It was dark. Hollow.
As I took the steps precariously with my limited eyes, I could feel them. Boring into me. Stars that winked, even in the dark. Unseen eyes that knew what I did not. Whose eyes understood further than my own could ever hope to reach.
Those eyes on me—knowing, waiting, watchful eyes—I continued the dark trek.
Entering the Temple of the Moon. Continue reading “The Moonlands”
On Halloween, I met someone special.
I met a skeleton. Continue reading “Mournful Bones”
“What’s the best method then?”
She sighed, and her earrings fluttered with the movement. The beads and pearls shaking as her head wobbled.
“I’ve no idea. There are just… so many ways we could go about this. Picking the best will be difficult.”
“Then what would you go with?”
There was silence in the room. Silence, except for the screaming.
Though, Jethro assumed only he could hear that. After all, the spirits were only in his own head. Trapped there. In all likelihood, he was the only one who heard the screams.
The lady scratched at her arm.
“I’d go with an ax.” Continue reading “Rest in Peace”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Someone is shouting at me.
But they’re always shouting at me.
Being the chief of a tribe, you get shouted at often. Surprisingly enough.
But, as I said, I am the chief.
So I keep going.
Keep doing what I’m doing.
Keep on task.
Keep protecting my people.
I dare the darkness to return.
I dare it. Continue reading “Chief of Fire”
The earth reaches up to me.
And I push it down.
I take my bare hands and I slam into the dirt. I claw, and I punch, and I pack it down. Soft gets matted down into tough turf. Loose soil loses it’s gentle touch as I pound it into something coarse, unforgiving.
There are legions under the dirt.
There are whole worlds buried beneath this earth.
Monsters and milestones and madness.
Things that time has forgotten. That humanity has forgotten. Things that are no longer important, because people have stopped knowing they existed.
This will be no different. Continue reading “Grave Secrets”
When I was a kid, I would sit at the bottom of the swimming pool.
I would lie down, belly rubbing against the coarse cement. I would lie down, and I would see how long I could stay there. How long I could hold my breath. How long my crinkle-cut fingers could hold to the spaces of rough ridges. How long I could keep gripping to the bottom of the pool.
How long my ears could hold the silence.
I drank it in.
Ate it up.
If I had thought I could consume that silence, I would’ve surely tried.
I’d have drowned straight away.
It was so comforting.
Like walking into a restaurant in the throes of summer. The heat immediately eviscerated by the cool AC.
That’s what the silence was for me.
I wanted to gorge on it for forever.
Belly against the bottom of the pool, water-logged silence filling my ears, I felt like I understood why the gators liked to sit there. Figured I knew their motives.
In all honesty, I do, occasionally, get things wrong. Continue reading “Gator in Waiting”
There’s a time and a place for everything.
Everything, I remind myself.
As I wake up to an alarm.
As I go to work.
As I get ready for work.
As I sleep and dream of how much work there is to do.
And then, there’s this:
The time and the place for something so simple. Something peaceful. A tranquil stream to drink at, rather than the white waters that I usually brave.
Rest. Continue reading “A Proper Rest”