Tone (an acrostic poem)


The music began with a low, moody, ominous bass part.

On screen, lightning played among the far hills.

Nobody seemed to have a plan as to how to stop the zombie invasion.

Except one!  She pulled out her phone and that is what cued the Bollywood style dance-off!

Stable (an acrostic poem)


She was so well grounded

That the emotional lightning around her would just fizzle out

And left those around her with a sense of calm

But the smell of drama ozone remained

Letting them know how close they had been to being zapped

Everyone wishes they had a friend like that

Thor (an acrostic poem)


The lightning and thunder are at his command

His hand holding a spinning Mjolnir

Outside he looks like he is as calm as the eye of a hurricane

Reality was the true storm was raging inside

Innovate (an acrostic poem)


It all comes down to creating something new

Not that it is easy, but with inspiration and perspiration

New things can come into existence

Of course you hope to capture lightning in a bottle

Value of your creation skyrockets, your company declared a unicorn

And you would be hailed as a genius

That is all well and good, but first do the hard part

Envision a new future and make it happen


Harold took a shaky sip of his water, marveling at how wrinkled his hand had become.  Just then a cardinal landed on the branch of the maple tree.  The tree had died years back from a lightning strike, so the red bird stuck out among the dead branches.  The cardinal was so full of life that Harold wanted to go climb the tree and sit next to the bird and ask of its adventures, but every time he tried to leave the alarms would go off. The only way to make them stop was to come back to his room and take another blue pill.  As the bird flew off Harold compared his hand to the bark of the dead tree and waited.

To Kill a God

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled.  Fergus and Limey looked out at the storm raging around them.  The tree trunk they were hiding in was mostly dry, but soon the creator of the storm would come by, and then the real problems would begin.  Fergus handed Limey the gun.  Limey tucked it away, and Fergus checked the missile launcher.

Fergus turned to Limey.  “I know you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, but if we need to work together if we’re going to murder Thor,” Fergus said.

“You don’t like me?” asked Limey.  “How can you say that after all we’ve been through?  I think of you as a brother, maybe even closer.”

A flash of lightning, then a count of six, then a boom.  Thor wasn’t far away.  “Did you hear what I said?” Fergus asked after the thunder died down a bit.

“I bought you lunch that one time.  That should garner me a little bit of liking I would suppose,” Limey said.

Fergus grabbed Limey by the shoulders and shook him a bit.  “Focus man, focus!  We only have one chance at this,” Fergus said.

“I even let you get some rice pudding.  I hate rice pudding,” Limey said.  The thunder boomed after just a five count.  “I bet Thor hates rice pudding as well.”

Fergus sighed.  “Thor hates everything except that damn hammer, and the Valkyrie he’s smitten with this week.  What was her name?” Fergus asked.

“Ingrid I believe,” replied Limey.  “Or was it Maradyth?  It’s amazing he can keep hooking up with them and then breaking their hearts.  I mean they are sisters for Odin’s sake.”

Fergus glanced around.  Luckily he didn’t see any crows.  Of course with all this rain they were less likely to be able to be seen either. “Ixnay on the Odinay,” Fergus said.  “We don’t need the big guy handing us our arses for handing Thor’s to his.”

Limey looked at Fergus like he just spoke the great riddle of the sphinx.  “We’re trying to hand Thor’s arse to Odin?” Limey asked.

Fergus whipped his head around.  Was that a raven over there?  The rain was pouring down and the winds were really picking up.  Only three count between the flash and the boom.  Time was getting short.  “No, we are going to hand Thor’s arse to Thor, and we are going to try to keep Odinay out of it,” Fergus said.

Limey’s light bulb went off and he began to nod.  Then he suddenly stopped.  “Who the hell is Odinay and why would he get his you know what stuck in Thor’s arse?”

Fergus closed his eyes and counted to ten.  Unfortunately during that count the flash to boom went down to two seconds.  Fergus regained his control and opened his eyes.  “You’re right my friend.  We should just focus on Thor,” Fergus said.

“But you told me you weren’t my friend,” Limey said.  “And I even bought you that rice pudding that one time.”

Fergus wondered not for the first time why he had brought Limey along.  Then he remembered.  Limey was the only person crazy enough to come with Fergus to try this crazy idea.  It was a one in a million chance, but Fergus needed to stop Ragnarock from taking place for another year and a half.  By then the new Star Wars would be out and Fergus could die happy knowing he would have watched the best movie ever made with one hundred percent more lens flares, guaranteed.

