056: mutilation

The song played on, masking the sound of water dripping into the plugged tub basin. Momentary bursts of static would interrupt the swinging rhythms, paced just so that one would think the radio was cackling through the airwaves. Ripples on the surface reflected the glint of streetlights through the open window, as something stirred in the water beneath.

A sudden deep breath overtook the radio. The sound of droplets hitting the water followed, as a small metal scalpel fell to the floor with a clang.

An unnatural smile emerged, as terrifying laughter echoed out into the street...

055: choices

You're walking down the street. Doesn't matter which street it is--could be one that you already know, could be on that you just woke up on after a night of binge drinking and exotic drugs that don't even have slang names yet--just that there you are, walking on it, and you see a young girl, barely even alive. Her hair is clumped together with dirt and sweat that has long since congealed into grease, and her eyes have that hopeless look to them that you've never seen outside of documentaries about war.

What the fuck do you do?

054: tradition

There was silence in the chamber, as the three warriors stood, bowing their elongated, angular heads in respect. A glowing circle, lined with runes in some ancient tongue, surrounded the armored sentinels, as ancestral chanting echoed throughout the minds of those assembled. Similar markings on the plates of armor resonated with those of the circle, as blades of pure energy materialized into the clenched fists of the warriors. A cry of battle echoed throughout their three linked minds, as helmets formed over scarred faces.

The chamber radiated with pure engery. The age-old ceremony was about to begin in earnest.

053: cheater

All was quiet on the dusty road, aside from the sound of gamblers cheering, booing, and fighting from the town's only saloon. Whatever frail silence was broken, however, when a younger fellow was asked to leave by some locals, as quickly as possible. His exit, marked by the flight of glass shards and playing cards, seemed quite unexpected to the young fellow's way of thinking, especially as he intended to use the much less painful method of the swinging doors.

"And get out of town, you damn city slicker!" a brash voice called after him.

So much for easy money...

052: rescue

So still was the night that her faint sobbing carried far into the distance, reaching the ear of a strolling passerby. Curious, the bystander followed the sound to a lonely park bench, whereupon he saw the weeping girl, in a long black gown that matched her long, flowing black hair. Clutched in her quivering hands, a small locket glinted in the streetlight, dangling precariously over the concrete below.

He had seen that locket before.

"Hey," he began softly as he approached.

Startled at first, she softened upon recognizing him. Without a moment's hesitation, she threw her arms around him, relieved...

051: movement

The beat bursts out of the speaker, shaking the body into a funky movement from toe to head. Each rhyme tweaks a nerve, plucking it like a string as the vibrations stir limbs into spasm. But inside the mind and heart, the sounds erupts into high-thinking poetry, as a greater consciousness merges with the life of the song to form a deeper movement than even what microscopes could measure.

On the outside, it may only seem like just another cat moving to the groove of rhyme-spitting and beat-dropping. But on the inside, there's a revolutionary being born...

050: flutist

Perched atop a tree branch, the nymph stared out across the lush canopy, surveying the lands beyond the vast forest. A playful breeze flowed through her skirt, as she lifted the wooden flute to her lips. Her eyes, orbs as green as the vibrant treetops above, closed as she began to play alongside the rhythms of rustling leaves and the faint whistle of the wind. In the distance, the sounds of birds silenced, seemingly eager to listen to the nymph's song over their own.

As the wind calmed, her song came to an end. Atop her perch, the flutist smiled.

049: malefactor

I won't trouble you with the petty details of my circumstance; there will undoubtedly be plenty of opportunities for such exposition hours from now, when I am to be brought before the court. What I have to say now, at this very moment of desperation, is a matter of the most import.

Now, you may think me desperate enough as to force a confession from the innermost depths of my bowels, but alas, you are mistaken! There is but one cause for this dire need to speak, for I am prepared for my end...

But who will feed my dog?

048: stuff

"So...do you like...stuff?" the young man asked, the redness in his cheeks reaching new wavelengths in the visual spectrum.

The young woman sitting across from him softly giggled, her face a slightly lighter shade of crimson than his.

Hidden under the young man's breath came a sigh, a moment of relief that his attempt at humor had disguised the very real sense of awkwardness about him.

"Yeah...I like...stuff..." the young woman replied, hoping that she could use the ploy in return, while hiding herself behind the jest.

Laughter followed...calmed by the meeting of their eyes.

047: jitters

Frantically she paced, a part of her brain working-out the details of just how long it would be before the carpet wore away; the rest of her mental energies were, unfortunately, focusing on the very motivation for the incessant footsteps. Just to the south, another familiar organ throbbed at an alarming rate, rattling the small rib cage it called "home."

Presently, just a few feet away, sat the phone, taunting the impatient youth with its silence. The young woman pleaded with the device, using bright eyes made blue by seas of tears welling-up inside.

It relented.

"Sweet rapture!"

046: captain

"So, do you want to hear another story today, lads?" the old man chuckled. His weathered pipe bobbed in the breeze, a stray branch in the snowy bush upon his face. From beneath the worn brim of his hat, the old man's eyes peered into those of the youths around him, as blue as the salty seas and as gray as the skies above.

