A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “urban fantasy

Sky, falling

I remember the scratch of the wall at my back and my cheek when I woke up. The cool soft of its solid made me smile.

Sky bits decorated my warm paper cloak, melding faces and words, facts and lies, all into one soft shell that hugged me tight.

The sky fell and fell and fell, a tympani of pain in jungle green and neon blue. I looked for her, and the grin crawled onto my face with spider toes.

She crouched over the pond that feet had made on the step, squeezing tiny fish from the colors in her hair.

Each little brightness grew as it fell toward the pond, and landed with a splish of color and sound, before sprouting teeny fragile wings and flying away into the falling sky.

She wasn’t smiling. She never smiled. But her two-tone blue and green eyes twinkled like jewels as she followed each of her creations up and up and up.

She glanced at me, and nodded, as her dirty fingers worked another once-bright neon rainbow plait of hair, releasing another spark of color to its journey.

“They’re only going back…” She said. “Soon you will too.” She looked away, but a crooked smile twitched her lips, for just a moment.

Her voice knife rasped through my brain, and I shivered, and coughed. “Oh.” I said, and watched until the last scrap of color faded into sky.


Ripper (sample of wip)

(This is just a bit of a story I’m  working on, thought I’d throw it up here and see if anyone thinks it’s worth keeping.  ;p)

“…what I’m looking for…” The phrase drifts, a scrap on the wind, the ancient melody almost completely obscured by the whine of ‘Dogs antique gennies grumbling to life. “Yo,’Dog! You seen Tea?” Seadog turns his bullet-eyed glare from the grease-covered hulk in front of him, making damn sure I feel the sting before he speaks. “No.” Convo over, he turns the gaze back to the recalcitrant metal, which I swear seems to wriggle with shame before its heat. “Umm..right. Well, uh, if you do..” An impatient grunt is my only answer, which is anyway better than I expected.
‘Dogs moniker comes from his temper, rather than any oceanic experience… he’s Seadog cause he likes to jump salty at any time…so I know better than to expect any further clarification. “Thanks!” Dodging the random machine part that flies in my direction, I take off again through the yard, eyes peeled for my sister-bae. “Tea! Hey, Teabag! Wake up, damnit! We gotta get stripped, it’s fight night!” An irritated grunt from behind a pile of scrap heralds the appearance of a scarecrow-gurl…hay hair sticking out from under a grease mottled cap, shaking black-nailed (grime, not paint) hands shading red rimmed blue eyes in a streaked white face. The voice, when it comes, matches the affect. “Ahh, crom. Seriously? You’re not pulling one?”
I groan. “Tea…man…tell me you didn’t go partying the night before a fight…” The scarecrow shakes her head…although the face she pulls then says she regrets it. “I didn’t go partying the night before a fight…it was two nights ago.” She looks up at the sky as if she might spot a calendar up there somewheres, and grimaces. “…I think.”


Reply

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.

One for Crow boys, tall and dear,
perched atop a garden wall,
I heard them laughing and crept near,
I heard his lies…I heard it all.

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.

Second for the power that glows
within a tattered crow-black skin,
the skin our faithless crow boy chose
to keep his crow-shape safe within.

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.

I’ve clipped his wings, no more he’ll fly,
the power mine now, strong and new,
and from my hand he will not die…
but only for our Oaths so true.

Little sister, small and fair,
why ask for knowledge you will rue?
But, for the Oaths that we did swear,
three times three I’ll answer you.


Blue and Grey #4 (WIP, prose, crit. welcomed)

(This one is a bit longer, but it’s the end of the chapter and I didn’t see a good spot to cut it, so here it is.  :p  Hope it’s been a good ride so far…it’s been neat for me to see and know other people are actually reading it.  I’m thinking about trying to finish it before November, somewhere around 7,000 words or so…what do y’all think?  I’m halfway there, now, so I know it’s possible…but is that a good length for a short story?)

Sev scowled, and nodded. That’s sorted…go on, take it. She grinned, and began scooping up the pile, already scoping out the main drag for a good spot. Let the newbies take the one under the sunbeam, she’d take the one where the beam’d be once the people started coming…and -away- from the entrance, where the non-serious shoppers wandered in, and blocked off the view of the good ones. Cuddling the pile to her chest, she began shuttling back and forth, her grin widening as each new layer became visible. Putting each find where she felt it got the best show took the best part of an hour, and by the time she was done, the first trickle of customers was heading in. As usual, the day went by quickly…maybe a little too quickly. By the time the torches went on, and the night crowd started filtering through, she was already wondering what to do with herself that night. Tossing a quick if insincere grin up at her replacement as he approached, she sighed, and adjusted the new scarf she’d appropriated for herself as she stood. Ok, ok…you can have it. Anything happening?

