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  • City of the Dead – Through the Trees

    Dontarius opened his tired eyes.  The light from the morning sun was sifted through the thick leaves.  In front of him stood rows of thick trees most bound with a thick rope-like material.  Dontarius was tied tightly to a tree.  The material wound around his waist and chest.  Beside him was a winged man.  A tall thin-faced man with large wings bound by the same material.

    “What is going on?”  Dontarius’s voice was raspy, he cleared it.  “What did you and your people do?”

    “You will thank us,”  the winged man replied.

    “I’m not very thankful right now.”

    Behind both men something shuffled quickly followed by a quiet chant.  Dontarius stiffened and pushed against the tree.  He attempted to make himself small which was impossible.  Within moments smaller men marched past the trees.  The smaller men marched in 6 columns all perfectly measured and stepping in time.  After 5 rows of men they turned right and unbound several bound persons.  They helped them down slowly.  Covered their heads briskly and turned back toward Dontarius.  The small men marched forward.  They wore a covered hood which buried their faces.  “They are the mirror-keepers.”  Said the winged man.  “I don’t know much else about them.  I, along with the other Eros kind, tend to stay within the mountains.”

    The noise from the winged man prompted several of the mirror-keepers to look up.  Their faces were black, frightening.  Their small eyes pale and hung above the nose.  Dontarius froze and stared forward.  He wished the small men away but they marched slowly away from the trees.

  • City of the Dead – Dragon Heart

    The dragon hovered over the train.  It’s head was arrow-shaped and it had an extended neck that whipped around like a snake.  It’s abdomen was small leading to a long tail which ended in a split-shape almost like a trident.  It’s wings were humongous.  They were large leather and bone contraptions.  Every time the large beast would bellow out a shot of fire the wings seemed to get in the way.  They would char, leaving small red balls of flame, but would then extinguish quickly.  The large bird man held Dontarius tightly as it fought to avoid the blaze but the dragon out maneuvered and faced the bird man.  The tip of the dragon’s nose smoldered and it’s entire head bled smoke.  The bird man attempted to fly down and right but the dragon countered.  Other bird men flew from other directions.  Suicide missions that were intended to distract the dragon and save lives but only took them.  The dragon opened it’s large dinosaur jaws and snapped each creature the flew near.  The large bird man attempted to fly right then left again but the dragon read each move.  From inside the dragons mouth shadows of it’s large teeth danced in front of an orange glaze.  Smoke began to billow from the dragons nose then mouth.  The dragon opened his mouth wider and the bird man dropped Dontarius.

    Dontarius fell through the sky face down.  A bullet of warmth cruised from his head to toes as the ground became closer and closer.  The station was four-hundred yards behind him.  Beneath him was a thick blanket of trees.  Green mushroom shaped bringers of pain and death.  Dontarius was two-hundred feet from the ground when he was dropped.  His hands and feet went numb with anticipation as the tree line quickly approached.

    Dontarius hit the treeline and disappeared within the forest.  The first limb struck him hard in the gut and another in the chest.  The wind in his lungs swept from his chest and he gasp.  The weight of his feet pulled him down and then backward.  He then fell another twenty feet to a tri-fecta of pain and agony.  A large limb caught him and spun him into a pair of smaller limbs.  Those limbs held for seconds as he caught his breath then tumbled into the trunk when they gave way.  The remaining fall went dark.  Dontarius went unconscious.

    End Chapter 1

    The rest of this submission will likely be put somewhere till I complete it at the end of the month.  Knowing me I will not be a stranger to posting because I get excited about these awesome stories.  I still have some other projects I’m working on.  I’m hoping to still post a minimum of 300 + words for City of Zombies.. Thanks for reading.. 🙂

  • The Long Black Train – Original

    The netherworld has no cows so the train has no cow catcher. The large outward grill of an earthly steam-powered train is absent but the tall round-edge box on wheels rolls past slowly as the Narcissus’s forest approaches. Above the train and into the night shoots a tall cylinder of white smoke. Behind the smoke stack sits a taller box. Within that box sits the operator. The operator stands half in and half out of this world. A faint flicker of life trapped within a steel prison. Unlike the earthly steam-powered machine this black train runs on the essence of life.  This molecular essence of every living being on the train is collected within a steel-walled tender or coal car.  This car had a set of ledges, one on top and the second two feet above the train wheels.  The ledge on the top was merely decorative but the one on the bottom was two foot wide, barely enough room to walk across.  To help the engineer aluminum hand holds were placed at body length along both sides of the car.  In the center of the car, painted on both sides, was ‘Spirit of the Dead’.  The engineer stayed in the next car, a passenger car.  The car was black, with windows gray from soot from the engine chimney.  The soot contains the remains of the evil in men’s heart.  These remains forever pushed into the atmosphere of the netherworld.  Within the gray windows and inside the passenger car sits a steel chair and upon the chair is chained the engineer.  Like Charles Dickens fabled protagonist the chairs bind the engineer to his earthly sins till his penance is paid.   Following behind the engine was hundreds of caged cars. The cars wooden planks shake in small metal slots as the train moves forward over its iron track.

    You know about the Train, and the Engineer but inside the wooden train cars, within the thick film of the spirits of the dead lay the living. Being alive in the Netherworld is not supposed to happen but it does. On the living world it was compared to a ‘dime a dozen’. In this world it is an advantage and a curse. The floor of the train car is slick with ethereal goo. The large wooden sliding doors are closed leaving only bars of early evening light. The stranger lays unconscious on the wooden floor of the train car. The thin film from the floor covering his face, arm and shoulders. It hides the dark uniform with the red sewed badges on his long arms. His attractive features, the sculpted chin and the military hair cut. Above his chin and past his sharp nose hides two beautiful blue eyes, hidden behind heavy lids.

