Micah Park Biffle

The Doctors Motive    The cold lights of the operation room ominously fall from the ceiling. I feel them collapse upon me with such a somber feel. As I stare between the glowing lights I begin too feel my legs become numb as they administer the injection.   The doctor and nurse peer over my face as they look down on me. There blue medical masks obscuring their faces as a dull haze of a halo mists from behind their heads. My eyes start to become heavy.  The nurses face fades from my view as the doctor continues to look at me, his eyes as still as the moon. He blinks a few times and says, "Count down from one hundred."   I start to count and as I do I feel a sudden penetration of a cold shiver take my body. But with the injection I feel no motion of shiver. A tinge of worry takes me as I count. "One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven...."  I can no longer keep my eyes open. Fighting has become hopeless as I feel a frigid presence h...

The Bone Girl     I hear whispers in the night as I lay my head to rest. I assure you I am not ill, I am not mad in the mind or body. Quiet whispers I tell you, tickle gently upon the canals of my ears before each rest at midnight. Like wisps of wind through an empty hall.   But oddly, I fear them not but I am quite gripped in confusion. As if lost in a room of mirrors, I am finding no exit. But I do not allow my lost mind to be wild. I keep my wits about me as I lay myself to rest.       What these whispers say I do not know. They are foreign in tongue, or so I think. I reach out to my doctor, he gives me no advice but to take pills to help me rest. He states, "It may be your lack of well rest. Often the mind will become delusional if not sufficiently resting."   I take his offer of pills and yet, I still hear the somber voices that trickle from the air. I am not mad I tell you, I swear. There is no delusion of m...

  A Murder over Invention  Samuel Thride is a man of secrecy. His presence, when among him, is quite audacious. What he does for a living no one knows. He lives atop Manor Hill, where his mansion sits highest above the neighboring homes.   Many have met him, but they are often met with reservation, rudeness some say, or complete denial of their existence. Some say he is this way because he thinks too highly of himself and no other deserves his attention. While others think he is malnourished in the department of social interaction. Some even believe he may be so intelligent, he has a tough time explaining his joys of possibly complex theories, rather, dumbing them down.   They say he would much rather talk of the world, its history, science, math, and any theories that tie into these categories. He is a tall slender man with disheveled hair that is increasingly thinning by the passing years.   His eyes swaddled in a dark complexion as rest does ...

A Neon Murder  The neon lights flood my view, fluorescent pinks pour from the city. I stand looking forward, watching as she spins around, singing her own songs to the midnight city lights. Her silhouette curves so well with this neon strobes.  A fantasy like aurora floats about her. I can feel her lying next to me still. He warm skin, her soft lips pressing to mine. It is wonderful to be so lucky, to have someone so perfect. As she dances I smile, feeling the moment glow with happiness. She's dancing alone and I her audience. Applauding with my heart and admiring her with all my senses. She is a brilliant take of life, of creation meets imagination. She is the dream I always wanted. Her hair bounces in the light, like strands of silk gliding against the wind. I call her name softly, she stops with grace. She spins herself toward me. She leans on the bed with her hands and smiles. We look to each other and my heart becomes wild. It's as if this moment will last ...

A False Allegation "Take her to Mount Halden and lock her up, she is not to see the light of day ever again!" Rork slams the gate to the prisoner's carriage and steps away. He tosses the key to the supporting guard command. "Now off you go! Get her out of my sight." Rork turns away and spits out a stem from something he was chewing on. His over bearing stature brings fear into the surrounding guards. They respond in quick haste to his words. The commander of the guards places the key in his satchel and says, "Alright men, you heard him, lets get a move on. It is going to be three days till we reach the top. Lets waste no time." The commander then reaches back into his satchel and removes a flower. A dark red flower with specks of black on the petals. He takes the flower and begins to chew on it for a moment before spitting out the stem. "Don't forget your Wizards Bloom, it'll help you stay awake." The commander s...

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 ...

The Unexpected The music deepens, the voices sing with intriguing muse. He stands with a mighty rage as it gnarls at his chest to be free. His skin flushed in fury his fists ready for battle. His eyes deadened to the world that surrounds him. His breath shallow with intent. His mind wandering the possibilities at hand like the tinkering of a mathematician. He buttons the last button on his shirt, pulls his tie taught and presses it smooth. He examines the threads of his attire. He turns slightly to his left, a small fiber peers from his charcoal jacket as if to taunt him. He pinches it and plucks it with resentful inclination. An examination of his clothes is taken up once more. Adjusting his tie one last time, he looks himself in the eyes.  No words are spoken, but he postures himself with confidence. Pressing his chest outward, his chin slightly tilted up, and his arms settled to his side. He takes in a heavy breath and slowly releases it.  He turns away f...

The Cover Up And A king  In a fit of rage he strikes him down; clashing him with his golden cup. His eyes lathered in deep fury, his flesh poised in the pulse of adrenaline praised anger. His jaw clenched so tight, a headache rises. But is quickly masked by his fumigating mania.  And there he stands, silent in temper, grasping his golden cup in a clasp of death. And now, at his feet lies his king. And with his body surging in violence, he wastes no time and in haste he drops his cup and begins to drag the body. Slightly heavier than he, he struggles to first gain momentum to carry the murdered body of his king. But upon gaining foot, he pulls the body up the few steps that lay before the throne, and places his dead king upon it. And in his now panicked hysteria as adrenaline has dissipated. He does his best to make the king look as if he has passed out from too many wines. But the kings body begins to turn pale, so he places the kings garments to cover his hands ...