premeditated
first drop of silent fear
flows its course
Through My Heart #pain
Tag: blood
Zilch, Zophiel, Zero… #atozchallenge
Zilch, is all’s I ever got. My wife, the harpy, continually nags me to take her places.
I thought, “Peru is some place.”
The Inca ruins were breathtaking.
All I heard was, “The mountains are freezing.
So I bought Marjorie a coat made from mountain goat’s wool.
Later that day, we climbed to Machu Picchu.
We were standing on a cliff enjoying the magnificent view when a Harpy Eagle swooped down and seized her.
Soaring into a canyon, he dropped her on the jagged rocks.
He thought she looked like a tasty goat.
Now how’s that for ironic?
A Harpy eating a harpy.
***
Many thanks to my friend Steve Slack who pulled off not only a great “Z” for the end of the A to Z Challenge, but he did it in less than 100 words – Bravo Steve.
And here’s a tantalizing tidbit from Matt Harrill’s new serial The ARC Legacy that will be coming in 2016
***
His hands balled in fists, Zophiel dropped to his knees, his robes spreading about him.
Tears of purest light streamed down his face, glistening like the first rays of dawn on the morning of the first day. His head hung low.
“Metatron, my brother, is dead…” The whisper came from clenched teeth.
The lips peeled back as his shoulders trembled, the feathers on his enormous wings starting to shake as grief very evidently became rage. Those nearby took a step back.
“They did this.” His eyes opened, and the crystal blue had been replaced with irises of darkest night. “Release Nibiru,” he growled. “Unleash the host.”
“Zophiel, no,” Ioviel gasped. “The world will end.”
“The world has ended.”
***
And one final visit to the dark streets of New Cago…
“Luz, we are down to Zero!” Sam’s hands grew numb as he held a lifeless hand.
It was true the last of his friends (and hers) were dead.
Sam was all that was left, strangely he was more driven.
“Our blood gives you the best chance to succeed, Sam.”
“All my friends are dead and I’m supposed to be comforted?”
“No time for tears, Sam.” A woman who was wearing one pink slipper whispered.
****
“Zeek, today is your lucky day!”
Sam held a list. He gladly put a line through the last name – in blood.
Many thanks to the A to Z crew for another great year. I would like to put in one more mention for the Fill the Cracks program for children Orphaned by Ebola. We appreciate any support – reblogs, tweets…
Spoiler Alert!!!
The writers are loose
I Need a Transfusion #halloween #poetry #horrorweek
Suspended above the clouds
captive of a swoon
what magician’s trick
hung me by the moon
life leaves me in sleep
celestial I drift
all Hallow’s calamity
my blood forever drips
DRIP, Drip, drip…
silent as the dead
the jack-o-lantern jeers
fear we now instead
notes that gave a tip
to get inside our head
wiggle with our fears
more we have to dread
a new report we get
she shot twice in the head
little ones are dear
no hallows – early now to bed
Zodiac killer rips
a community is fed
killings through the years
we can only hope you’re dead
My first poem was written before Susan put up the completion for the Poet’s United prompt: The real story what is Halloween to me? To many of us who were in the San Francisco Bay Area- Halloween meant the Zodiac killer might be on the loose. I was trying to compose a short story about this killer and what it was like as a child growing up with a killer on the loose for years. The Zodiac serial killings is a cold case; the man killed 20 (or more people) and would send chilling notes through the newspapers making his threats.
This painting is a remake of Henry Fuseli’s Nightmare. I normally couldn’t do this to art but everyone else tends to mess around with Fusseli.
Please forgive my theatrics- I am having way too much fun with blood this week.
And while the blood drips why not follow the grim reaper in catching some horror book giveaways over at Coffin Hop!
Broken Vow #poetry #photography
Words whispered in candle light
trust of one
vows spoken
perhaps intentionally taken
by one
long stem roses
often sent
no reason given
who were they to?
red with guilt
vow given
twisted thorns
agreement sealed
the last petal falls
in blood
Fresh #poetry #photography
Fresh
fallen the night before
crisp
footprints on distant shore
crystalline
capturing fallen light
colorful
red rose smiling bright
holding
hands clasped this day
speechless
love needed nothing to say
vowed
spoken to the skies
renewed
snowflakes in our eyes
free
petals fall in the breeze
laughter
whispers spoken to the trees
fallen
strong stood aged oak
memory
song where new life awoke
reaching
striving for the sun
hoping
new path on which to run
Newness a prompt from Poet’s United.
