Tag Archives: death

The Creek

Dog

I fell in love in the creek near my house
with weeds and mud and rocks and sand
the things I found there as a boy,
the things I learned there, you wouldn’t believe
the way it changed me

but nothing ever really changed
everything stayed exactly the same
exactly as it was, as it was supposed to be
in the creek near my house
where I played as a boy

I found a bottle filled with dirt,
a keychain with a rusted rebel flag,
a broken silver pendant necklace,
they were all once loved by someone
now they were all loved by me

I fell in love with the quiet
the awful silence of the woods
birds and bugs and leaves rustling
but there was never any sound
that I did not want to hear there

I found a doll covered in red,
one eye missing, arm torn, shoes gone
hair matted and sticky from the muck of that place
that dreadful creek near my house
where I fell in love with horrible stillness

the doll was broken, and I fixed it
I gave it back to the creek
I gave it back to the earth
and it was still once more
it was loved again

the next day I found a dog,
the tag on its neck said Lady
she walked with a limp, and she whimpered
when I held out my hand
and I fell in love with her

if there was one thing I’d learned
it’s that the creek could heal any wound
all you needed was a little quiet, a little stillness
and all the hurt would go away
I knew Lady was in pain

so I gave her to the creek
and she was still at last
she was free from pain
that dog, that was once loved by someone
was loved by me for a day

and ever since, when I think back
to those days in the creek near my house as a boy
I remember Lady, and I hear her whimper
as the water rose to meet her nose
and the mud swirled and surrounded her ears

and I smile when I think
that I gave her stillness
I gave her peace
and left her there for the next boy
to find and fall in love


Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge – 7.26.13 Entry

medical_mysteries

This is a brand new piece I wrote over the night – a bit of Flash Fiction for Chuck Wendig’s weekly challenge.  Never heard of him?  You’re in for quite a treat.  Click that link on his name right back there, and familiarize yourself with one of the greatest writers of the day.  Chuck’s TerribleMinds blog is updated – sometimes twice – daily, filled with wonderful stories and interesting articles about the day-to-day life of a full-time writer.  His work is incredible, both fiction and non-fiction… and it would do you well to check it out.  Plus, he says “fuck” a lot.  So, you know.  There’s that.

You can find all of his work on his website (click the link, dammit!)

Anyway, on with the story.  I may have gone a little over the 1,000 word limit.  (Oops.)  Here’s to you, Mr. Wendig.  Cheers.  Thanks for the inspiration!  Can we be friends, please?

Random-Generated Prompt (courtesy of Archetype Writing):

The story starts when your protagonist is forced into a car at gunpoint.
Another character is an alchemist who is developing a deadly new poison.

Decor_Line

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The final lines, of a work yet to be written.

20130719-013713.jpg

“And so I suffer on, like the rest… To live, to love, to dream of dreaming; and some day to die, and dream once more — of living.”
— from The Man Who Dreamed of Living


We, The Sinking

drowning

The devils and the demons
they both dance with you and me;
Leagues beneath the sea,
they sink with you and me

and We look to one another,
devils, demons, you and me,
dancing ‘neath the sea,
sinking fast and free;

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I AM A PARANOIAC

Morning_Schizophrenia_by_kosmobil

I am not crazy… I am not crazy… I…

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A passage from Vitam Mysteram

The following is an excerpt from an ongoing project, my magnum opus tentatively titled, The Canon of John.  This passage comes from book II, entitled Vitam Mysteram, which is latin for “the mystery of life”.

I hope you find Truth and Wisdom in these words, to guide you on the path to your own enlightenment.

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On Death and Immortality

Am I no longer human, that I have seen and now know what it is to be alive and what it is to be dead?

Perhaps immortality is something to be attained, not through spirituality or transubstantiation, or from acts of righteousness, or from bowing in servitude and grokking at the nature of imagined gods and goddesses, but instead from the very knowledge and comprehension of the thing which in and of itself does permeate and echo through the halls of eternity: mortality.

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Dark Forest Road

There’s a road – a way
through the emptiness inside me,
and I walk it everyday
on my own.

The street is desolate,
the soil cracked and dry;
Still, I walk it by myself
all the time.

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