One Raging Lion

He was older when I took his pelt.

That’s why it was an easy kill. Why tearing his jaw off wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been. In that moment, I wasn’t akin to Hercules, not like I wanted to be. Instead, I was only proving that I was a brute. Strong, yes.

But not like a god.

Not like the son of a god.

Not yet.

People stopped believing in the beasts forever ago. Lost faith in the lore. Took to science, to thinking that superpowers were a thing of biology. Left mythics behind. Left it to crumble, to rot. Do whatever it was that old, abandoned things had to do in order to cease.


They were fools.

In their lack of understanding—their strive for solid, concrete knowledge—they cut themselves off at the knees. Made themselves weak. Turned off a faucet that granted power, that granted real, true understanding.


But, not me.

Not me.

When I killed the lion, I still had to rip the fur off his body. Still had to skin him. Still had to prove I had enough strength to pull even the invincible apart.

On that day, my proving began.

And it continues.

Even now, it continues. Continue reading “One Raging Lion”

Waiting For Lions

They didn’t speak of him. Not at all.

The king with the white mane.

A notch hanging off his ear.

Ridges gouged around his eyes.

He sat in the corner, silently. Watchfully. His tail swishing mindfully as the others ignored him. Steering clear of him, because of his odd color. His strange scars. Or, maybe, because of the way he seemed quiet. Daunting.

He was an anomaly, honestly. Something to marvel. To ponder. Something to observe, take in, and marvel.

And yet, there he was.




There, in the corner—away from all the others—he sat. Just the tiniest bit of sunlight shrinking in his eye.

The white lion. Continue reading “Waiting For Lions”

Flooding Lions

If you were in an ocean, a fish would go unnoticed, yes? They’re fairly common there, don’t you think? If a fish were to jump in the ocean, it wouldn’t be strange for the other fish. It’d be relatively common place, no?

That’s what I think of—what comes to mind—when I think of his arrival. The tall man, with the black bow and piercing arrows, with the gnarled sword and jagged dagger.

The tall man with the black beard, the monster’s cloak.

The tall man astride the most beautiful beast I’d seen.

Astride the white lion. Continue reading “Flooding Lions”

Lion’s Pride

I fell.

Not that that’s new.

I’ve fallen before.

Over stairs, and because of things in my way. I’ve fallen in love, and I fall in and out of line nearly every day.

But this time was something else.

This time was the time I understood what it meant to fall. The time where I got what it meant, in every sense of the word.

I fell.

And I didn’t want to get back up.

That’s why falling is such a colossal thing. Why the term is used how it is.

Falling can mean stumbling. Can mean tripping. Getting back up in shame.


It might mean:

Never getting back up.

I didn’t get that.

Not until that day. Continue reading “Lion’s Pride”

Lion Man–Part 2

A continuation of yesterday’s story. You can probably pick it up here if you’d like, but yesterday’s will give you a good amount of context first.

On the fourth day that the lion man, Tau, was at my farm, it finally happened.

The weather set in.

When I woke, I was not greeted by sunlight. By rays of a morning in the full throes of its glory, but instead, by darkness.


Bolts of light flashing, signifying the lightning.

The storm had finally come. Continue reading “Lion Man–Part 2”

Lion Man–Part 1

When the door opened, I was surprised. Not because there was company, though that was quite a shock. What with living this far out of town, I never received guests.

There are other reasons—reasons that revolved around my father’s decisions more so than my own—but that’s the one I use to calm myself when I’m alone at night.

Anyhow, I heard the knock, opened the door, and was surprised.

Before me stood a man.

A giant man.

A man wrapped with so much muscle someone might claim him a god. The scars that adorned his muscle would’ve certainly backed that up.

His skin seemed to hold evidence that the muscle was not all talk. That it was backed by fist, and strength, and blood. But that wasn’t even the most surprising thing about him. About this giant, strong man, showing up at my door in the middle of the country side right at dusk.

It was the lion’s skin.

He wore what was, unmistakably, garb made from lion’s skins.

And when he saw me, this giant beast of a man, he bowed a bit. Before I could react, he spoke.

A strange accent coated his words, coaxed them out with a lilt.

He said, “Ma’am, I am a traveler. I am new to this part of the country, and I have no family or friends to speak of. I am knocking on your door because I am in desperate need of a place to stay before the weather sets in. If you wouldn’t mind.”

I stared at him a moment more.

Stared at his empty hands. His scars. His bulk and height. His clothes made from the king of beasts. From the lord of the jungle.

He was strange, for sure, but…

“If you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to work for it.”

When he came out of his bow, he looked solemn. He nodded.

“Aye. I can do that.”

Continue reading “Lion Man–Part 1”

Dead Show

I’m not sure when humanity became like this. When they obtained this need. This gnawing hole that constantly demanded more. More.


I wasn’t sure where else to turn to. What else to do. My mediocre macabre and my average tricks weren’t doing the trick anymore. The crowds…they’d stopped coming.

What else was I supposed to do?

Humanity had reached that point again. That point where enough was no longer enough. Where the abnormal was so normal now that it didn’t matter. There were other things to see. Better things. More gruesome. More violent. More explicit things.

The circus didn’t matter anymore.

But I still had a show I wanted to put on. A job I wanted to do.

All I had to do was figure out how to get them back. How to get the fish biting again.

And, boy, did I succeed. Continue reading “Dead Show”

Chasing Lions

In the woods, not far from here, there is a secret:


Such a thing seems like an impossible secret, right? Such loud, glorious creatures couldn’t possibly stay hidden. Stay secret.

But I swear.

They’re there.

And they don’t bite. They don’t roar at you. They don’t maul people.

So then, what do they do?

I’ll tell you. Continue reading “Chasing Lions”

A Circus Is Like A Dream

Today, I’m skateboarding.

But that’s just a misnomer. Skateboarding isn’t what I’m actually doing today, it’s my means of transportation.

Though most probably don’t see it that way. Most people in this town probably just see me as some punk kid riding a skateboard down the circus bridge when I could be doing something better.


I’m definitely¬†doing something better. Continue reading “A Circus Is Like A Dream”