Micah Park Biffle

   The Harbor Beast    There we stood at the harbor, our weapons drawn. Our hundreds of ships shredded like veal to the tortures of a fork. Screams of men echoed through the thickly laid fog. Every man's heart beat could be heard that day.  Our bayonets branded upon our guns. Others stood with swords drawn, but what good were they? What good were any of us?  The desolation that floated among the harbor waters, was as if the wrath of god had rained down, and it was teaming with horrors. You could hear the screams of men vanish to silence as if death had rose from the water. And the most haunting thing of that day still rests in my head like a scar upon the flesh. One of my men, my own son, aboard the ship I was designated for had swam to the very dock we stood upon. But as I and other men tried to save him, something took him. Something powerful, something beyond our eyes.  In one foul second we lost our grip and he was taken under with ea...

   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 Flavor of War A roaring crowd of excitement and love. The return of fathers, sons, and brothers. Relief is the scent of the heart in this beating moment. At least, that is what it seems to be; but returning from the horrors of war, many are broken, but unaware. Shadows drag behind closed eyes as they speak with loquacious tongues. Creating seamless memories to haunt with vivid realities. Tones of hell creep from the guilt that putrefies the soul. Rotting it with inflamed shame. Coating the mind in endless darkness as pale eyes gaze with memory. Calling out the shadows that be the ghosts of battle. Flashes of heat engulf the body at rest; waking in an alert of anxious recollection of what one hopes to omit with the passing of time. But hell knows of no such passing. It embodies itself in the pasture of mind and body. Entangling with depraved taste for madness. Boiling the mind in copious memoirs of terror; the actions of man. Blood curdling from lungs, limbs severed from...

A Murdered Love of War Three hundred and sixty-five days since she held him in her arms. Her whole body swept up in anxious fright and joy. She thinks to herself, "Will he remember me? Will he still love me?" She throws on her best dress and lipstick; looks herself in the mirror and says, " I am gonna go the hair salon and strike myself the hair of an angel!" Still looking herself in the mirror she twirls around with a large smile, "Oh my, I can feel my heart beating against my chest." She smiles and lets out a small giggle. She stops twirling and slides her hands down her sides, over her hips to make sure the dress forms perfectly to her body. She then places a hat upon her head to hide her wild hair before it is touched by her stylist Mary. She quickly steps over to her closet, picks up her red heels and she rushes out her room and down the stairs. She reaches the bottom of the stairs and places on her heels. While struggling to keep her ...