He shook his head, already more interested in sorting and sifting. Party up t’the Hotties, but you know how that crowd gets…and I heard something about a new singer over t’the Kitchen Sync. Oh, and Jamie wants t’talk t’ya…said it’s important. Butt-in-a-sling kinda important. He looked sideways at her, quirking his lip at her suddenly nervous expression. Hell, relax…she prob’ly needs someone t’chew on for a while…it’s Jamie, y’know? If she don’t got somebody to bite ever day, she gets cranky. Maybe the Spikester ain’t been licking her boots right, huh? He grinned nastily, and put on a whiny tone of voice. Why doncha ever -listen- t’me, spikie? Left -then- right…left -then- right…are you just stupid? Is -that- your problem? Blue snorted…then outright giggled, swatting him beside the ear. You…are gonna get us -both- in trouble, she ever hears you do that. Ok, I’m off…just…be careful, huh? And don’t let that big piece go to anybody but Old Dave…he’s been looking for one just like it for-ever.

She shook her head, and headed off down the hall, after one last wistful glance at the treasures spread out all around her. Not till the weekend. Sellers-day was coming, just two more days…then she could pick and bargain…for whatever was left. She bit her lip, trying not to anticipate what this little “talk” with Jamie was about…Spike being her best friend wasn’t going to hold her here for -much- longer, especially if Jamie got wind of her…nocturnal activities. Sidling through the torchlit shadows, she wondered again what was with the lo-techs and lighting. Sure, it made it more…romantic, in here, and got people buying more…but they acted like even having lights back in the stores was somehow bad. Just a few little lights, and they’d double their productive time, instead of having to rush everything, then leave it sit all night. She shrugged, and slipped back into the shadows behind the “sales floor” with relief. Less smoky back here…and less temptation.

The store was dark, as usual, the only illumination coming from the tiny candle that sat in the mouth of the stores sign/mascot, giving a soft glow to her somewhat frantic looking features, and the tiny fire in the barrel that sat in the middle of the main room. The off-duty team sat around the barrel as usual, and someone had been in a giving mood, obviously…there was a strong smell of cooking meat, without the charred-hair smell that meant rat-thing, and a jug of chilled water sweated gently in the heat. She inquired as to Jamie’s placement with a raised ‘brow, and was directed to the back of the Lair…behind the double-row of beaded curtain that blocked off all light from the back room.

Boss? She moved to the curtain, parting it just enough to stick her head through…and received the usual grunt in reply. Slipping the rest of her way through the surprisingly heavy beads, she waited a second for her eyes to adjust, then paced forward to kneel down by the pair of figures who curled together in the middle of the cushions covering the floor. As her knees hit the cushion, two pairs of eyes opened, and one mouth grinned…but which was which was hard to tell. The gravelly voice that spoke was -definitely- Jamie, though…and -not- in a good mood, so most likely -not- the grin. What’re you doing, Blue? She blinked, confused, and shrugged. Talking to you? She tried. The voice snorted, and a rustle from the darkness revealed itself as Spike sitting up and moving out of range. Lemme clarify…what’re you doing that I don’t know about? That takes you out all damn night? That brings you back beat to hell and gone, and dirtier than a Raver at a Pow-wow? What…are you…doing?

Blue…gulped. I uh…I got stuff, boss. That’s all. You said, long as I’m working, you’re good. You said, when Spike and me got here. She blinked, as a light flared, revealing Jamie’s face all too close to her own, looking rather demonic in the flickering flame of the tiny tea-light candle. I said…yeah, I did. But that’s before I saw. You’re working, yeah. But one-a these days, you won’t be. You’ll be down t’fill, only -in- it, steada on it. Now me, longs it don’t affect the Claires, I don’t give a smack…but Spike, he likes ya, and I’m not liking it when he’s too worried about ya to do his…job, y’hear what I’m saying? She glanced over her shoulder at him, the look on her face softening into as normally…human…as Blue had ever seen. Spike, for his part, kept his eyes down, hiding his face behind his curtains of soft blond hair…but Blue could tell he was upset by the set of his shoulders. So…either y’tell me what’s happening…or I got no choice. I gotta letcha go.


