025: wind

Oh, what things the wind knows, traveling the world without thought of resting, but knowing that its first breath will also be its last! How fancy-free the breeze seems to be, but in reality, it is simply making the best of what life it has left before the end. And yet, to spite its own mortality, the gust travels across smiling couples in the throes of quiet euphoria, across those desperate lonely souls whose ennui shatters their world each day, taking-in all the life it can possibly survey.

Oh, what things the wind knows, in all its brevity!

024: tide

Bess shivers, despite the navy blue fleece and heavy jeans keeping her from feeling the wind's bitter kiss. Leaning on an old wooden railing half-eaten by salt from the sea, she stares across the choppy open water. The rainclouds in the distance don't even cross her mind, nor does she pay the slightest mind to chill breeze tousling her short hair.

Bess, whose own appearance mirrors the endless gray sky and sea, simply stares and quietly sighs.

Footsteps break the silence, as a petite young woman pounces.

"Sorry I'm late!" she cries. "I missed you!"

Bess smiles.

023: samurai

They stood, unmoving, yet in their concentration shook the very earth around them. Playful wind spirits, whose own folly was seldom hindered by the acts of humanity, were absent from
the clearing. Not even those great spirits of the clouds, so distant from the earth, dared move from their places in the sky.

So still were they that time could not move forward.

A breath escaped.

The air, once formless, was sliced by flawless steel. The two warriors had changed places, yet remained eternal in their stillness.

Moments passed in silence.

A lone sword fell. A lifeless body soon followed.

022: conversation

"So...when did you know?" he asked, resting his head on folded arms, a playful grin forming under piercing eyes.

"I don't really think there really was just a moment, you know?" his companion replied, a sheepish grin soon joining a crimson hue on his cheeks. "It's just something that I've always known in some way...not that I ever guiltily checked-out guys in the locker room or anything. Just that...some part of me always felt that this is how I would be happiest, you know?"

The first quietly chuckled. "I meant, you know...about us..."

"Oh...right..."

021: idea

Nothing was left.

It wasn't that the end came swiftly, or that it even came. One moment, all had been serene, a source of solace in the still barren world. The next, everything that once had been--the richness and splendor of the life bursting forth--vanished into the barren wastes, without so much as a flicker or sound.

Nothing was left. And yet, at any moment, an oasis could appear, a shimmering paradise erupting from nothingness. Such a fickle mirage, when it appeared, could never decide what form to take.

Such was the nature of the mind's own landscape...

020: thunder

There has never been anything more frightening than thunder, or so I've been told. Alas, I've been told many things, and yet I remain in the precarious position of being unable to articulate any thoughts on the matter; truly a shame, as such a disability leaves my natural curiosity unsatisfied. My compatriots have assured me that my particular aversion to our shared inability is by no means a failing--that, rather, our choice lack of words is a powerful advantage over more chatty species.

Zounds! I'm afraid this discourse has come to an end. A dreadful rumbling has shaken me!

019: excuse

Skittering on the rails, the dinged-up and thoroughly abused trolley raced onward, the dim lights of the subway tunnel fading in and out like fireflies. The slightly-disoriented passengers, many too busy clenching their eyelids to see such a low-budget light show, held onto whatever stable bar or handle the rickety car could provide. Knuckles went white. Nosebleeds became frequent. Certain pairs of trousers warranted changing. And yet, nothing could stop the cackling madman at the controls, driven to his own end.

Hence why I was late, ma'am.

018: ghost

The phone call was brief; muffled sobs over a static-filled line, cut short by a battery's final breath. Now there was no one to listen, not even the slightest stirring of some creature lurking beneath the floorboards. Only the echo of sobs, as water poured freely from behind tightly-clenched eyelids.

A memory seeped-out between tears, of a child curled-up in a quivering ball, frightened of the thunderous noise outside; within moments, a gentle, warm hand found the quivering shoulder, and with its touch stilled the fearful soul.

With a familiar touch, the sobs started to fade.

