Moon (an acrostic poem)

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Making out under the silvery light

Oblivious to the changes I start to feel

Only she isn’t oblivious and starts to scream

Nobody said the dating life of a werewolf was easy

Angels (an acrostic poem)

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After the bell rang, Clarice looked behind her.

No wings yet, but she kept her head held high.

Getting them would mean she hade made it

Everything came down to that moment in her life

Looking at the program she smiled and settled back

So many more chances as the handbells started their next song

Elf (an acrostic poem)

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Everyone thinks just because you have pointy ears, you’re magical

Let me tell you, we are only qualified for two things

Fighting orcs or wrapping presents, and I hate goddamn bows!

Dragon (an acrostic poem)

Darwin hefted his heavy crossbow and took aim

Randy was distracting the wyrm with his stupid antics

Allowing Darwin a chance to strike the killing blow

Got to hit it through the eye and into the brainpan

One in a million shot, even at the best of times, but Darwin knew he was better than that

Never counted on the beast blinking.  Darwin never felt the flames

 

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St. Patrick’s Day Drama (a 100 word story)

I found a pot of gold, but then the damn leprechaun mobsters began kicking my knees.  No one tells you about that.  Find the end of the rainbow they say, but no tells you to bring a Glock!  I never stood a chance.

Now I have an empty cast iron pot that smells like cow manure and a single gold coin I managed to hide.  Too bad it won’t pay for the emergency room visit for my bloody broken knees.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone!  That is everyone except those damned leprechauns.  They can go where the damn snakes went!

 

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Epic (an acrostic poem)

Everything began when he finally agreed to go on the quest

People think it went to the next level when he fought the dragon

It was pretty tough, but not the thing he feared losing the most

Calling on Julia and asking for her hand, that was where the legend was born

 

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Falling

Gravity pulled the chains attached to Bruce’s arms relentlessly.  Still Bruce managed to place one foot in front of the other, each shambling step getting him closer to freedom.  In the distance the hounds howled in frustration and excitement.  Bruce smiled and wondered if they had found his pants, and the bees nest he had chucked in them.  He still hurt, but hopefully less than those damn dogs.  Carol would have been proud of him.  She had taught him that trick.

A tree root tripped him and gravity screamed in triumph as Bruce crashed to the ground face first.  He spit out a tooth and laughed a bitter laugh.  “I hate trees,” he said as he pushed himself up onto all fours.  He began to crawl forward slowly.

The sounds of the hounds was getting louder.  “I hate dogs more,” Bruce said as he pushed himself back onto his feet and gathered up the chains again.   The shamble began again, this time with a bit more urgency, but with a lot less coordination.  It wasn’t long before the ground had him in its embrace again.

Bruce looked up and saw the bridge over the gorge that housed the Stained River that signaled the end of Lord Myron’s lands.  He picked up himself once more, the bridge and the freedom it represented giving him strength back to his dead limbs.  “Almost there Carol,” he said to himself over the howls of the closing dogs.  He could now hear the people running with the dogs.  Only a few more yards.  He wouldn’t let them take him back.

As Bruce reached the edge of the bridge, he heard the whoosh of an arrow as it flew past his left shoulder and thudded to a stop into the boards of the bridge.

“That’s far enough Master Bruce,” shouted a man’s voice.  “The next arrow will not miss.”

Bruce turned to see Lord Myron himself with another arrow notched into his bow, but not drawn.  Randolph held the dogs on a leash, one of the hounds not looking too happy due to a bloody nose.  Three other men that Bruce didn’t know rounded out the hunting party.

Bruce took two steps backward, putting the arrow between him and those that wanted him.  “I am my own man.  I will not give you what you desire.”

“You don’t know that,” Lord Myron said.  “I can be very persuasive.  Just give me her whereabouts.  We will remove our hold on you, and you will be released.”  He lowered his bow.  “I can be a reasonable man.”

Bruce took one more step, feeling the low railing of the bridge behind him, forcing him to stop.  He took a couple of deep breathes, relishing the taste of the early winter air.   Looking Lord Myron straight in his eyes he said “Carol would disagree.”

Lord Myron roared.  “Take him!”

Randolph released the hounds as the three other men ran to follow them.  Lord Myron lifted his bow and let fly the arrow with one smooth motion.

The arrow lodged itself in Bruce’s left shoulder, causing Bruce to drop the chain attached to his left wrist onto the bridge deck.  Bruce closed his eyes and let himself fall from the bridge.  The fallen chain went tink, tink, tink as one link after another hit the railing counting off the inches as Bruce fell to the water down below.

The cold water assaulted Bruce, forcing the air from his lungs.  He breathed in the water deeply as the chains helped him rest on the bottom.  If this was the cost of freedom, but Bruce would die free.

Lord Myron rushed to the bridge’s edge as the last of the bubbles representing Bruce’s life floated to the surface.  “Damn that man,” he said.

“Don’t you worry.  We’ll find her Lord Myron,” said one of the three men who hadn’t gotten to Bruce in time.

Lord Myron grabbed an arrow, brought his bow to bear, and shot the speaker in the throat so quickly the man didn’t have time to blink.  “Don’t tell me what to do,” he said.  “Randolph, take care of the refuse.”

Lord Myron walked away and didn’t look back, even when he heard the second splash.  He would find his daughter.  She didn’t get a choice in the matter.

The Interview is Death

The producer counted out, “Three, two,” and then signaled one then pointed.