Blue and Grey #2 (Prose, WIP, constructive criticism appreciated)

The rest was almost laughable in its anticlimax…at least, someday she’d laugh about it. For now, she simply relished the relative ease of making the careful stretch and scrabble to the next few rungs, then slipping sinously up onto the roof to look down on the milling, furious pack below. Sighing softly, she called down toward the street, couching her voice in as casual and concise a way as she could, considering her condition. “Here, boys…it’s over. Just go home now, like nice doggies…and maybe next time we’ll find time to play.” This had the expected effect of stirring them to frenzies of scrabbling and leaping after her, and she simply shook her head and turned to head home over the rooftops. The path was clear from here, and with the pack occupied below, as safe as any she’d find on street level.

It was a very tired and dirty Blue that slipped in through the gate at the back of The Mall that morning…not that anyone there would’ve recognized her in her current condition. She padded slowly down the cool floor with its tile pattern of blue and green waves, hearing the soft stirrings of morning in the stores as she passed. Head hanging low, she slipped under the curtain and into her current home, tossing a soft smile up at the ever-smiling head of the stores mascot/angel, above. Careful to find her way to the spot that she’d prepped behind a pile of boxes in the back storeroom, she collapsed on the cool cement floor, and fell asleep licking her wounds…

The sound of The Mall opening for business woke her several hours later, and she stretched, wincing as her elbows hit the sharp edges of the boxes, and her knee came unstuck from the floor, reluctantly. Sighing, she reached for the clothes she’d left here before heading out the night before and slipped them on, taking the time to examine herself from head to toe as she did. Apart from the long scrape on her side, and the cut on her knee, and the usual wicked headache, she seemed to have once more slipped through without taking any serious injury. How long this state of grace would last was unknown and unknowable, but for now she’d settle for being grateful it existed, instead of whining about it.

Tying her hair back in a loose messy knot, she made her way down the hall and out into the main store, carefully not meeting the accusing eyes of her “boss”, and the resigned pair belonging to her best friend. They sat curled up with each other in the soft corner, Jamie with one hand on Spikes head, stroking him like a pet. Jamie obviously felt that Blue was hiding something from her, (which to be fair, she was), and when Jamie was upset, Spike felt it as well, even though he had no real clue what. Blue sighed, already seeing the loss of yet another “family” and home in her near future.


Topside Down (Kava #3, prose)

As I opened my mouth to respond the usual way, with a smart-mouthed comment, I noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye.

The room, at least what I could see from my prone position, looked like a movie set for the interior of the Titanic. Heavy on the gilt and chandeliers, and pictures of people on the wall that all looked as though they’d swallowed a live fish and it wasn’t agreeing with them. All that wasn’t the strange part, though. The fact that the wall seemed to be melting…was.

I glanced at the wall and back at the Woman, just as she clued in, and a string of that strange trickle-purr language spewed from her mouth…but this time it was more like ice cold white-water over jagged rocks as crows cawed above. She jumped to her feet, holding back another spate of coughing by sheer force of will, and began unbuckling, unlacing, and unlocking the restraints that held me to the table.

Meanwhile, I was watching with no little apprehension as more and more of the “scenery” softened, liquified, and slowly began to drift down the wall. No idea what was happening, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. As soon as I was able to sit up I quickly finished off the rest of the restraints, swinging my feet off the table…which promptly disappeared, along with all the other furniture in the room.

The Woman in Red was finally unable to hold back another racking cough, although this one was interspersed with what I had to assume was her version of some very unhappy language. I moved to her, just as the floor seemed to tilt under our feet, leaving us at about a five degree slant upwards, toward the double doors. Deciding to act on my lifelong philosophy that cowardice is the better part of saving your life, I attempted to scoop up the Woman to carry her to the door.

I say attempted, as she didn’t move an inch, and I felt as if I had attempted to pick up a smallish pick-up truck. Through the cough, she shook her head, and straightened, holding her hand out to me. “I appreciate the attempt, Mr. “Blake”…but the support of your strong shoulder is all I need at this moment.” I moved so that she could rest her arm across my shoulders…felt like a couple bags of cement…and together we headed uphill toward the door. Where the walls had reached a certain point in their slow slide I saw behind some what appeared to be dirt, complete with very confused worms and plant roots, and behind the others, closer to the door, very old brick work…strange thing is it was placed…sideways?

