InterrogationThree days of rain had come to an end; Jeff Kuhn's boots squelched in the grass of a backyard on the north end. He paused a moment when the porch light sensed he and Talobor Pavlevic's movement. Talobor, who they called "Ludilo" behind his back, was an enormous man with a square head and a broad chest, the typical Bosnian track-suit wearing gangster. Jeff hated the nine-mil toting psychopath.Clear sky, blinking aircraft lights motoring between the stars. It was a good night for a fire, like a family down the street. A good night to go to the trailer park and find a party, or maybe head to the bar with dad and patch things up. Instead he and Talobor were out to solve the mystery of who put two bullets in Andre's brain. And somehow he had to find evidence that pointed anywhere but at himself.This was one of those nights he desperately wished for a regular job.Talobor made a face that told Jeff to get moving, so he did. The way up and across the porch Kuhn thought angrily, eat shit.
4242: Fundamental LawsHeld in place by enormous steel couplers, the General Esteban Navarro dwarfed every explorer, medical transport, and freight slinger on the station docks. It was big enough, Ramon Galvez figured looking up at its nose from a port bar, that oncoming traffic could see it from a thousand miles away. He puffed on a cigarette and drank overpriced beer from one of those odd hourglass pints that were so popular in these places.It was a hell of a ship, yessir. A little less than a kilometer long, though to be fair most of that length was made up by the strange matter drive. Bristling with laser cannons and rail guns and missile launchers and mine layers that weren't a hell of a lot of use unless you had somewhere real nice to hide. Ramon stubbed out his smoke in the ashtray, with more force than he intended.The strange character who sat across the table noted Ramon's frustration. A tall, rugged human in his forties, the man had sat watching the Navarro's captain wordlessly and with obvious a
Two AM, At A PlaygroundThe streets all slick with rain reminded him of a hazy digital painting, the lights in their puddles formed with exaggerated, unpolished brush strokes. A half-dozen men and women in front of the bar, all lit up by the big white light hanging over the bouncer, formed the only distinct part of the scene. He wished he knew how to paint the things he saw.Standing beneath a playground, he looked miserable and out of place. The loaded revolver in his right hand looked more like a child's toy in this setting. What a place for a skid bar like that, he thought, just across the street from an elementary school. Tomorrow if all went as planned the kids who played on these swings and platforms would be stuck behind yellow tape, their vacation place home to grisly murder.Murder as committed by Jeff Kuhn, a man who played the part of a lost high school graduate far better than that of a hitman.Nearly ten to two. The greasy biker son of a bitch would be coming out any minute, dragged drunkenly alo
Early WinterDeath drives a green Packard. Depression era, with modern bumper stickers and parking tickets which, if you look closely, were written out by Hammurabi. I met him once, he’d pulled up outside my house and hopped out for a smoke break on the street. He looked like he didn’t have anything to do when, far as I know, somebody dies once every few seconds, somewhere. I went outside and asked him who he was after."You. But not for a while. Y’know Arnold Rothstein got shot just three blocks from here?""I thought he was killed in New York. Definitely in America.""Who you gonna believe?"Death flicked his smoke to the asphalt and crushed it with a casual twist of his purple dress shoe. Then he drove off, leaving me feeling a little melancholy and a little drained. Never could get the hang of snow in October.
HelenaFlames cross the horizon on stilts of cast iron. Hot winds gust from seams in the earth. An old man babbles about salvation. There is no business here. No dreams. No illusions. What was is long lost and the remnants are not memories, they are daggers through the soul.Repentance is for the weak, I said. Well, the old girl is sure to bleed my resolve.
