Monthly Archives: July 2016

Into the West

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Entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneers!

Adrift at sea, I watch the sun set.

It tarries a bit, longer than I expect.

Perhaps its the setting, a horizon unbroken.

Waiting for a sign, some message, a token.

And then she appeared. Liberty’s flame.

Courage I asked her, torch bearer, no dame.

So she hands me a lantern, and whispers in my ear.

Light for the night, may others appear.

And then she vanished, the lantern ablaze.

I pick up my paddle, spirits raised.

West I go!

Door in the Sky

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Entry to this week’s FFfAW! Image courtesy of TJ Paris.

Legends tell of a door in the sky that connects our world with the old divines. In the days when stars illuminated signs and the heavens conversed openly with the earth, mankind need only look up and listen for the sky-door remained open, never shut. In time,  man mimicked the divines, learning to speak from the sound the wind and learning to write from alignments of the stars. The divines then issued a mandate; man was to rule so long as they heeded wisdom and continued to learn.

Eons would pass as mankind’s achievements grew great. Multiply it did to cross the seven seas and inhabit the seven continents. But conceit grew with its knowledge; preoccupied it forsook wisdom and turned towards itself. Its own voices drowned out the wind and its edifices blotched out the sky. All the while, the door in the sky silently closed as mystery and wonder fell to simulation and abstraction. Only the children were spared for they could still see and hear the faint outlines of ghosts and whispers of the divines. Lanterns they launched into the night; the door in the sky creaked.

 

The Harbinger

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Entry to this week’s Sunday Flash Fiction! Too much Darkest Dungeon as of late 😉

Scribbles and scrawls. Sado’e journal deteriorated with each passing week. Three days he wrote, without sleep nor rest, switching hands every hour to ease the paralyzing grasp of the pen. Candlelight flickered with dire urgency as time withdrew its loan and his bargain turned treacherous.

Clairvoyance, the reward for his “deeds”, had a price for it promised no remembrance. Only fragments he could record in a journal, and always in a form removed from the immediate percept. The advantage however remained great as portents turned futures were capitalized with the ruthless efficiency of unfettered ambition. Visions of his enemies gave him preternatural initiative. Images of fame and fortune became self-fulfilling. The voices of revelation commanded obedience.

But alas, all such powers ultimately turn on their wielders. Years flew by into old age until a singular harbinger appeared before him. The date of his death he witnessed but only the circumstances he recorded. Gruesome was the depiction accompanied by an unspeakable terror. Again and again, he would return to the harbinger, begging it to reveal more of his fate. The pen however would only scribble and scrawl.

Red as an Apple

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Entry to this week’s 3LineTales! Image courtesy of Sonya.

Sunrise to sundown, the young tractor tilled. Cabbage, carrot, and onion, the seeds he filled.

Yet summer turned fall and no produce grew. Reap and sow! Hollered from his pew.

Till a neighbor checked, seed labels and all. “Biennial” it read, in letters not scrawl. “Least they weren’t apples” 🙂

One Way

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Entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneers!  Back from a long hiatus 🙂

“The plebs. Why do they leave? Don’t they know all roads lead back to Rome?”

“Their shepherd understands this but he must delay, lest slaughter and slavery reach his people.”

“So exodus he proffers but revolution he disguises. Marching in circles to cull the weak, breeding the strong to fight the stronger.“

“Would the empire be so blind? Wolves can smell their sheep a hundred leagues away.”

“The empire let them go for they no longer desire food but a challenge.”

“And the shepherd?”

“A sheep-wolf or a wolf-sheep. Makes no difference.”