of a woman. She smiles as she relishes in the new found glory of command. Her loyal devotees of the priest hood stand beside her. Cloaks draped, faces hidden, but their dull grinning teeth find way from their shrouded presence.   Crimson flags hang with authority as she stands before them with her new shimmering crown. Three spikes of gold stand erect toward the sky upon the crown. The middle stands the highest with an eye of silver melded in the middle. The accompanied pair are evenly separated from the center. Both standing short...

An Audience Revolt    The audience has spoke and they are outraged. They have grown irate of the noxious lies. The endless attempts to run them dry, playing the audience as if fools. To bury them to the catacombs of fees, just to appease the actors. The famous seats of the world.  And now, the audience stands, booing with great indignation. Baring anger in hand, "Tear down the stage. Our lives mean nothing to them. They have taken us for jesters, for pockets to line theirs."  "They have taken from us our freedom to be. Slowly suffocating us with their entertainment to dull our senses. Keeping us in the dark as if the sun is no more."  The audience gathers in arms as the actors stare as if appalled. Blinded they say, for they wish only the audience pleasure. The angry crowd responds,  "But where does the pleasure come when not even the average can watch? Where does the fun live, when not even our hearts can bear a single day. What is our ent...