short

Jump

The Sun beamed down on me claiming the last moisture out of my being. My dry tongue shrivelled in envy at the sweat that slowly pit pat pattered on the stone around me. I stood on a sandstone ledge before a sinkhole. Below me, far below me, laid the cool water pool lazily reflecting the Sunlight and all of my dreams back to me. The sky was a blue void far above, the world a beige wasteland all around, and my destiny was a sunken pool before me.

I knew it was where I needed to go. The most primal parts of myself were yearning for the embrace of that water. I wanted to drink it; I wanted to bathe in it. I needed it.

“Jump, jump … jump, jump… jump, jump…. ” my heart told me, all day, all night, everyday.

I heard this, yet here I was, too afraid to jump.

(more…)

Wake Up, Mr. Citizen

The land was barren when the ancestors had come. The Sun glared and the hot earth hissed. The boiling wind tore at the flesh. It was an inhospitable place. The natural order of things here was antagonistic to these common men. What seemed like unshakable forces ruled over them, and made their short lives difficult.
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Stoned Ape Short Story

Time had dawned on the World, but its rays had not yet pierced the skull of thinking creatures. It was still dark where thought would one-day shine bright to blind and to enlighten. Blissfully the creatures slept in ignorance.

This bliss was not to last.

Like innumerable other planets around innumerable stars this World had bred fertile minds. For thought to bloom however there would be need for light, and the egg of animal consciousness would have to crack to let it in.

A catalyst was required.

Divinely charged emissaries streaked into the atmospheric palace, emerging from the starry filament. They burned, consumed with the intensity of their message. Some eyes followed these celestial dignitaries, but their gazes were devoid of understanding. The message was not for them.

So it went that these patient visitors, with a brief parading flash through the skies, ended their eon long journeys in pocked craters on the surface of the Earth. Under the dome of heaven in the bosom of the virgin Gaia, in fields, in forests, in oceans, the meteors glowed red hot. None were there to receive the messages, not yet. But they would come, and they would know. It could not not be so; it had all been planned.

Will of the Universe be done.

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Massacre Of The Yard

Should one of the creatures with the ability to decipher these very written words visit the place in which the following story unfolds they would surely find nothing spectacular. The bland tranquil openness would most likely be of little interest, and the upon digestion of the scene the spectator might condense it in the rather unexciting verbal epitome of “Yard.”   However, for the seeing eye the area was buzzing with life, and the colours blended in spectacular tapestry. The other senses were tickled with the odours mixing in perfumed fragrance, and the humming of a beautiful symphony played by a cross section of instruments of Nature that filled the space. “Preposterous!” the reading and speaking creature might exclaim, but one mustn’t speak too soon, for it is not Nature who is mute but Man who is deaf. Unfortunately, for the Yard even a slight sensibility to listening would make no difference here, for every time Man came to the Yard he came with such a being-penetrating, air-shaking, ground-rattling, and roaring companion that nothing could be heard at all. (more…)

The Snows Of Time

The old man took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the cup of coffee he held before his face. It brought warmth to his being, but his exhalation came out nonetheless as a sigh, fogging up the icy pane of glass out of which he was looking. This was the kind of sigh that would have surprised his wife, bless her soul, were she around to hear it. She would have raised her eyebrows out of surprise, a precursor to her baking fresh cookies to be delivered with a kiss, but those days were gone now. He turned from the snowy evening street and faced into his shop. Here too was a life companion that had heard very few of those sighs, and this too he was now losing. (more…)

The Fur Of The Night

( I wrote this with this song by Bohren & The Club of Gore in mind. If interested, play music while reading for full experience and cool band. )

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The purple silk sheets bent slowly under her paw. Padded cushions marked the division between the purple of the sea and the darkness of the pillar that rose to the heavens; centered in the sinkhole that occupied the ocean of softness. The cushions in turn fused into luscious black fur that led up a long gracious leg.  A round feline shoulder rolled. Slowly it elevated, carving itself out of the slab of the back cresting like a wave at peak, flaunting for a brief moment the ultimate definition of self before coming back down to erase on the shore of body. As the wave descends from its crest, so too does the purple ocean perturb anew making a sound that is imperceptible, but that rings the senses, heightened by the shift of topography and flow of currents. A new pillar of fur passes the previous. Lifting to repeat the process of wave forming, cresting, and crashing into a new sinkhole in the waters; four of them locking in elegant dance. (more…)