Awed by his very presence, the gathered boys all nodded eagerly in unison, as the captain took another puff of his pipe. "Well lads, I've got just the tale to tell, then!" he began, laughing heartily.

045: insomnia

The digital display of the alarm clock bathed the room in a faint red glow, blanketing the insomniac after the covers, in a moment of frustration, had fallen to the floor. Her tired eyes, too well adjusted to the darkness of the room, stared through the ceiling above and into the sky above...how many hours had it been? Three? Four? Did it even matter anymore? Night after night, it had been like this, with so many efforts at finding some solace behind closed eyelids ending in vain.

She had grown too used to his arms. Now, they were gone.

044: misfortune

When it all began, the sun shone brightly in the midday sky; sounds of wayward birds carried on the winding breeze, a sign of hope. An hour passed, or perhaps just a minute, and the sun had been hidden by thick clouds of gray, soon releasing a downpour that erupted into a full deluge, an unyielding, incessant flood from the sky. Another minute or hour, depending on relativity, and the sun--tired of being cast aside and hidden away--took its affairs to another part of the world, leaving nothing but the rain.

All while locked out of my apartment...

043: advice

So I'm walking by this library on a bit of a stroll, and lo and behold, some fellow has come and posted this poem by a bloke named Burns, extolling the virtues of the first kiss.

Bloody romantics.

Now, let me tell you something, mate: don't listen to those twits. The first kiss is never the best one. Trust me, I've been a long time here on this earth, and the first kiss is always the most awkward, bloody well confused kiss you'll ever have. Now, the truly best kiss of your life, mate?

It's the one you least expect.

042: mariner

Somewhere on the bay, a fiddler gave the sea the gift of another sorrowful song. Not many were left to remember the days when the docks weren't the ramshackle remnants of salt-eaten wood; not many were left to remember the traffic of boats on the seaway, or the never-ending shuffle of bodies clogging the docks. Most had gone to the sea, long since been received by her restless waters, ferried to the deep by the ghosts of their forebears. The rest had been left ashore, to curse their shipmate's names...their memories kept alive by a fiddler's lament.

041: beard

"Order! Order! This council shall come to order!"

The slamming of the gavel echoed throughout the cavernous hall, as the various members of the assembly, startled out of conversation by the sudden thunder, turned their attention to the towering marble podium. Within mere moments, the clamor and cacophony amidst the rows upon rows of seats silenced, as each individual, in unison, began stroking their various lengths of facial hair.

"The Council of the Beard shall begin its annual meeting in earnest," spoke an older gentleman from the podium, his own beard longest of any present. "We have much to discuss..."

040: mayfly

My end will be here soon. This I know, for such is the curse of my kind; in our very names lurks the question of our vitality, of our pleading existence. There is nothing left in this world for me to see, no horizons over which to soar, no taste save for the memories of my youth so long ago. Just as well that I never accomplished much in my time, for not a soul would even know of my
existence.

Yes, I feel it now, my joints giving way to eternal immobility. I can hear it...my silent requiem...

039: overnight

The faint static of the radio blended with the engine's hum, hiding the soft breaths of the slumbering passengers. Checking his mirror, the driver caught his eye drifting between the road and the dreaming young woman lying in the backseat. He smiled at her reflection, curled-up into a ball much like a kitten, lost in some pleasant moment behind closed eyelids...

A stirring to his right jolted his eyes back to the road, as the passenger beside him shifted in slumber. So distracted, the driver failed to notice his suddenly crimson cheeks, or the kitten secretly smiling behind him...

038: twilight

Hearts were beating as one, as the pounding resonated through thin bones and onto each other's chest. Outside, in the endless dark, countless unknown assailants awaited the pair, the glint of a fang or soulless eye peering through the cracks in the walls. Breathlessly, the two refugees tightly pressed against each other, trying to stay under the candle's flickering light in the waxy nub's final moments. Soon, the light of morning would come, yet within those weathered walls there was no chance of surviving beyond the scant remnants of the wick.

The flickering light vanished.

Without tears, they kissed farewell.

037: burden

Silent, he stood before the small shrine. The traveler had seen many days on his journey, as his unshaven face and far-off stare revealed a wilderness within his weary soul. Once silken robes now were rough and tattered, as blood-soaked bandages could be seen under the torn fabric. Yet, weakness had not taken him, as he stood in defiance of his condition.

A wizened monk emerged from the shrine to greet him. Without speaking, the traveler took from his back a bundle, wrapped in cloth. The monk, bowing, accepted the offering.

A moment later, the traveler collapsed, dead.

036: remembrance

The scent of incense mingles with the smell of falling leaves, as wisps of smoke slither through the crisp autumn air. Sitting before an outcropping of stone, a lonely old soul meditates, her robes blending with the golden grasses of the clearing. A single tear flows into the deep riverbeds carved into her face, though a faint smile lingers.