Flash, one Mississippi, boom!   “That’s why I screwed it up.  It’s the rice pudding talking, not me.  I am your friend,” Fergus said.

Limey looked skeptical.  “That rice pudding was quite while back.  It should have gotten out of your system in a matter of six months,” Limey said.

“Oh no, this was Special Forces rice pudding.  It like laid dormant until this morning.  Right now it is holding my brain hostage unless it gets a cheese sandwich,” Fergus said.

Limey grabbed the gun out and pointed it at Fergus’ head.  “I knew it,” Liam said.  “All this talking about Thor’s arse.  That damn pudding has got to get out.  I’ll just shoot it out of your system.”

Flash boom! “Wait don’t worry about Thor’s arse or the pudding,” cried out Fergus.

A male voice boomed from behind Fergus.  “Who is talking about my arse?”

Flash boom BOOM!  Fergus felt the wake of the bullet as it flew past his left ear.  Fergus whipped around to see Thor, the god of thunder, fall to the ground, his hammer dropping from his lifeless fingers.  Already the storm began to dissipate.  A crow flew off in the distance.  That wasn’t going to be good.  Still, Thor was dead, at least for now.

Limey walked past Fergus and up to the hammer.  “Don’t touch it!” yelled out Fergus.

Limey pointed the gun at Fergus.  “You and your rice pudding stay quiet.  You get your movie, I get my souvenir,” Limey said.  He reached down and lifted Thor’s hammer with ease.  As he did so, Limey seemed to transform into a larger, more menacing being.

Fergus looked horrified.  “Loki!  You were Limey?”

Loki smiled.  “Watch your movie.  I have an arse whipping ahead of me.  Dad, is not going to be happy when I play hide the hammer.  Take care Fergus, and may the Force be with you.”  With that Loki slammed the hammer handle on the ground and disappeared.

Fergus looked at the body of Thor and the missile launcher next to him.  Fergus picked up the missile launcher, pointed it at Thor’s body, and pressed the trigger.  The launcher made a bunch of beeping noises and Fergus realized he shouldn’t have trusted the god of lies.  “Damn you Loki!” was the last thing he said before the explosion got rid of all the evidence.

Bam! (A 100 Word Story)

Emeril picked up some salt and threw it in theatrically.  “Bam!” he yelled.  He waited for applause, but none was forthcoming.  “This is harder than the old days,” he said.

Dealing with offal hadn’t been one of his specialties at first, but after time he found he had a real knack for it.  A few more snips and the heart was now set.  Emeril masterfully tied a few surgeon’s knots with butcher’s twine and the cavity was sown back up.

Lightning struck the rods outside and a moan arose from the corpse lying in front of him.  “Bam!  It’s alive!”

Outer Demons

The airstrikes were coming any minute now, but Francis couldn’t even think about anything but containing the magic building around his team.  His arms moved in lazy figure eights, drawing upon his image of the infinite.  His calculus professor always told him the math would come in handy.  The pressure pushing in on his bubble threatened at any point to burst his protection, unleashing hell knows what on his men.

“Bogey at seven o’clock!” yelled Maurice as he swung his AK47 in that direction, unleashing a tight volley.  Six of the other seven swung that direction, combining their firepower to release another bogey to meet whomever he prayed to.

Francis noted that this bogey had four arms and six legs.  The variety of demons was amazing.  It was like all the rejects from evolution had gone to hell, waiting to be released for a second chance to exact revenge on the human form that had won.

Francis looked at the only other person in his group who didn’t wield a conventional weapon.  Ariel held her sword in a two handed grip, glowing even though it was noon.  She kept her eyes scanning over a one-hundred eighty degree arc, but never moving a muscle other than the slight natural movement of breathing a bit heavily in the heat.  That movement almost bothered Francis more than the bogeys out there, but now was not a time to get metaphysical.  Where the hell was the other mage?

“Sir, we need to fall back.  The cavalry will be here in four minutes,” said Sanchez.

Francis knew he was right, but if Francis didn’t neutralize that enemy mage the jets didn’t stand a chance.  Time for a different tactic.  “Ariel, get ready, I’m going to fold the shield.”  Ariel gave the briefest of nods while her eyes continued to rove farther than seemed possible.

Sanchez purposely didn’t look Ariel’s way.  “What does that mean sir?” asked Sanchez.

