This week, I was feeling poetic so you have some dark, moody musings… Enjoy.
A hint of rot in the breeze, an aroma made to please.
Yes, ‘tis autumn that I see and it fills me with such glee. The fallen leaves spreading their decay, and the maggots have come out to play. That shiver in the air, a joie de vivre so rare. But I’ll wait and bide my time, sit in shadow and in rhyme.
For Halloween, it creeps hither, the night I come out and slither. Oh, those pumpkins growing in the patch, the little children primed to snatch. I stalk along the night, and be warned, I am a fright.
On the Shore
Atop the rocky cliff, the lighthouse stands, a beacon across the waves. Luminance cast over the beach and water, over death from the dark, dark deep. Tower of light and hope, the last bastion against the night.
The old man waits and keeps his watch, ever vigilant in his duty. He has never faltered, never failed to shine that beam from shore. Even now, in the ruin of what was, in the crumbled stone and charred ash, he lingers to fire the lamp.
Even thirty years after the flames, after he and the lighthouse burned, he still does his duty.
Serenity sings past desolation, in the twilight hours before the moon. The silent hush, the echo of the empty, the lonely heart beyond breaking. Yet, hear the music in the wind, the gentle, salt-scented zephyr whispering through the trees.
Does it call your name in the fading light?
Do you dance with the forming shadows to ease your pain?
Serenity waits past isolation, in the last illumination of the day before the darkness, in the quiet reverberation of the world.
Will you answer the call of the fading light?
Will you dance with your chasing shadows and ease your pain?
After a bit of a break due to various reasons, Drabble Wednesday is back with three new tales that tell a strange dark story…
The scorching sun beat down upon the village, dispersing the cold shadow of the mountain of the gods. Seasonal heat warmed away any chill, and a breeze played the sweet aroma of flowers along the cobblestone lanes.
Yet, the shutters remained closed, and the doors shut, the only sound of the day chanting voices echoing in the village square. The elders gathered around the altar of the gods for the yearly ritual, their knives sharp. On the slab, the confused and frightened child squirmed, but did not cry out. Not yet.
Only when the knives slashed did the screams begin…
Stark and bare with the end of summer, the forest bowed to the first cold bite of autumn wind. Swirls of air whistled between branches, catching final, stubborn leaves and tossing them to the earth. Scents of dirt and mould wafted along the lines of breeze, with a slight scent of smoke travelling from the horizon.
Shafts of dawning sunlight flitted among the trees, casting warm light to the natural shadows; a spray of diamond radiance dancing away the darkness of the night. Erasing the secrets that lay under the soil.
For nestled beneath the woodland roots, bodies slowly decomposed…
Shutters rattled in the howling gale as the snow drifted high against the abandoned buildings. Once a thriving settlement, now it was crumbling ruins, broken tile and charred stone. Only the mountain remained strong, its shadow still black and long over the remains of the village.
The fierce storm wailed, as it had for the last year, as it would for the next thousand years. There is nothing left save for frozen tears and blood stains; the people who escaped scattered to the far ends. The rest were buried under the perpetual snow.
One mother’s curse did its work well.
So another Wednesday comes without drabbles, but these past two weeks have been a bit stressful. Last week I had a minor car accident (no injuries) so I’ve been dealing with that: talking to the insurance, car repairs, etc. and I decided to take this week a slow. I’ve also been putting some attention into my much neglected Redbubble store and doing some graphic designs (art relaxes me, so it helped with the stress).
On the writing front, I’ve been working on my short stories for two new series: Heyward and Andersen and Tales of the Norse Gods, as well as my new poetry book, Poetry of Monsters and Madness. I have been getting work done on all of them (Tales of the Norse Gods went from a three story collection to five) and hopefully both the first Heyward and Andersen story and the poetry book will come out in October.
And as a bonus here’s a little cover teaser for the Heyward and Andersen story, The Ghostly Tower.