Late to the PartyAt quarter-past one AM, dispatch sent me a noise complaint in Somerton Tower, a ritzy place four blocks south of Granville Street. Every so often I'd receive this sort of call, and head up to some obnoxious cocktail party attended by thirty or forty upper class men and women listening to pounding electronic music. This one was different though; there was some suspicion of domestic violence.I pulled up to the sidewalk out front and hopped out of my cruiser. It was Friday night--little packs of young people stumbled along on their way to the bars and nightclubs of Granville, or to underground shows to see some of the hundreds of death metal bands. Most of them became instantly nervous around the sight of white and blue, and even more so when the red stripes on my pants told them I was RCMP.They weren't in any danger. A cop in Vancouver who wants to bust everyone with more than an ounce of weed in their pocket or a couple ecstasy tablets is a very, very busy fool. I craned my head to lo
The Day of the Falling SkySand fell through the earth, invisible and intangible. In every corner of the world, confused and uneasy people listened to its strange sound, like white noise on a television cranked up just a little too loud. Very few of us understood what this heralded: the vanguard of our new masters was near, and humanity was soon to suffer the agony of enslavement under crazed despots. I had to spare my wife and son the misery.When I first heard the Sand, my team was in Hawaii, scouring a beach covered in a strange sort of mass suicide: thousands of dolphins and sharks had washed up on the shore days earlier. Voluntarily, in a mass migration we had surveyed from above as it happened, without concern for the prey they passed up, the creatures of the deep sea threw themselves onto dry land and died. I was walking alongside an associate, Dr. Ehlers, both of us clad in MOPP suits, carrying cases of tissue samples.For a little over a year, we had known what was coming. They spoke to us, They spoke t
Neither Death Nor Reincarnation Can Destroy LoveWith morning comes dread. Once again, I open my eyes and find I am still trapped in this small body, my hearth and home a mere black pit at the heart of an oak tree. I unfurl from my own bushy tail and clamber out of my nest of twigs and refuse, and creep to the opening through which the sun pours its taunting light.I must go on. This I tell myself every day when I scan the skies in fear of a bird of prey. I must go on, for Clara and the boys. They have no idea, of course. It would be an absurd tale even if I could vocalize it for them: their husband and father, reincarnated in the body of a rodent with all memories of his past life intact. I must go on, so that I may help them in some small way, but I can never again know Clara's warm embrace or the joy one of my jokes gives to the kids.I zip down the tree and onto open ground. Look left and right; nothing has spotted me, but the neighborhood tomcat always lurks through these parts before noon. Clara is getting the boys ready for an
Duel on Tsymenadae-7Yuri locked his eyes to the creature's sensory bulbs. It couldn't make any facial expressions he could truly comprehend, but the second it scuttled out from behind the chipped shale and into brilliant purple daylight, he knew there was only one way this first contact was going to end. He darted his eyes to the neon map in the corner of his helmet visor: everyone else was backing slowly toward the ship.This monstrous little alien shimmied its weight a little closer, a little further into the open, and it slid one of its pseudo-pseudopods into the sleeve of what could only be a disintegrator. Yuri's hand hovered over his own, strapped to his leg. What he wouldn't give for a personalized spatial distortion field! If only the new equipment had actually arrived before they were sent to this godforsaken chasm of savage space!Gradually, the human slowed his breathing. He needed a steady hand; if he drew too quickly he'd miss by a mile, and there was no way of knowing how accurate a bolt fro
The FeelingLove is the feelingOf being hit in the chest by a tidal wave,A feeling as heavy and crushingAs earth thrown into a grave,And it could paveThe way to happinessOr lead us into Hell.Love is that feelingWhen nothing matters but then it doesIn high definitionAnd in your head is an endless repetitionOf every moment you’ve everSpent together.Love is that feelingWhen someone else is your oxygen;You need them to survive,And every time you touch,Even in your dreams,Is the only time you feel alive.Love is that feelingWhere everything is beautifulBecause your eyes have been stolenBy an angelBut everything is as secureAs it is fragile.Love is that feelingWhen you know it’s all overBut you can’t bring yourself to hateThem because you want them to be happy,Even if their happinessIsn’t you.
i will not tolerate anything but love from youI left lithe lilieson your porch step,petals open, smoothwith the sun's caress.You left me frost flowers.icy stems cracking withthe slightest touch.'But they are beautiful,'you pleaded as I pouredwater onto them, meltingtheir wintry exterior.'They are, but I despisewinter because you alwaysleave me icebound.'
BelovedThe aegis shielding heaven from earth gives way –you float down like a feather, fleshly pluckedfrom the wings of a dove,the sweetest curves and effervescent beautyof your mouth remind me of home.Darling love, the harmony of touch iseverlasting – whenever Istar gaze into your eyes, with wanderlust,and the crust of this gentle mothercan no longer proclaim me.Just as she could not have held you from themoment He breathed life into your halcyon bones,while caught between a ballad and a poem.The warmth of winterwould align their hearts again,two souls united together in twilight –surely nirvana has always meant to definethe quietest moments spent with you where nosyllables need be uttered, no furtive signs.A reunion, my beloved – tosimply feel the grace of your hands laced in mine,as we reach the ultimate enlightenment inthe seraglio of each other's blinks, thumps,and sighs – these are my treasures divine.