All this was glimpsed as I struggled to reach the door, with a very beautiful and -very- weighty Woman as a complication. But finally we made it, and stood looking out into the hallway for a good five seconds before I could close my mouth. The hallway…although it’d be more proper to call it a tunnel, as it was round on all “sides” but the floor…was packed completely full with the strangest crowd I’d seen in my life…and believe me, that’s saying something.

Some walked, some scampered, some flew…a few even seemed to swim through the air…and all the traffic went one way. Up. The floor had tilted yet more, until everyone was climbing at about a 25 degree angle…which was fine for the flyers and swimmers, but not so much for the others. Then I saw one of the flyers pick up one of the smaller…things…and carry it to the end of the hall, where it promply dissappeared and the flyer came back for another. A pair of swimmers scooped another straggler, a lumbering fellow who looked to’ve been built of driftwood, up into a modified chair-carry and swam “upstream”…although slowed somewhat by their burden.

Around this point I realized that in the seconds that I’d been staring, the “floor” had tilted yet again, to an even steeper angle, and hurriedly waded out into the flow with the Lady. Startled by my own thought, I rewound and re-examined it, then turned to look at the object in question. Yeah, what my brain had instinctively recognized was a fact. This was not a Woman, or even the Woman…this was The Lady. Not that her appearance had changed any, or any other part of her…but every fibre of my body knew that this wasn’t someone to be fantasized about, or even casually admired…she was suddenly projecting an aura of majesty that I can’t say I’d ever felt before…or since, to be honest.

I carried/supported her out onto the sloped floor…and a movement out of the corner of my eye signaled the full collapse of the room we’d just left, leaving the door behind us looking down into a seemingly endless fall of black, rimmed with bricks and dirt until the light cut off the view. Gulping, I moved a bit further up the slope, as the crowd around us grew thinner and thinner, slowing to a trickle of the slower swimmers and flyers…and us. At this point the floor was tilting a few degrees every thirty seconds or so, leaving me struggling to carry Her cough-racked form a few feet at a time, pushed from behind by a small crowd of the…things who’d stayed behind for just this reason.

Suddenly, the weight on my shoulders disappeared, and I turned, startled, to see the Lady turn toward the tunnel wall and punch her right hand straight through, panting with effort. Turning back towards us…myself and the few flyers/swimmers left…she spoke, softly, in her strangely intriguing language. There was a distressed sounding reply from the group behind me, and her next statement was sharp, again very much a command.

With another distressed babble, and a few of them taking turns to duck out from basically holding me upright to touch her face, or clothes, or just press some unnameable part of themselves against her, we began to move upward again. I didn’t resist, as it was obviously her wish, so her voice from behind caused me to jerk in surprise and look back. “Thank you…Jake. I appreciate what you tried to do more than I can say. We -will- see each other again…I promise. After all, we still have to have that little chat!”
She laughed, lightly, once more the Woman in Red…until the floor began to tilt once again, and she called out urgently to the little ones who began to push harder. As I watched, she turned and punched her other fist into the brick wall, until she appeared to be embracing it…and then she was lost from sight as without her weight the flyers almost threw me up the tunnel.


Blue and Grey #1 (Prose, WIP segment)

I think I’m ready to start working on my book again, got my confidence up and my discipline as well..I hope.  ;p

Either way, I’m going to start posting at least one page or possible chapter twice a week, and I welcome all comments of constructive critism or praise.  😉

 

Blue and Grey, synopsis: In a post-apocalyptic/dystopian future, Blue: an unwilling young shapeshifter, and Grey: a born shapeshifter and master burglar, become less than willing partners out of mutual necessity. (I know this needs work…wish I could find the 25 word pitch I did, but I seem to have misplaced it in the junk-filled filing case that calls itself a laptop.)

 

Blue and Grey: Part One

Blue curled her lip as one paw splashed through an unidentified liquid spilling out of a drain, but kept running. The sound of the pack was all too close behind, their mingled yips and yaps echoing off the alleyway bricks and bouncing around in her already sore head like barbed wire ping-pong balls.

She took the next turn a bit too close, shaving time and a bit of fur off as she did. Almost there, she thought. Just a bit more, and I can put my head down, even if I have to do it on the floor. The thought of the cold concrete floor of the back room was soothing to her cut and scraped up paws, and she managed to pull a burst of energy from the thought and double her speed for a few moments.

It wore off quickly though,and she was back to the limping scamper that she’d kept up for blocks now, and the pack…wait…why did they sound like they were coming from in front? She listened carefully, slowing her steps, hoping against all hope that it was only an effect of the echo that made the yipping cries come from -both- directions at once. 

