Air Raid

I could hear the moaning outside. The tell-tale sign that something was happening. Growing in the dark of the night. A moaning that was not made by any person. I could hear it, the wolves howling into the night. Piercing through our houses, our homes. Warning us:

It comes.

It comes tonight.

Run, if you dare. Hide, if you can. Do what you must to survive.

They come.

They come tonight. Continue reading “Air Raid”

Zombies Everywhere!

When it started, it seemed like there was no end. No stopping it. No cure.

When it started, people were devastated. Lost. When the dead shuffled up to their door, into their houses, what could they do?

They started firing.

And I can’t blame them.

When they swarm, it’s hard not to shoot. Impossible to get away unscathed. Because, even though we know now that there’s a cure—a way out—it doesn’t change the fact that the unaffected are in danger. That we might become prey.

That we might just…

…lose our heads. Continue reading “Zombies Everywhere!”

From The Glass

I found a glass.

It looked like a tube. A spyglass that had lost most of its bulk. It was transparent, but the material inside was jagged. Edged. Sharp. If it broke, it would probably splinter, with the way it was bent inside. Twisted.

Warped.

That’s what it did.

A spyglass that made things closer. That made them bigger. A spyglass that brought things to the forefront of your mind, by bringing it to the forefront of your eyes.

Warped interior and all.

I found a glass. Continue reading “From The Glass”

Wax Forest, The Fox, and Me

The door was closed.

The fox had the key.

A thief of nature. An ancient burglar. Quick-witted, swift. A natural in the forest.

The fox had the key.

In a forest filled with candles. Brightly lit against the dusk, the falling sky. They glowed gently, shimmered. Lit the fox’s eyes so I knew exactly what he was thinking.

It wasn’t good.

Continue reading “Wax Forest, The Fox, and Me”

Pray For Rain

There was no rain.

The cliffside was dreary as always. Dark. Menacing. Threatening rain, like it always did. Like I wanted it to.

But.

There was no rain.

No rain to wash the dirt away. To take the stains.

Damn.

Today of all days…

Continue reading “Pray For Rain”

Freedom For Space

If there was one thing Lone Island Correctional Facility taught me, it was this:

Helplessness.

I won’t go into the details of how I ended up there, I’ll just tell you that they were bogus. My hands were completely clean, but I was mistaken for my brother, who’s hands are bloodier than a butcher’s on half off hamhock Friday’s.

But I digress.

I was imprisoned for a lot of things. In fact, the list was so long that I never got to read all of it. Which meant:

Sentencing was hell.

Literally.

Lone Island Correctional Facility was the seventh circle. A desolate island on a desolate planet. Made to make inmates feel stranded. Like there was no escape. Like there was nothing they could do. Guards were gods, and the head of the facility was Zeus himself. Disobedience meant punishment.

And punishment.

And more punishment.

Stepping out of line meant not being seen for weeks. And not because you were in solitary. We all wished that was all it was. Solitary would be a great place. A reprieve.

But no.

…no.

In a place where even uttering the wrong response, or sneezing at the wrong time, could earn you a lobotomy, it was all you could feel.

Helplessness.

The looming knowledge that you were alone. That no one and nothing could save you from the staff. From the facility. From the planet.

Hell was life, and that solid knowledge bred the feeling of helplessness.

But that’s the thing about Lone Island Correctional Facility. It’s all about suppression, all about powerlessness. About feeling like you can’t do anything.

So, what happens when you break free? When you find a way out?

Doesn’t that make you a god, too?

No.

It just makes you human.

Because helplessness is just a state of mind.

Continue reading “Freedom For Space”

Holes

There are inevitable things in this world.

Sunlight. Day. Night. Rain. Air. Water.

Things that exist, and persist. Things that keep going, and that keep the world going. There are things that spin onward, regardless of our hand in them.

There are questions.

And there are answers.

But, occasionally…

There are questions without answers.

And that’s a big difference. Continue reading “Holes”

Heart of Bramble

Brambles.

They rush up from the ground, soaring to new heights. They claw their way into the sky, marring the ground that they leave behind. Thick thorns protrude from the surface, thousands of teeth. Enough to make a shark jealous. The dark roots rise up, and up, and up.

I am surrounded by thorns.

I stand amongst them all. Stand in the center of this maze of pain. This dark, angry mess. I stand in the center, arms and legs and face still bleeding.

But it’s okay.

It’s okay.

Because here, now, with these brambles, it’ll be okay.

I’ll be safe.

I’m safe.

And no one can destroy that.

…right? Continue reading “Heart of Bramble”

Mine Alone

“We are not our bodies, we are what lies within our bodies.”

I heard that somewhere once. My guess is that someone wise said it.

Or someone who was butt-ugly.

Or someone who was both.

Though, I don’t think they’re wrong. We are more than what we seem, and more than what others see. That’s simply fact.

Too bad people don’t actually think that way though. Continue reading “Mine Alone”

Forest Tears

I never miss a shot.

Never.

Not since I was twelve and the beast bucked, hitting my dad in the head. Not since the time I mistook the creature for dead and then lost the damned thing to the woods. Not since the monster that killed my father got to go free.

I never miss a shot.

Never.

When I take aim, it’s a true shot. A swift death. An unavoidable truth.

You will die.

Your life is mine.

I take my aim and then the pop follows. Excuse me, I mean the bang.

The explosion.

This time, I won’t miss.

I won’t. Continue reading “Forest Tears”