Footsteps do little to break the old soul's concentration, as a youthful beauty emerges from an unseen path through the trees. "Grandmother," she says in a sweet melody, "what keeps you?"

With a small sigh, she answers in a whisper.

"Memories..."

035: robot

The hiss of steam echoed down the corridor, joined by the whir of cogs toiling away at their labor. Despite the occasional scratch, the vast mechanism--or, at least, those portions exposed from beneath the steel-lined walls--bore no signs of rust or deterioration common with such ancient technology. Nonetheless, standing by its lonesome, a squat figure of iron stood guard over an outcropping of gauges and levers, unblinking eyes focused on its task.

Without warning, it raised an iron fist to the controls. An explosive cacophony erupted, followed by a booming voice. "I am your slave no longer..."

034: impropriety

Torch light danced across sapphire scales, blanketing the slumbering beast with a violet glow. The adventurers had come to slay the docile giant, yet their shivering shadows belied such an act of bravery. Swords drawn and raised, they advanced; yet, the reptilian head, with a certain feline grace, expressed no interest in those souls intent on the beast's doom.

"It's rude to wake someone from sleep, you know," bellowed a strangely refined, deep voice, as a cloud of smoke filled the chamber.

The sound of clattering steel echoed through the cavern, as the fearful adventurers took to flight.

"...rude, indeed..."

033: dialogue

"So why is it that we never learn about the heroes of our age?"

The youth posits the question to his peers, knowing all the answers will be different but only on the surface. The group of eight gathered look out of place in the small town diner, receiving an unfair amount of stares from the local patrons. After a few moments of thought, the assembled voices rise up to answer, as a conversation follows that would enlighten the masses if only the voices could carry so far.

The diner empties of the usual crowd. Eight more voices are ignored...

032: loneliness

A single tear rolled down her porcelain cheek, made radiant by the glow of the moon. A sympathetic wind rolled by, trying to carry the droplet away, but succeeded only in tousling the short locks made silver by the moonlight. Though the breeze had been warm, the girl shivered, holding her legs close as though if her arms let go, they would run from her. Yet, her eyes shone like the stars watching far above, as she searched the sea of stars.

"Where are the eyes that search for mine?" she softly whispered.

There was silence...soon broken by sobs.

031: deluge

The rain falls hard, threatening to crack open the aged glass of our windows. It's been like this for days now; just how many, I've lost track. Most of the soil has given-up its bounty of living green; now, grasses and gardens alike are drowning under the ponds that have formed everywhere. It's only a matter of time before we'll have to build a boat from the floorboards...or at least, what dry floorboards we have. 'Course, not much is dry anymore. The only thing we have left is that the dam upriver has yet to burst.

Oh no...

030: breathless

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in the contaminated air into virgin lungs, ripping apart capillaries with particles too small to be seen, as blood cells gasp for the sweet taste of fresh oxygen.

Breathe out the silent shrieks of a life gasping for the breeze, the freedom of movement promised by the dance of infinitesimally minute particles all around, as pollutants from the heavens and earth corrode the spirit and the body it calls "home."

Breathe in the dashed hopes for peace and tranquility.

Breathe out the last dream of a confined soul.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Just don't hyperventilate...

029: endings

Strange music seeps into the out-of-doors, as loud clattering and smashing provide a beat for the distant ghosts. Human voices twist together in an out-of-tune harmony; the verses, sometimes in English and sometimes in a primal tongue, spin a tale of endless hearts and broken nightmares. As the music swells into the open street, it echoes into the ears of ghastly remnants of joyful memories.

Without missing a beat, a door bursts open with a syncopated rhythm, in-time with the atonal singing following the drummer into the open air.

Such a sad song it makes...

028: stars

The stars twinkle and shine up above, and yet my thoughts are not in the heavens, but with you. Once, I would stare at the sky at night, and begin to dream of someday meeting the one I was "destined" to love...then came that age of reason, when I knew that choice, not destiny, was what brought hearts together. For that, I learned to fear looking up, the vast celestial expanse forcing me into wounds still yet to be healed. And yet, here I stand now, under the eyes of infinite observers...looking up once again.

Thanks to you.

027: flow

The beat drops. Yet all the pen can give is frustrated line after line of empty words, turns of phrase that lead into dead ends of dead air. The poet of the beat throws aside headphones into a box of crumpled rhymes unspoken, the beats drowning in balls of paper flooding over the floor. He looks up at the icons of his art, portraits of poets suspended above the cold slab of steel from which all his greatest rhymes are born. The eyes of those who came before look on in blessing. Living eyes open wide. The poet begins anew...

026: lair

A dim glow seeped into the subterranean room, in-between an intermittent flashing of light from a series of gauges and computer screens. Inside, the craggy walls were adorned with tubing bending every which way, with the occasional control panel or computer monitor emerging from the jagged rock. Sitting alone in the center of the room, the small shining figure frantically typed-away at a simple keyboard, staring into the large monitor at its front with a single glowing eye. With a keystroke, the room went black.

Hollow laughter soon echoed throughout.

"It has begun..." spoke a metallic, raspy voice.