Agent (an acrostic poem)

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All the queen’s men stood tall; heads bowed low

Giving respect for the pine box being carried between them

Every eye was dry, but their hearts wept with each beat  

Nothing was more important than being there to respect their fallen comrade

Then they would go out into the world and exact revenge

Ominous (an acrostic poem)

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Outside, the darkness was pierced by the full moon

Making the fallen leaves look hauntingly surreal

It was then we she heard the sound of something approaching

Nearer it got, the faster it seemed to be moving, the louder it became, the harder her heart beat

Old primal fears rose from the depths of her hindbrain.  She began to flee the sound

Undulating ground eventually caught her foot causing her to sprawl to the ground

Still, the sounds were getting closer, faster, louder.

Stare (an acrostic poem)

Satan couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight as humanity struggled to stand

The fallen angel laughed with contempt, God’s image indeed

All they were was an afterthought of creation

Raised to shove home the lack of free will into the faces of the angelic hosts

Even now he hated that fact because that meant he was created to fail and fall

 

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Sharp (an acrostic poem)

So many times Mel had fallen flat

He just couldn’t seem to rise to the occasion

All that changed during the prom though

Resplendent in his James Bond esq tuxedo

People around him hummed ZZ Top

 

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One Fewer For The Enemy (a 200 word story)

The killing field surrounded her as if she was in the eye of the storm.  Bodies strewn all over, stabbed, shot, burnt.  Not another living soul was in sight.   Fallen comrades in arms were strewn among the remains of their enemies.  It was a miracle that she was alive considering how much of her own blood stained the ground beneath her feet.

Her unit had been sent out to stop the approaching horde.  Their village had been decimated by the plague, so they could only send out farmers and those too old to serve anymore.  She was amazed they had stopped the monsters from taking away what was left.

She was so tired, but there was still there was more to do.  She lit her torch and began to burn those bodies closest to her.  The stench of sizzling flesh stung her lungs and eyes, but she didn’t pause as she raced to set more of the fallen ablaze.

The battle had been fast, but not fast enough.   She tried to cry, but the tears were too tired to come.  As the moon rose, so did the fallen.  She could only set herself on fire.  One fewer for the enemy.

 

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Scattered (a 9/11 acrostic poem)

So many things blew around in the wind that day

Covered in soot and concrete dust

As the world changed and grew colder

The towers had fallen and with that a bit of our naivety

The Pentagon was broken and burning

Even a field in Pennsylvania bore witness to the winds of change

Reliving the echoes this many years later

Everything still seems surreal in this post 9/11 world

Dust and soot may have settled, but the wind still blows

 

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