017: dramatist

A star streaked by, reflected in her eyes. With a sigh, the lonely stargazer wondered what her celestial audience made of her--if she, to their eyes, twinkled and shone as brightly, or if the innumerable lights in the sky even took notice of the speck upon a speck. It wasn't as though she even had a vivid show to put on for the audience she had, knowing too well the scores of failed one-woman shows from her experience...not that she had ever wanted them to be...

Another star fell from that sky, reflected in her watering eyes...

016: tea

I was sipping tea in the local coffeehouse, when a lovely young lady whom I'd met twice before walked up to my table, glowing with a heavenly smile.

"It may sound strange," she began, "but I had a dream last night that you would treat me to tea, right here, tonight. You apologized, because you were too shy to just ask, and I blushed then as I am now, because I was too shy, too. Seeing you, though...I know you had the very same dream."

"How?" I asked.

She giggled, pointing at the untouched tea cup next to mine.

015: noose

There was no moment of silence, no mourners to grieve. The world once again turned a blind eye to the passing of another soul into the realms beyond, as ghosts of strange fruit watched on in silent despair...watched with the sorrow of those who truly know that change is a rarity in the human condition. And yet, there was no chance for voices to be silenced in respect, for the eyes of the world were too trained into blindness. There would be only the silence of apathy for that soul strung up by the noose...no mourners for justice.

014: kitten

"So...how long did it take you to figure it out?" she asked, curled-up beside him and resting her head in his lap.

"Not long enough..." came the reply as the young man smirked, running his fingers through her auburn hair.

With all the grace of a displeased kitten, the young woman rolled onto her backside, only to stare menacingly up at him from the comfort of his own lap. "Jerk..." she purred, briefly sticking out her tongue before settling back into a relaxed smile, hypnotized by his graceful fingers.

He sighed. "Guess I'm a cat person after all..."

013: war

Hear that on the mountains, child? What you hear is the sound of long-ago battles, steel clashing against steel with ruthless efficiency and skill!

Hear that on the winds above us, child? What you hear is the roar of ancient cannons, the breath of dragons made by man to belch fire at will!

Hear that on the rolling plains, child? What you hear is the sound of long-ago soldiers, charging with such ferocity that the very ground trembles beneath their feet!

What's that, child? You can not see any of these? Perhaps there is good reason for that!

012: passing

The lake was still, the cool autumn breeze too weak to even cause a ripple on its surface. Though the day was still young, when the songs of birds should have filled the air, it was as silent as the dead of night. Appropriate, it seemed, for the sullen young man, who was leaning against a tree on the riverbank.

"Funny, how a year has passed," he mused in a whisper, "when it feels so little has changed..."

Slowly, the youth raised his hand and breathlessly opened a small vase. The wind picked-up, as ashes took to the air...

011: tenderness

She knew that in a few hours, when the sun arose from its travels on the other side of the world, this moment would come to pass, as both she and the sleeping beauty beside her would need to rejoin the endless march of time. Yet here, in this moment, as she felt the gentle rise and fall of the dreaming nymph's chest--their bodies blanketed by moonlight and wrapped in each other--the sleepless youth found solace. She smiled and gently kissed her lover's cheek, and finally drifted into slumber. The sun could have them soon...but not yet.

010: vigilante

He could only stand there, dumbfounded. At his feet, unconscious and bound, were the three young hoodlums who only moments before were trying to kill him. Breathless, he stared at his would-be murderers, sons of the police officers convicted of brutality against the youth's father, an innocent man of color. Only moments before, a figure had burst from the shadows to save him--someone clad in black flowing robes and a long-nosed red mask. Silently, it had dispatched the youth's assailants, before vanishing into the shadows once more.

"Who are you?" the youth gasped.

The shadows whispered, "Tengu."

009: leaves

The leaves were singing again today, or so it seems. It is a shame that many have forgotten that the leaves are but the instrument for the wind's own breath, and that the spirits that surround us are the true performers. And yet, for all of our efforts, we are but humbled by the sounds of nature's own music, as no drum may ever be stricken to produce a thunderclap, nor any keys be pressed so lightly as to create a drop of rain.