“Get the men pointed in the direction of that last bogey.  We are going to have visitors.  Get ready to fall back,” Francis commanded.  He eased his shield, moving it into more of an American football shape.  The pushing he felt intensified and Francis purposely let it flutter for a second.  In that moment Francis’ world lost all color as the mage redoubled their efforts.  Francis fell to his knees, blood pouring out his nose, but he now knew where the bastard was.  He pointed just to the right of the dead bogey.  “There, about two clicks,” he said.

Arial unfurled her wings and launched at near supersonic speeds mere couple of feet above the ground.  Her wake shredded the remains of Francis’ shield.  Bogeys began pouring through the rifts that had been opened.  His troops began opening fire, maintaining their firing arcs while slowly moving back towards friendly lines.  Francis activated some of his magic reserves and boosted his physical stamina.  He rose to his feet and began back pedaling, not wanting to take his eyes off of where Ariel had flown.

“Why are they staying back?” yelled Maurice.  That snapped Francis back to the battle at hand.  None of the bogeys were advancing.  They still came out of the portals, but they just held their ground.  It was as if…

“Press forward!” yelled Francis and he began wielding lightning, mowing through the closest bogeys as he ran, tapping farther into his reserves.  He was going to pay for this later, if there was a later.

The bogeys reacted as one.  They must have been waiting for Francis to figure it out.  He just hoped he wasn’t too late.  More lightning flew from his fingertips and Francis could feel burning as his fingertips darkened.  His flesh might be too weak for this.  Francis felt his will begin to falter, the lightning lessened in intensity.

A grenade arced over Francis’ head and landed in the largest group of bogeys and the explosion sent most of them back to where they had come from.  Francis’ men ran past him, trying to send as many of the bogeys to hell as they could before it was their time to take that final step.

Sanchez got too close to one of the demons and recoiled.  He took a set of quills to his face from a porcupine looking bogey, dropping Sanchez to the ground in agony.  Sanchez’s face began to melt around the spines when Maurice put a bullet in his head to put Sanchez down before spraying the porcupine bogey, splattering it.

Francis dug deep and sent lightning arced over his men and into concentrated knots of bogeys.  Bullets and magic took their toll and finally the bogeys broke, running in any direction except at Francis’ group and the direction Ariel had flown.

Francis pointed a smoking finger where Ariel had flown.  “That way,” he said.  A loud rumble emanated from the sky.

Maurice pumped his fist.  “Here comes the cavalry,” he said.

Francis looked up and realized how wrong Maurice was as a star fell from the sky, crashing to the ground right where Ariel had gone.  “No!” screamed Francis.

“What?” asked Maurice.  Those were his last words as a sword blossomed from his chest.

Ariel slid Maurice’s body off her sword.  The rest of troops were frozen in fear and disbelief.  Francis sank to his knees.

Ariel smiled at Francis.  “I am free,” she said in her sing song voice.  Her voice tore at Francis’ soul like her flight had shredded his shield.

“I know,” Francis said.  “Just please make it quick.”

The rest of his squad finally snapped out of their surprise and started to open fire.  Ariel killed them all in a matter of seconds, looking no worse for wear.  “You shouldn’t have bound me,” she said.

Francis could feel drops of blood crying from his eyes.  “We needed something to help against the demons.  Your kind would have abandoned us to our extinction,” he said.

“So you resorted to slavery of the divine?” Ariel asked.  She slowly walked up to Francis, the sword pointed at his heart.

Francis looked to the sky and sent a flare into the sky with the last bit of his magic, pumping himself dry.  “The divine abandoned us.  You’re no better than the bogeys,” he said.

“I am better than a demon.  For example, you cannot kill me,” she said as she slowly sunk her sword into his chest.

“We’ll see about that,” Francis whispered as the air to ground missile exploded.

The Coming Storm

The dark clouds race across the horizon.  Their arrival announced by the fleeing wind and the bass rumble of discontent.  Lightning flashes raise the hairs on the back of my neck and I try to stare the storm down.  I gather the energy pushing against me, and with the thrust of my hands, push back.  The effort has little to no effect and I feel heartbroken.  This would have worked if there was really magic in the world, I’m sure of it.  The sky opens up, mocking me as I am drenched by some of the largest rain drops I have ever seen.  Lightning takes pictures of me as I slowly walk to the house under the mocking laughter of thunder.  I shake my fist at the storm as I get to my front door.  The thunder goes silent and the rain begins to lesson.   A smile spreads on my face as the sun peaks out from the dark clouds.  Maybe there is magic.  I dance in the puddles of my victory, at least until my mother calls me inside.