Tag Archives: #WOTD



“What’s in that bubble floating on the wind, Daddy?”

“It contains the entirety of a life within; everything it was, everything it is, and everything it will become.”

The tick of the clock only moves in one direction from our insignificant perspective but that is not proof of times linearity; spacetime just ‘IS’. Everything has already happened, no beginning, no end, no entrance or exit from the trajectory set upon us. Perhaps by God or chance, I won’t postulate on the how or why beyond accepting that everything is relative.

It seems pointless to fret, if the path our lives will follow has already been settled I’m certain none of us know the outcome and in that sense, the risks we take are real, the love and tears and laughter genuine, and the direction we choose to go remains ours to determine.

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9. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 1


9. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 1

Lilith fretted. She was comfortable skirting the periphery. Biding her time and studying the beast. Plotting how to best secure its loyalty. She needed it to support her primary mission.

Years had faded since she last saw him but not her memories. His captivating charm, the lost hours and waking up disoriented. His voice mocking as she stumbled dazed and half-naked into the corridor.

He was the real predator, worse than this unholy beast. Still, she clung to her script, leaving the dark recesses unprepared could prove severely disastrous.

“Show yourself,” the beast snarled. Slowly the shadow woman emerged.

The Revenge Series

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There is no harmony
for us on the outside.
Only brief glimpses of that
which lies behind the wall.

It is us on the outside
who are in prison.
The soles of our feet
worn raw from toil.

We are the hungry,
The sick and the dying.
The ones kept in darkness.
behind this skyward barrier

Where endless excess
is left to rot away,
before a single grain
ever slip beyond.

Those who attempt escape
share the same fate.
It may seem merciful,
but they never return.

beyond the evergreen door,
is in the fleeting moments
before the bitter taste of
gunpowder fills the acrid air.

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Barin, stood outside the gate, his face illuminated by the gleam of moonlight filtering through the deadwood canopy. Ringlets of midnight black flow cascaded around his ghoul like features, grotesque shadows dancing across an olive-skinned canvas. He would have to hurry.

Morning approached, the arbitrary beginning of each new cycle. The shadows that betrayed him were subdued by the light of day, reflecting only a pretty façade. The cauldron churning within concealed behind a perfect jawline, witty charm, and a penchant for expensive wine. Sometimes the hunt was too easy, they were drawn to him like moths to the flame, lambs to the slaughter, or whatever overused cliché you can think of.

He was an aficionado for the macabre as witnessed in his gruesome acts. This was the part he liked the least. He felt a sense of trepidation as the gate creaked open. It was insubstantial when compared to the innate drive that had pushed him to feed. An emptiness filled him as he searched the rows of tombstones for the familiar glow of candlelight that marked fresh dug graves.

He set her lifeless remains down and pulled a souvenir from around her neck. His instinct and heart in constant conflict, like opposite ends of a battery, one providing energy and the other extracting every drop. Still, he loved every one of his victims.

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The Scapegoat

The Scapegoat

It didn’t matter if this tinpot dictatorship trampled on the rights of its citizens or those sharing a border. He was the President’s guest, and as such smiled while flippant comments about war crimes and human rights violations flew around the table.

Back home, blame for the Ambassador’s cozy relationship fell squarely on the Prime Minister. Like a good civil servant, he tendered his resignation to conceal the government’s secret support for the regime.

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Red Mist

Red Mist

Terryl felt ill, a gnawing in his stomach that had started in the hours following his return from Orion Prime’s surface.

The mission was uneventful, a ride through the red tide mist to the Orion-Beta mine site where the landing party deployed new communications boosters and completed routine software updates on the mining bots.  

No one else from the team was reporting anomalies but several days later Terryl sat in sickbay awaiting his fourth assessment; his previous scans had come back normal, but he was certain something was eating away at his insides.

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running wild through untamed fields,
aimless notions guiding me
to the edge of an almost still river.

small beneath the pristine sky,
my spirit trusting the azure currents
to carry me to my final destination

somewhere across the silent meadow
a distant smile awaits my arrival,
and the wind calls my name.

I hear the wind call my name,
and I follow…

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The Cost of Indifference

Unrelenting darkness pressed down above the northern city trapped beneath the rubble of an intercontinental war it never asked for. Its only downfall is being landlocked between a wicked aggressor on the eastern front and indifference amongst the free and democratic societies to the west. The democratically elected government had aligned with the Western powers during the peaceful years following the Planetary Armistice of 2740.

The Eastern airforce was engaging in a campaign to carpet the rural grain and sheep farms with clusters of bombs precisely spaced to ensure maximum destruction of the arable countryside. Facing certain starvation, anger grew as it became clear that their allies had abandoned them. Sure, the West was providing stockpiles of old and neglected weaponry to shore up the National Resistance but compared to the weapons of modern warfare they were playing in the technological dark ages.

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Deep Below

Following the loyalist insurrection, many Minos separatists were forced to toil long unforgiving hours serving Earth’s greed-driven interests.

My clan survived the initial onslaught, fleeing to the shelter of the catacombs deep below the settlement. I miss the warmth of the Minoan suns but the long-forgotten passages have proved the perfect refuge for ostracized colonists.

The therapeutic properties of the moon’s super-heated core providing us with everything we need while planning our triumphant return to the surface.

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Ally looked confused sifting through the course catalog. “How in the name of God do I pick a future right here and now?”

Her Grandfather chimed in, “Think of your future as a blank canvas. It may start with some timid strokes but if you are deliberately thoughtful in making your choices and you let your heart lead you to the things that are important an image will begin to take shape. There may be obstacles to overcome and course corrections to be made along the way but as long as you remain true to yourself those early strokes will begin to bristle with confidence; the watercolours replaced with a more permanent layer. By the time you get to my age, your story will be filled with many chapters and the masterpiece you will be remembered for will have taken shape; it will be your portrait immortal.”

Firtlin’ about in her seat she rolled her eyes at him and replied, “Always with the life advice Grandpa, thanks I just need to decide between the Arts or Sciences.”

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