I was recently interviewed by Josh Pantalleresco and while on the show he dared me to write a fan fiction starring another author we both know and admire, Joe Compton. Now any one who knows me, is aware of the perverse homicidal imp muse that lives in my brain, so the story has been written. The following is a anti-fan fiction of Twilight staring Joe (plus a little nod to one of his favourite movies). And remember, this is totally Josh’s fault.
Joe vs. the Vampire
“It was nice of you to meet me.” Edward looked broody and eyed the axe on the counter of the abandoned hardware store. He nervously ran his tongue along his vampire fangs.
Joe looked stoic. “You said you had a question about my book? About the cash register?” He nodded at the old-fashioned monstrosity of a machine sitting on the counter.
Edward nodded. “I heard you did this exorbitant amount of research regarding that scene in your book. Why? Who really cares about a cash register?”
Joe gave him a look. The look that said he might end up in one of his video rants. “I care, sir. I care.”
“Well, you shouldn’t!” Edward tossed him his best pouty glare and picked up the cash register in a hissy pique. “Damnation, this is heavy.” Edward wobbled and fell, the cash register pinning him to the floor.
Joe picked up the axe. “You know, I don’t really like sparkly vampires…
Joe entered the nearly empty cafe carrying a package. “I’m looking for Bella Swan.”
A moody girl with dark hair stood. “I’m Bella. Wait, you’re that author guy Edward went to meet, Joe something, right?”
Joe nodded, as Bella stared at what he was holding.
“What’s in the box, Joe? What’s in the box?”
And now we come to the end of the Zombie Penguin Apocalypse with four drabbles instead of three.
A whiny scream echoed through the facility.
I smiled. “Gotcha, Oswald.”
“How? How did you know?”
“That you perfected and used your RWV interface program? It was the Ninja Bear’s sword. Only that program could allow real world objects to be used by virtual characters. I took a chance you kept the failsafe intact.” I grinned. “But you are sort of lazy like that.”
“Impossible! I only mentioned that failsafe in one interview!”
“I told you I was a fan.”
“You haven’t won! I will—wait how did… What are you doing? Help! Help me!”
Static sparked through the intercom.
This is the Thunder Penguin
“I am the Thunder Penguin!” The voice rumbled throughout the compound.
“Oh, shit.” I raced to the command console and checked the heat sensors. “There, the auxiliary generator room.”
I raced off, moments later bursting through the room’s doors. The Thunder Penguin was slapping Oswald repeatedly.
“Get your flippers off Le Pingouin Noir, you villain!”
The Thunder Penguin turned. “Am I a villain?” He twitched, his matrix glitching and glowing. “Villain, villain. I am a villain. I’m not a villain.”
Then the room exploded in a glorious burst of electric energy.
I woke to see Frankie’s face grinning at me.
I sat up and looked around. As well as Frankie, I saw the anxious faces of the cows and the pets. “What happened?”
“The Thunder Penguin experienced a spectacular internal program paradox and reset. It’s harmless, back in the system.”
“What about the others? Where’s Oswald?”
“I sent everyone back into the system from the control room. They weren’t really a threat after you shut them down but better safe than sorry. We still have to dismantle all of Le Pingouin Noir’s hacks, though, before everything’s back to normal.”
Frankie shrugged. “He’s gone. Sort of vanished.”
The Day After the Penguins
“You know corporate is going to throw a fit over the power bill. Those remote VR generators take up a lot of juice.”
Frankie shrugged “Tell them to bill Oswald.”
“If they can find him. I can’t believe he escaped.”
“Um…” Frankie stared at his keyboard
“What do you know?”
“I think he accessed the dimensional portal and fled to the flying monkey world.”
I stared, my mouth hanging open. “Oswald’s in the flying monkey world?”
“I’m not sure, but I warned Zippy to be safe. He and Zelda say hi, by the way.”
I felt a headache coming on.
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