Yet, it's difficult to find such subtle beauty, particularly when overzealous musicians blow away your roof.

008: doom

Nothing was left to see; the great amorphous mass, in all of its bioluminescent glory, had blinded any being capable of gazing upon it. Floating aimlessly in the void, it had not merely blocked out the sun--no, it had consumed the star, much like an amoeba, with little effort. Now world upon world bathed in its eerie glow, pulsating even at such great distance as to imitate a bleeding, throbbing heart. What little life survived--buried deep within so few worlds--could only wait in horror for when the living planet, that hellish scientific impossibility, would come to feast...

007: origin

It stood, ever silent, watching over the still valley below. In the distance, the unblinking eyes of ancient monoliths returned the gaze, staring through the emaciated silhouette and into the darkness drowning the horizon. The watcher's own eyes, glowing green orbs hiding beneath the wide, tattered brim of a traveler's hat, came to focus on the ruins. Like those of the ancients, the watcher's eyes were lifeless; yet, bulging from the otherwise featureless face, the glowing orbs revealed a synthetic curiosity.

It had no memory of its creators, nor did they still live. Only the monoliths and their secrets remained...

006: shy

She bit her lip for the eightieth time. Every day, the young woman would walk down this street, always seeing the same smiling face. And yet, without fail, each time they passed along that street, she would try to build the courage needed to say something--anything--but only wind from the butterflies' flapping wings would escape her lips. And so every day she would walk on by, hoping that the next day would finally bring the words she needed.

Yet, today was different. Without thinking, she looked over her shoulder. The same smiling face was looking back.

And blushing.

005: mistakes

If I hadn't left the oven on, then this whole mess wouldn't have even started.

Of course, had I known that the resulting fire at my apartment complex would've caused five speeding motorists from losing their lives by crashing into speeding fire engines, I might've been more careful. Or had I the slightest inkling that their deaths would've resulted in two suicides over grief at their loss, only to make orphans out of six children, that oven might've been turned off prior to leaving the apartment.

But I'm terribly afraid it happens to me every time Daylight Savings rolls around...

004: dream

We've never met before, and yet she's always there, waiting for me. Her voice is a music most divine, unlike anything I've ever heard...mostly because I've never heard it. Yet, each time as I close my eyes, I awake in another world that I don't understand, a magical place outside of time, and hers is the only face I see. We live out days of adventure, and our nights are spent in quiet tenderness, only to sleep and dream of waking life.

But sleeplessness in this dream is better than abandoning her.

I swallow every single pill. Home awaits.

003: dice

Beads of sweat blended with rain as she navigated the alleyways. Flooded potholes underfoot failed to steal away her speed, despite the weight of soaked jeans and the clumsy trench coat tangled in her legs. Yet there was a hopelessness in her wide-open eyes, despite all the speed and skill in her navigation.

A wrong turn.

Up against a brick wall made slick by the rain, she heard footsteps. Laughter, a distinctly feminine voice, echoed in the alley. Paralyzed, the runner gasped as two dice rolled to her feet.

"Snake eyes. You lose!"

Gunshots roared, hidden amidst the thunder.

002: explosions

"The latest word on what happened on Bay Street," came the tinny voice over the speaker, "is that there are no survivors."

It didn't much matter to the sole listener, buried beneath moth-eaten rags that once might have been a mismatched military uniform. He had long since been numb to the world outside of the dimly-lit bunker. The ancient radio had once been there to prove just how right he was about the ever-hastening end; now, all it ever did was ensure that his foresight brought forth his damnation.

Yet, he could only listen.

"In other news..."

001: wireless

A mesh of wires given sentience, pulling plates and other assorted mechanical fragments into a unified whole, powered only by sheer will. It moves with the grace of that chaos found in nature, the pattern lost amongst the clicks and clanks but still there as much as it is in the ballet between planets and stars. A simple figure, born wireless in the age of puppeteers, nameless but alive, amorphous yet the embodiment of freedom. It is the entropy embraced by nature, bound in the synthetic yet endlessly organic: a machine, but born, surpassing humanity in freedom of the will.