Marsha Kingsman turned her professional smile up to eleven.  “Welcome back folks.  This is a unique opportunity that we are broadcasting world wide live.  We are here today with an exclusive interview with someone no one wants to meet, but everyone will at least once in their lifetime.  My guest tonight is Death.”

Death straightened his scythe.  He tried to put on a calm smile, but since he didn’t have a face, it didn’t really come off on camera.

“How are you tonight?” asked Marsha.

Death cleared his throat.  “I have one foot in the afterlife,” he said, “but then again, that’s an occupational hazard.”

Marsha gave her ‘that was cute, but don’t try to upstage me’ laugh.  “I can imagine.  So tell me Death, why now?  Why do you reveal yourself today?”

“If I had two silver pieces for  I heard that line,” Death said. ”I could afford to own River Styx front property.”

Marsha quickly covered her surprise.  “Okay, who knew Death had such a sense of humor,” she said.

“Have you seen how people die these days?  I mean the Darwin Awards are my personal top ten list each year,” Death said.

Marsha leaned forward, trying to make the interview more intimate.  “You’re the one who puts those out each year?  That is amazing. Does that mean you know Wendy Northcut personally?” she said.

Death laughed.  “No, I’m just pulling your leg.  Wendy does some awesome work, and I have posted on her website in the past.  I’m her biggest fan, and I can’t wait to meet her someday.”  Death looked at the camera.  “Don’t worry Wendy, hopefully it won’t be for a good long while.”  Marsha was about to speak, but Death cut her off.  “Back to your question Marsha.  I need the sense of humor because each death is sad, but I need to do my job to help the dearly departed get to where they need to be in the afterlife.  People have just lost their lives, so a bit of humor helps them get their bearings.”

“I can see where that would help,” Marsha said unconvincingly.  “But once again, why are you showing yourself now.  I mean, you, or your kind, have been around since the beginning of humanity.  Why show yourself to the living now?”

Death laid his scythe across his lap.  He then placed his hands together, palms not touching, but bony fingers touching their counterparts.  “Belief makes my job easier.  Right now your kind had been moving more and more into a place where you don’t believe in an afterlife.  That makes my job hard.”

Marsha relaxed.  Now she was getting somewhere.  “How does not believing in an afterlife make your job difficult?” she asked.

Death leaned in close, making it more intimate.  “Let’s say you have just died.  I’m there to help usher you to your spot in the afterlife, but lo and behold, you don’t have a place.  You have no belief system I can use to help you to your final destination.  I then have to interview you, bring you around, show you the different neighborhoods.  It can get frustrating.,” he said.

“So what do you do when no place seems to fit?” Marsha asked.

“Well I could tell you that, but then I would have to kill you,” Death said.

Marsha leaned back and placed her hand on her chest.  “Really?”

Death laughed.  “I’m joking again, Marsha.  Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

Marsha laughed uneasily.  “That was a good one,” she said.  “You really had me going there.”

“Yeah, well, in reality I would have to kill you, then I could tell you.  I just figured you didn’t want that right now,” Death said.

Marsha began to panic.  “No, no, not at all,” she stammered.

“Good, because I pick no soul before its time,” Death said.

Marsha took a drink from her water and spilled a bit on herself because her hand was shaking.  She was so frazzled she didn’t even notice.  Still, she was a professional, so she continued on script.  “So a question I always was curious about was how do you keep motivated?  I mean, you’re around the dead and dying all the time.  You must get depressed,” she said.

“Well, I keep myself motivated by playing a game,” Death said.

Marsha broke out in a weak smile.  “Like in Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey?” she asked.

“’Nope, I think of it more like Pokemon.  I’ve got to catch them all,” Death replied.  The silence following that was punctuated by the falling of the boom microphone as the sound guy ran from the room.  Death bent down and grabbed the microphone.  “I’m sorry everyone if I scare you.  It is just I have gotten so close to you all, that it is a shame that my life’s work is about to end.”

Marsha’s eyes bulged.  “What did you…”

The blast of gamma rays from a nearby supernova hit the earth, incinerating the half that was facing the supernova, and ionizing so much of the atmosphere all life, larger than a mouse, was pretty much gone.

“The overtime is going to kill me,” said Death as he held out his hand to Marsha.  “Get it, overtime, kill me?  See how the humor helps?”

“Oh my God,” said Marsha.

“And the interview worked.  You believe in God.  That limits a bunch of options.  Now come along Marsha.  I need to show you this remarkable place.  You’ll love spending eternity there.“

Assassinated Love (A 200 Word Story)

The cell phone rang for the tenth time in the last five minutes, but again Graham let it go to voicemail.  Lorena had cheated on him, so he really didn’t feel like listening to her.  As he sat there though, he began to feel a bit guilty.  Graham didn’t like to act impulsively.  It was usually bad for business, and Graham was a planner.  He decided to give her a chance and play the latest voicemail.

“Graham, I screwed up, but he didn’t mean anything to me.  Would it kill you to answer your phone?”

Graham put on his ear defenders and sighted in on Lorena through her kitchen window.  She held out her cell phone then put it to her ear.  Graham’s phone began to ring again.  “He meant something to me,” he muttered, “and it won’t kill me.”  Graham breathed out and pulled the trigger.  Lorena’s head exploded sending the cell phone flying.  “But it did kill you,” he said.  He took off his ear defenders and walked calmly out of the abandoned house, dropping a match as he closed the door.

The flames climbed high into the night as Graham drove away, turning his heart to ash.