The supposition failed, however, when she reached the corner of the main street leading to The Mall…and heard them more clearly. Damn, they must’ve circled around. -Now- what? I can’t get home without getting caught between! Half-panicked, half-exhausted, she looked around frantically, and grinned tiredly as she noticed the ladder half a floor above her head. Yes! Saved!

Her first leap was fruitless, only managing to scrape her fur against the brick, leaving a smear of what she -hoped- was mud, but was more likely blood. Too tired to feel the pain, she positioned herself a bit more carefully, and took another leap…this time, managing to grasp the bottom rung of the ladder with the claws of one sore paw. Scrambling frantically, she pulled herself up onto the rusted metal, and lay there for a moment, prostrate with relief. 

Ok, now for the fun part…carefully she stood, stretching her lean body up toward the next rung, ignoring the calls of the pack as they raced closer from both sides. Just a bit…more…there! Got it. She made the pull-and-rest maneuver one more time, before the first of the packs outrunners, a scruffy little terrier, ran into the alley. Here, here, here!! The cat, it’s here! She sighed, and watched it as it scrabbled frantically at the brick below the ladder, mad little eyes sparkling in its filthy face and spittle spraying everywhere. Dogs…so the dignity.


Kitten Little

kitten little, sometimes big,
walking through the streets alone,
puddle water, garbage cans,
sometimes an abandoned bone.
boxes set for mornings haul,
make shelter from the freezing rain,
kicks and stones and shouted words,
she stumbles past, ignores the pain.
born into an alley, grown,
no memories to give her place,
her only clue a collar, red,
that takes her into kitten-space.
in form, a scrawny alley-cat,
black and white with bright green eyes,
the colors meld in formless shapes,
to make the shadows her disguise.
in kitten shape she eats and sleeps,
then grows again at each sunrise,
when big, she stands a scrawny teen,
with ebon hair and emerald eyes.
tail that hangs so limply down,
and ears that hear a mouses cry,
invisible, intangible, but present,
real, and not insanitys’ sweet lie.
her hair so long and tangled falls,
across her fearful, tearful eyes,
hiding the skin so ivory white,
torn by hate in loves disguise.
skin that’s never felt soft hand,
a mothers touch, a fathers love,
never felt a sweet caress,
just icy air and a strangers shove.
where will she end, this kitten, lost,
who is there to take her in,
how did she come, and at what cost,
what secrets lie beneath her skin?


Another Day Another Dollar (part one-and-a-half of the Kava Saga)

Buddys indrawn breath whistled in my ears, as the three of us bellied up side by side to look over the edge of the roof. Grinning, Buddy rolled over to look back to Prof, who simply raised a brow. Buddy laughed, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I can’t believe it! It’s really here…I thought you were shitting me.” Prof snorted. “I -do- occasionally know whereof I speak. Not, I’ll be the first to mention, often, but…”

I listened to them banter behind me, but couldn’t tear my eyes from the beautiful sight that lay in the courtyard below…long and sleek, with the angles and curves of some ’60’s idea of a spaceship, the extravagant sports car looked designed for stranger worlds than these. Her amber-red tail lights were slanted, like flirting eyes, and I knew there was nothing more beautiful in the world…I -would- drive that car. At least, I’d drive it when we delivered it…had a well-heeled enthusiast already lined up, waiting.

Gravel bit into my arms as I carefully backed away from the edge, toward my two temporary partners. Once I was sure it was safe, I sat up, shrugging one shoulder. “Uh-huh. It’s a real nice car. You sure we can get it out of there?” Buddy blinked, shaking his head disbelievingly. “You are one cold fish…”nice car”…” He snorted, still shaking his head.

Prof just nodded. “Got the owner-mans’ schedule by heart…he’s a man of routine, hasn’t moved from his safe little path in the three months I’ve been watching him. And this weekend he’ll be safely off to Bermuda with the missus…”

I nodded, turning to Buddy. “And you’re sure you can get the equipment? Tent and all?” He shrugged. “Sure…my cousins rig’s been sittin’ idle for a month now, he ain’t gonna notice if I borrow it a little. How we gonna get’em to believe the note’s from him, anyway?”

