Micah Park Biffle

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 ...

  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 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 ...

The Shadows We Breed  My skin crawls, shriveling toward my anxious thoughts. My eyes oscillate in attempt to scour the darkness for hope. But there is no light, only the black breath of my falling thoughts. A cloud emerges from the tail of my tongue. I can hear the scurrying of rats in the pitch of darkness as I begin to cower to the corner. Hungry are they, and I a meal for the ages. I curl up in the fetal, shivering like a lonesome child. Afraid, abandoned by the warmth of love. Everything is desecrated, what is left, but to allow devastation and I to be consumed by that which lurks in this unholy of rooms? This dark cloud swarms my throat and I feel nothing but the bitter cold, like the first kiss of winter, after it has conquered the last field of crops; and I, that field. As I quiver in this empty room, I cannot see the shadows that form from my breath. But I can hear them as if they are my own voice, vivid are they. They speak with malice, trickling with lips of l...

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...