Curses are never easy to bear.
I hope you know that.
Curses are never easy to bear.
I hope you know that.
Fire and lightning.
They were not happy.
I wasn’t aware that it could come to this. That their tempers would climb so high. That they would stoop so low. As I watched, the earth began to tremble. Humanity began to shake. The foundations of the earth shook angrily at their quarrel.
And I, myself?
What was I doing?
I was watching.
Through every kick and every punch and every strike.
I watched on. Continue reading “Unity Among Us”
It wasn’t raining. Wasn’t night. The sun was shining through the window, beaming through the curtains to bring him the slightest ounce of light.
He didn’t want it.
He had no right.
A monster, a beast. The blood stained his house, beckoned at every door. He’d hunted, and he’d trapped, and he’d ripped them to shreds. Threw out their peace to bring favor for their dead.
The light was not his. Certainly, he had no right.
He picked up his pen, squinting at the sun. The thoughts haunting him, the terror of night.
And with his thoughts swirling, the dead rising in their call.
He began to write:
Journal entry 74, book 1189.
More than likely, this is my last entry. I hope to survive this ordeal, but I don’t believe I will.
If God is true, and just, and mighty, then I will not.
If God is truly mighty, then surely:
I must die. Continue reading “Bone Reckoning”
“Are you… painting? …again?”
I, in fact, was painting again.
But I wasn’t going to admit that out loud.
“Did you need something Silver? Or are you just here to be a nuisance?”
Silver just looked at me, a bit dumbfounded. Just for a moment. If he let the look linger too long, he knew I’d slap it off his face.
“Oh, uh, I just wanted to borrow your copy of DragonKnack again. If that’s alright,” he tacked on the last bit in an attempt to sound more polite.
Which I knew was a farce.
Silver Owens was anything but polite.
…it’s probably why he irritated me so much.
Without saying a word, I ventured back inside to grab the game.
When I returned and thrusted the box at Silver, he looked a little shocked.
“Uh, thanks,” he said, voice colored with uncertainty.
“Yeah, yeah. Return it tomorrow please.”
And I shut the door. It was all I could do to keep from exploding.
Because this was stupid. This whole thing was stupid.
I still couldn’t believe it.
I was in love with Silver Owens.
And I still didn’t have the heart to tell myself. Continue reading “Silver Colored Stupid”
I didn’t want this. Not a single drop.
But here it is, crashing down on me.
I tried my best. I did. With all my power, I did everything I could to avoid this. To make a different outcome. I stretched my hands out to the river and pulled with all my might.
But, I’m not Hercules.
The river didn’t flinch.
And the water rushed on, ignoring my pleas.
Denying me any help at all.
And as it rushed on, it brought me to my knees. Because it meant a lot of things, but one hit me particularly hard.
This herculean task just wasn’t meant for me.
The world is ending.
We all know it.
Comets rain out of the sky, cascading through our thinning atmosphere. Unhindered as they pound against the earth. I can feel their heat.
There are a few safe places, sure. There always are.
Just because the world is ending doesn’t mean humanity is ending.
There is a well within us.
And it is full.
Full of the things we love, the people we love. They make the waters we draw from. Give us life when we thirst. That water fills us.
And it fills others.
When the water is depleted—when we lose a source for our well—there is a dip. A brief period of time in which our well is not as full. We feel the loss. Draw carefully from the well, and draw only when we need to. It is not a drought, but our minds and hearts tell us it is close enough. And yet, after some time, the well is full again.
Because we get filled.
Over and over again.
Our sources do not leave us empty. Do not deplete us. They share the water with us, and we share it with them.
Because they exist, we never run dry.
But, of course, that only applies so long as they exist.
Where does the well get water if there isn’t anyone to fill it?
Where do we get water, if our wells are empty?
Where indeed. Continue reading “Thirst”
For centuries, humans have scrambled for power.
They scramble, and run, and invent.
They do everything possible to get more, if only an inch more. They’ll slave for hours, days, years, to gain just one more centimeter. To move just one more step toward power.
They’ll do anything.
Asking me for my aid.
Humanity makes a lot of mistakes in their pursuit of power.
But, I have to say.
That’s the worst of them. Continue reading “Power Trip”
At the very beginning of the night, I fell through the screen door. Just, like, fwish. That was the kind of sound it made. And then there was the loud thud or whatever as my drunk ass hit the ground, but that’s not the important part.
At the start of tonight, I fell through a screen door.
That’s not right.
It’s not right.
That happened after.
Because I still had my hat on, but I hadn’t busted my knee hopping into the slide.
It drenches this land.
This land is a desert. A wasteland. Desolation drowns this dry place, soaking its way into the veins of the people. Into the very fabric of their minds. Of their being.
They starve for water. Long for something to hydrate them. To bring them life. To renew their soils. To give them something to cling to, if only for a moment.
And I will give it to them.