I looked to Prof. This part was his baby. He grinned, holding up a folder full of paper. “Owner-mans own stationery, already signed…he makes up a handful of these before he leaves, in case “anything happens”…isn’t that clever of him?” He chuckled, as Buddys grin got even wider. “Nice…”

I nodded, thinking to myself that the better part of this occupation wouldn’t be possible if the world were to get a sudden shot of smarts. “Ok, then. 7 sharp, outside the warehouse, tomorrow. See you both there.” They nodded, then turned back to their bragging conversation before I’d even made my way down from the roof. Once again I reflected how glad I was I’d never bothered with steady partners…enough time with idiots like these, and anyone’d lose a permanent point of intelligence.

Driving my little Accord home, like any law abiding citizen, I stopped for gas and ran her through the car wash…using the slow passage through the dark, wet, soapy tunnel to relax, like always. The soap froth made pictures on the windshield, formed and faded and formed again, and I zoned out to the sound of Tom Petty on the radio, till we emerged into the bright dark of a Seattle night.

Stopping only to grab a fat steak for the grill, I drove home at a “safe” pace, no more visibly conscious of the police presence on the highways than anyone. Steak, salad, and two carefully tended beers later, my head hit the pillow and the world went away.

If I dreamed that night, it was no more than a news report…”This was Your day, and You were There!” I hadn’t had what I would call a “real” dream since I was a kid. Of course, there was a -lot- that I hadn’t done since I was a kid. And a lot I had.

Bonnie Tyler was belting out “I Need A Hero” when the radio cut on that evening. I grinned to myself, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Heroism was a self-correcting problem, as far as I was concerned. Grabbing the clean t-shirt and jeans off the ladderback chair by the window, I headed for the shower as the announcer began the rush-hour newsbreak.

A twenty minute walk later, I slipped behind the bar, giving a nod to the harried ‘tender already on shift. May rolled her eyes out of sight of the crowd, and I tossed her a sympathetic grin and slipped back into the familiar routine. My hands poured, opened, built and filled, working almost independently of my mind, till the Friday happy-hour crowd finally thinned, and I could afford to slump back and shake my head at Mays’ offer of a break. “You go ahead. I’m wired, tonight.” She just shrugged, and slipped out the pass-through with a grateful sigh.

I occupied myself wiping down the bar, stacking glasses, all the little crap that needed done before closing. The Queens Head was a nice enough place for the neighborhood, and the fact that it was in walking distance of home made it ideal for me as a base of operations. I checked my watch, glanced at the door, and rolled my eyes. Of course they were late. Probably stopped to take candy from some kid and got arrested. I was really going to have to look harder for good help, next time. And where was May? She should’ve been back in to take over for me…what…20 minutes ago now?

Signaling one of the servers to grab the bar for a minute, I headed toward the break room/storage area…and to the door into the not-quite-an-alley behind the bar. May always went out there to smoke, even though it was allowed inside. Said it didn’t feel right. But I didn’t smell cloves, and the door was open a bit. “May?” I moved cautiously toward the door, predator senses on alert. “May? Y’done yet? C’mon, honey, I want a break -sometime- tonight…” When I reached the door I threw it open, quickly jumping to one side…but nothing happened. More than nothing. It was dead quiet out there. No traffic sounds, no sirens, no usual music-played-too-loudly-through-bad-speakers from the local raver/skater punks…nothing. No. Not quite nothing…

A chill fog drifted silently through the door, sliding across the cement floor to pool around my feet. I caught a whiff of something…like perfume, but thicker. I shook my head. What the -hades- was going on here? I…I was looking for…someone. Someone who…who smelled like…cloves? No…like perfume. Like…this… I shook my head, harder, a low growl starting in the bottom of my throat. No…not right. Not at work…not here. I swallowed the growl, or tried to, but it came out more like a whine, as my knees buckled…and my head hit the floor. As my eyes closed, the last sight I saw was a gorgeous pair of ankles in mile-high red stilts. What? I’m a guy!


Harvest Dance

bright eyes shine and footsteps scurry,
voices whisper hurry, hurry,
come, the dance is starting soon,
underneath the harvest moon.

thru the shining city streets,
where the pulse of nightlife beats,
the call goes out, and those who hear,
are coming in from far and near.

the harvest ball will soon commence,
just behind the chainlink fence,
in the darkest part of town,
where the lady moon smiles down.

dancers gather, all together,
never mind the wind and weather,
bow and curtsey, reverance,
mingle with your favorite haunts,
twist and turn and do-si-do,
look at that big goblin go,
and though it will be over soon…
let’s dance beneath the autumn moon!