Crocodile X reader: You're the only one for me.You were some what bummed that you didn't get the partner you wanted while the game played on. You even stayed behind to see if your secret crush even put in an item to play the game...but alas, he did not play. Whom was your secret crush? Well, that should be quite obvious...it was Crocodile!You didn't know what it was, whether it was his hook, the scar across his face, the cigar or his muscular body...but mmmmm! Damn! He was a nice piece of work! But...you'd never say such thoughts out loud, hell you'd probably walk up to him and say 'I like sand too.." and then walk off hurriedly so that the biggest reaction you would probably get out of the former warlord would be a raised eye brow.But seriously, he could have played and gotten seven minutes alone with any of the pretty ladies on that ship several years ago...but why didn't he? Well.. now was the time to ask him yourself. For there he was; sitting at a café, along with his blade-blade fruit partner. They were reading a newsp
Seven Kisseso 1 oTentative, one reaches out to carefully brush a lock of short hair out of a slim face, revealing a pair of sharp eagle eyes and a jagged scar. His eyes, however, take nothing into account but the slim lips where his thumb now rests. Slowly, moving as if trying not to spook a wild creature, he presses in close, hesitating at the last moment before contact is made, unsure.The moment is broken when she presses in herself, hooking a hand around his neck and kissing him deeply.o 2 oSoft, teasing murmurs and playful quips slip between a pair of lips held just barely apart, the two comfortable in their closeness. It's taken them a long time to reach this point, but now they are here it's as if they had been there forever. He reaches out and flicks teasingly at her nose, falling a little more in love as she scowls and wrinkles it cutely. In response, she calls him a disparaging name - though her bright, affectionate eyes soothe away all sting. With a smile, he closes his
November SkyThis is where we come to get lostWhere the horizon meets with suddenThe ease of orange marmalade and honeyBut passion strikes us in its reflectionCascading desire for the unattainableBurning blistering in our hands as weCatch stars like fallen embers which aroseFrom fires burning to challenge the coldIn nights bewitching the tempest of twilightThough silently soothing like cinnamon in fall
cedar lungsOctober heart; you fell out of a tree-house.Unaware and scared of not making itto the lake before it froze over,you rolled down the lane and ended upon my front lawn under the big oleanderwhere my dad serenaded my mom on theirfirst date almost twenty years ago today.Oh was it destiny?No, I don't think so..I don't believe in all thatpsychic garbage, anyway.Oh but I'd like to thinkwe'd had it coming whenwe subconsciously made wishes onfalling stars when we were kids.You wanted a friend, someonewho wouldn't run away whenyou told him the sad stuff;winter trauma, cars slidingdown Alberta highways.I just wanted a letter froma prison inmate; my brother,some recognition that I wasstill in his memory,locked away for somethinghe did his last year of high school;behind the sunflowers and the pines,behind the dried-up lakes and rockystate lines dividingour traditional homes.Oh where do we go whenthere's no one around to listento our angry murmurings,journal entries
My FlowerI am onewith specksof dustin the voidmeant to fallupon a fieldleft behindages agoand when we landthey will compose meas a live sculpturethe union of nothingand Allat lastI will searchfor my Flowerwith silver petalstheir numberunknownwhich adornits black stalkand my armswill reachfor a petalof silverto keep it closeto my heartalas, I fadeand my timecollapses into sandbut no traceof fearshivers my soulfor I shall returnever to lay eyesupon the shineof its silverand to takeone more petalfor anothereternity. ~NK
Summer AesthesiaStarfall in the eyesA bright blaze, another oneOne by oneBurning violently, horizon strewnPlayful eyelidsHurryingTo catch them, to entrap themAbove the foundationBuilt by lipsOne by oneSweet menacing at duskShivering above us, inside usBurning cumulusMirrorof your crimson cheeksLookInside your eyes, there I am lostthere I shall build my solaceInterstellar rainbows, mountain springsElements of lifeHeavy with starfallThe two of usA pairAngels in the grassFingers entwinedBlue arcs of electricityPortents of lifeFrom skin to skinFingers sliding, pressing harderIn betweenYour hand, kept in mine, kept in yoursSafeLet’s watchThe starfall, each otherExchangeOne burning galaxyFor another.
Love Poem, or: Fuck You, Pablo NerudaEmily is so prettyThat when other chicks are around herThey burst into big stinky bagsOf horse poop.At least as far as I'm concerned.They might still be alive.But fuck 'em.
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