Undone #poetry #photography #art
Slain
by your sharp edged heart
well aimed piercing
dart
*
Dripping
off the edge of my page
blood flows free at this
stage
*
Alone
none to hold back the pain
too late to catch bloody
rain
*
Undone
mere ashes in your hands
fiend, my death so long
planned
Art and Photograph “Undone” © L. Moon 2013
Gateway to Death #poetry #photography
Bolted twice and once padlocked
Hairs rose on my back as I passed
“what can fools fear here”
the crows mocked
death’s never taken its last
*
Boney fingers in a long, far reach
striving against iron grate
“warm healthy blood
I offer one taste
no fear there’s the strong, sturdy gate “
*
blood rose and poured out my mouth
foaming it took out my teeth
“release me”
I cried to no one
up drove creped horse with black wreath
*
Unbolted twice and unpadlocked
Hairs rose on my back as it passed
“you are a fool
to have come here”
death’s reaper has taken his pass
***
This is just a taste to wet your lips. Go to Pen of the Damned and get a full coarse meal of death.
“Feast at my burial. I’ll bring the beer.”
Photograph: “Hell’s Gate” © L. Moon 2013
Blood in its wake #flashfiction #newcago #noir
I stood in a daze my mouth agape
out of nowhere came a colorful bus travelling much too fast
Its wheels barely touching the pavement.
I heard a woman scream and then saw her emerge from the bus’ bloody wake
Staggering, she strained toward the guarded doorway
Never acknowledging my presence, she pled with the stoic, holographic image
“Please grant me entrance. I am wounded.”
I shook my head in sadness. ” Poor soul- death’s fog is rolling in.”
To my surprise the barricaded door opened
she stumbled over the threshold
With not a moment of thought, I entered behind her
Thanks to Indira for the Photograph: “Fleeting”-copyright-indira-mukherjee
(I doctored up the coloring to give the red highlights)
Thanks to Rochelle who manages a bus load of Flash Fictioneers each week and keeps us on our toes. This week is no exception – Join Us as we strive to write something in 100 words!
NewCago is a noir, metropolitan area that is plagued with a string of perhaps para normal bad guys. Sam (a private detective) seems to be the only one who can stay alive long enough to protect the citizens. How long can his luck last???
Last week Sam faced up with a holographic guard who was guarding a passageway the Sam somehow knew he must enter. Follow Sam inside as he unravels the death and deception in New Cago.
Week 13 Holographic Deception
Here’s a list of the previous stories (the clues were week 11 & 12)
Week 10 in Newcago Serial No Dial Tone
Week 9 in Newcago serial Gathering Bodies
Week 8 in Newcago serial No place to hide
Week 7 in Newcago serial They were Pink
Week 6 In Newcago Serial You poison filled wasps
Week 5 in Newcago Serial The Doom Cycle
Week 4 in Newcago Serial Helpless
Week 3 in Newcago Serial When the Lights Go On
week 2 in Newcago Serial Can’t Kill The Thirst
Week 1 in Newcago Serial Secret Weapon
Hard To Read #fiction #poetry
Pain – these words
each one excising flesh
severing my nerves
taking my breath
*
fictitious you may be
I hear the victim’s cry
willing you to flee
wrings me dry
*
your type never benign
you stalk the pages
your sinister breathed lines
predator of the world’s stage
***
I am presently editing a crime fiction. The story line is excellent, compelling and you can’t put the novel (“The Man Who Tattooed Women” by Newt Livesay) down. However, an editor like a surgeon has to look at everything. With my knife (pen), I have to examine each word for clarity and placement. I must stare the perpetrator in the face and hear the victim scream in slow motion. I realized that I subconsciously refused to edit several chapters because the graphic content is so arresting. So here I am (past my deadline) looking in the heinous face of a serial killer, feeling the blood drip down the victim’s leg, trying to cover my eyes but I can’t.
I had to take a poetry break to wash the blood from my hands.
The Message Behind the Dress #flashfiction #newcago
It had been a glorious, humm dinger of a day in NewCago.
We celebrated a holiday (the key players long forgotten) of a well-known street battle that had raged years ago.
The gangs remembered and agreed to keep the streets safe for one day.
The parade-route litter of popcorn bags and soda cups was a welcome relief.
On my walk home I saw it swinging in the lazy breeze of the tenement’s rusty fire escape.
Lily’s white glad rags were dripping with blood-red.
It was a signal; it had to be. But who was the message from?
” Lily what does this mean, Baby?”
Another week of Friday Fictioneers is in full swingggg. Our hostess is the inspirational Rochelle and our photo prompt credit goes to Janet Webb.
This is another 100 word offering being added to a growing series of stories set in the dark metropolitan city of NewCago. There are many loose strings, unanswered questions about this metropolitan society that is sinking into the mire. Sam seems to be the only one to keep the bad doings at bay but how much longer???
Week 10 in Newcago Serial No Dial Tone
Week 9 in Newcago serial Gathering Bodies
Week 8 in Newcago serial No place to hide
Week 7 in Newcago serial They were Pink
Week 6 In Newcago Serial You poison filled wasps
Week 5 in Newcago Serial The Doom Cycle
Week 4 in Newcago Serial Helpless
Week 3 in Newcago Serial When the Lights Go On
week 2 in Newcago Serial Can’t Kill The Thirst
Week 1 in Newcago Serial Secret Weapon
penned in moon dust 