Micah Park Biffle

A Child and A Gracious Genie A circle of graves stand near an old home. No one dares approach it for the tale of a witch is told to occupy its walls. Even the nearest road is a mile from it, not a single home is its neighbor. But tonight is an usual night, for tonight; a group of kids become curious. Well, not curious, more in thought of foolish bravery seasoned in the words of a dare. So, of the five, three go into the woods to find the hold house by the graves. As they travel through the dense woods at midnight, they speak softly between each other. Doing their best to display no fear, but each can hear their heart beating fiercely. Every branch that breaks beneath their feet they are consumed with fright. Startled, they cling to one another but quickly separate in an act with false bravery. The deeper they recede into the woods, the more ominous everything becomes. They can hear critters scampering between the trees with each step they take. Suddenly, the moonlight van...

Find me on  Twitter A Freedom Taken By Lies It is his third town in the past six months. He does his best to keep his heart from home, to not let his nostalgia for memories cloud his judgment. His clothes riddled in filth as he has no funds, no place to rest. From time to time he finds himself a welcomed soul to allow him a stay in hotel. But much of his time is spent in alleys and strangely cemeteries. As he finds the dark somber setting to be a delight to his ears. As no smells of rancid decay wafts about his nose, nor the shouting of drunks and whores scour his ears. He knows himself, he must be belted in grotesque aromas. Smells that would leave any man chocked in his presence. But by  now, he has become accustomed to his position of stench and life. Six months, six months have come and gone. He wanders with aimless direction but passes through each day with a smile. Though his stomach is in constant agony of nourished substance. He finds no reason to treat his ...

A Dark Path and Three Drunk Fools  Down the narrow path lies a red light, a light that flickers and shines only at night. With a carved sign that's says "no trespassing or you will die." No feet of the villagers near by, have ever dared to peer to the other side. For there is too much fear and imagination to stride.   They talk of those whom may have died upon being crucified and left to dry. To hang damnified for the horrible things they did with villagers to be sacrificed. Even stories of an ugly man who was ostracized for his looks and left to die. To be recluse and sing his tunes. Some say if you listen close enough, you can her him play the organ, with a man name Hyde.  Some speak of a child whom's spirit floats about that of the other-side, who died on a carnival ride. Though this path is hidden on a mountain side, near a village few have seen with a naked eye. This path resides world wide. Though these stories have little evidence to be cla...

A Scientific Lie  Sam_Journal_Entry_365_June_2166_25_1300 We now live above the earth, above where we were once born. The government has forced our very existence to be separated from the flowers, from the soils of our planet. Only a special group, the SST's, Special Supply Teams, are allowed to go down to earth, beneath the clouds. They go to gather supplies for our now floating world. We float above the clouds in domes, in self weather generated cities and landscapes. We know the weather before it ever arrives, no disasters come, no droughts, no struggle to keep things in order. As citizens though, we are not allowed to grow, nor plant our own seeds. We must purchase specialty seeds from local government owned shops. They say they are organic and naturally found from earth. But they grow unexpectedly fast. They say the plants grow in a steady fast pace due to the great weather conditions. But still I find this to be odd. For my father’s tells me ...

Fables of A Mansion  It’s a ghastly night, a night that’s fills with much fright. Nothing seems quit right. In a neighborhood that is lit only by moon light. The clouds, ominous in shape, fill with blackness so dark it sends a chill, even through those who live by candlelight.  Covering the streets that lay frozen to frostbite.  Each block feels of ghosts and ghouls gushing from frosty misted air, dancing, between clouded lights. And on this street stands a lonesome mansion, crooked, tangled in vines, a sight far from polite. It sits alone forced against a long twisted road.  Crowded by crooked trees, bare of any leaves, choked by arid nights. And prying eyes from swamps filled with the smells of rotted troglodyte. Wolves howl at the narrowing sky. Not a single soul dare come by, for they fear, their soul will die.  Stories are told of this mysterious home, stories long and old. Stories that leave you awake a night. Stories that leave the soul g...