    The darkness pressed upon the stranger as he stared upward at the thin strips of light from the moon. The train car rattled loudly and chills danced from the tips of his fingers to the back of his shoulders. The stranger listened to whispers that passed through his ears. The whispers spoke of love lost, love found and life taken but the stranger could see nothing. The physical necessity to his sense of sight and hearing was missing. That was until something thumped upon the top of the car. The light skittered around several objects which began to move above. Then within seconds a large hole was torn from the top of the car. The moonlight fell through to the car floor. Silver forms appeared but quickly disappeared into the darkness. The chill from the strangers shoulders fell downward covering his back, arms and hands. He was paralyzed with fear from the overwhelming invasion of his senses. From the roof of the car the hole was ripped wider till it was wide enough for two men to jump through but it wasn’t a man that sank into the car. From the moonlight the stranger could trace the framework of a large bird. It’s two large feet curled with several large knuckles on three toes. Upon the toes were large triangular claws.

  • Dream – Falling off a Tower

    Occasionally I will have, what I call, visions.  These graphic daydreams show up and take me away for seconds at a time.  I thought I would start recording them within a new series of blog posts.

    There a a tall water tower… guessing its about 140 foot up.   A large bulbous section of the tower was colored with long droplets of dark blue.  The blue droplets stopped mid-way down and the remaining tower was painted white.  Just under the bulbous section is a group of hand holds stacked vertically.  The were out of place, which is why it held my attention.

    The super star, I imagine I am, hung from the bottom rung 100-foot in the air.  No safety gear just me and a crap load of adrenaline.  Confidently, I grab the second rung.  My fingers grasp the iron rungs like a clamp as my right arm holds all my weight.  I reach up for the second rung and transfer the weight to my left hand.  The third rung sits, what seems like ,a mile away.  My left arm prepares for the weight as my right carefully lets go.  My feet slip off the smooth white surface of the water tower and I hang precariously by my left hand.  Like a movie star in an action flick, I recovered and both hands held securely to the third rung.

    A new problem arose, which I hadn’t thought of before I decided to hang from the rungs.  There were no more rungs and nothing to put my feet on.  There was a thin iron rail that ran around the tower but it was just below the first rung.  I, being 6-foot tall, was unable to bend into that position so I was stuck.  My arms pulsating and my hands screaming for me to let go.  Eventually, I did and I began to fall backward.  Imagine all the passengers, driving by on the freeway, screaming as they watch a normal looking man falling 100 foot to the ground.  Imagine me, the wind in my frightened hair, falling what 60 miles and hour to the ground?

    I can only imagine the initial fright as I begin to fall.  I can’t even fathom the feeling on impacting the grass and concrete underneath the ground.  I will likely be quick, but what if it’s not.  What if I am lying there conscious wanting to die?

    Luckily it’s only a dream.

  • We carry sand in our shoes

    I really enjoy this poem

    words on a blackboard's avatarWords on a blackboard

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    We carry sand in our shoes –
    Pieces of reality.
    The roads we walk get us far into the hearts.
    And the eyes get blind.

    We carry sand in our shoes
    To feel the touch of life as we dream
    Cause in dreams we get lost
    And darkness is mistaken by light.

    We carry sand in our shoes
    As time quickly goes by…
    Love is a heartbeat that dies
    And sand is all we’ve got left.

    We carry sand in our shoes
    And for each grain,
    We make wishes and hope…
    Maybe the sand will make us feel again –
    That we have grounds under the feet.

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  • The Key to GOOD Writing is BAD Writing

    The Key to GOOD Writing is BAD Writing

    I so agree. The single thing that started my blogging so many years ago was a little challenge that involved writing a book in 30 days. This broke me from that broken need to be absolutely perfect.

  • Charlie

    My favorite short story. Bring it back up to the front 🙂

    kingsboro2008's avatarMatthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive

    The sun stood staring down from its mid-day perch. Larry walked across his small yard with a fishing pole on his shoulder and two smaller ones in his left hand. Erica, a blond explosion of energy bounded around him while Robert moped several feet behind both of them.

    “Why do we have to do this again,” Robert said.

    “Because I don’t get to take much time off anymore. This new job takes a lot out of me.”

    “Are we going to catch Charlie today, Daddy?” Asked Erica as she raced ahead.

    “I think we are, darling. Today is the day.”

    “You say that every time, Dad.” Said Robert as he reluctantly took one of the smaller poles from his father.

    “I say it everyday because one of these days I’m going to be right.” Larry smiled widely. He beamed down at his son and watched as his young daughter danced…

    View original post 2,103 more words

  • Answers to Questions about Vampires

    Answers to Questions about Vampires

    For future reference.. 🙂

    Juliette Kings's avatarVampire Maman

    Answers to stupid questions regular folks ask about Vampires:

    This is not my bed. I don't sleep in a box. This is not my bed. I don’t sleep in a box.

    No, bats don’t make good pets. They’ll die. Don’t do it.

    No, we don’t tear people’s throats out. Think of the mess. And seriously do you rip the door off of your refrigerator every time you get something to eat? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

    No, I don’t sleep in a coffin. I really want one of the Sleep Number beds.

    Yes, we are sensitive to light. Thank you for asking and pass the sunscreen.

    Yes, sometimes we do eat real food (we need fiber just like you).

    Yes, we do have paranormal powers. No I won’t tell you about them.

    Ask a Werewolf if you want to know about Werewolves.

    No, garlic will not kill us. Now your breath… that is another issue.

    No, a cross will not burn…

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  • MR MERCEDES by @StephenKing

    MR MERCEDES by @StephenKing.

    This looks good.. will have to add it to my to read list