Category: fiction

ANOTHER untitled dream work…

abstract architecture building business
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

“you’re at it again! you’ve been in one of them haven’t you?” She walks past with the groceries towards the kitchen counter.

He jumps off the couch, hurriedly taking them off. 

“Its not what it looks like! I made an executive decision, seeing that this one was about to “off “himself… Seemed like he had doubts about it and needed a helping hand, and I, I felt I could be that helping hand. You know, being that I’ve always wanted a go at one of those scenarios.” 

Trying to hide a growing smirk, but failing at it, he turns  and walks towards the bar.

She’s at the counter, groceries now on display. Mind between present conversation and what dinner should look like in an hour.

“I can’t do this right now! …You know what? I’m just going to have to leave you to your own devices, but mind you, we’re human, just like them. Did you even pause to consider that that MAN at the very last minute could have had a re-think of his actions? And if he did then what would that make you? Yeah! yeah!… a cold blooded KILLER!

Now standing at the bar, he’s pouring himself a drink of scotch. 

YO! that’s cutting it a bit too deep babe. I tell you, there is NO WAY this guy was going to change his mind. I’m F..ing sure of that. I’d been in that mind of his enough times to know that the world out there was getting to the poor bastard. Besides, I’m sure his re-occurring dreams of heaven, by heave I mean here, left him wanting more out of that slum of a life of his.

“Wait a minute, you mean you brought hime HERE?!” The information overload leads to a fire in her chest that needs quenching. She walks up to him with a look of surprise and disgust, snatches the drink from his hand and walks back towards the kitchen area gulping it down in one violent go.

He continues, “Look it was only his mind I allowed here. I was sure to switch to paralysis mode each time I left him here, trust me. I left his eyes and senses to wonder, but never the possession of my body.”

“And just how many times did you put him through that”, she said “HOW MANY TIMES?”

I don’t know! …6, 7 times? about an hour or 2 for each session, I guess. 

He pours himself another scotch. As he sips on it he reminisces, “O there’s this one time I had him here for over A DAY! Man, that was one fine experience out there”. He’s got that smirk again, but this time he stares into his glass with a far away look in his eyes as though back outside and in that moment.

She pauses cutting the vegetables, and with the same look of disgust she says “And you wonder why he wanted to commit suicide. You practically had that man feeling helpless. YOU TREATED HIM LIKE A FUCKING PUPPET. GOD!” She returns to cutting but with more vigour this time.

He hurries to hold her by her shoulders and looking into her eyes he says “ babe, babe, look, you need to understand. It gets really boring around here. Sometimes a guy needs  to take the edge off, you know what I mean?”. 

Then just drink already! You seem pretty good at that so far. Just don’t indulge in an already hellish environment by making the lives of those stuck there more unbearable for them. Realising herself for his grip she gasps, slamming a fist at ceramic cutting table; knife in the other hand.

“I honestly cannot believe you have the nerve to be all casual about this”. Point the knife in his direction. “Do you not understand what you are doing? And the length that you would go to lay the foundations of a suicide scenario. DON’T, even try denying it! We both know you only focused on that one specimen all because you intended to drive him to that point where he’d spiral, leading him to that last moment of despair.”

This time he gasps, trying to fake the horror of such an accusation, but at the last second he does a flip. “Well Brrravo DICK Tracy, Y’gat me! I must applaud you and your act of sanctimoniousness. Okay, so I took the liberty of running this little project on just one of the billions left behind in that hell hole. So what?!

You of all people know the shit guys in here pull in order to get off, taking up numbers of specimen at a time if they want. I’ve managed to keep it minimal and you want to – judge – ME? COME ON!

Its crazy enough that we stay stuck in this place telling ourselves we are safe from all the madness out there. All the pollution, all the violence!” Throwing his glass against the wall “Well it violent in here!” he growls, pointing feverishly at his temple. 

He leans up against the wall in need of support for his now buckling knees and slowly crumbles to the ground. “I ca.., I can’t breathe babe. How, how do you do it, this… this composure of yours?” Now he’s rambling “an.., and they’re so near and yet so far!? I can almost touch them, can almost taste it, all the “life” that comes with sacrifice of being out there amongst the filth. I mean, we only need to open the door to be a part of them right?. In a persona of exhaustion he says “You may not get this, but zombie mode is the only way I keep myself from actualising what I helped that guy do today….”

“Dinner is ready!” she says, walking past him toward the table with a dish of whatever sustenance she’s got whipped up. In an unsettling composure like that of a Stepford wife, she fixes him a plate and then steadily floats towards him. She then kneels to meet his tired gaze, dish in hand. Laying the plat on the ground, she lovingly strokes his now sweaty face, “You are tired honey, what say we turn in for the night. You know… I’m not judging you or anything, I just need you to take on a different perspective on being here. This place… its technology, it makes gods of us all, but the price we pay… it takes that of a formidable mind to survive it all… the confinement, the solitude, the monotony? She sighs as though tired of trying to make him understand.  “Come on”. Taking him by the arm she forces him up, greeting him with a long kiss. A smooch more of compassion than passion. 

Later on that evening…

The room illuminates and a female figure is seen moving towards the couch where he earlier sat carrying out his arguable feat. Looking down at the couch she reminds herself, “It takes a formidable mind”. She does a great job at concealing how encaged she feels within these walls, during the day, but at night is where she will need all her strength. A formidable mind will keep you sane within these walls, yes, but it takes an even more capable and adept mind to puppet an animal specimen versus a human one. 

Despite the challenges that come with indulging in the use of animal forms, one of them being the gradual eroding of moral sensitivity, she’d opt for it any time. Her basis for this decision, that humans themselves are trapped within an invisible barrier by their own conventions and conformities.

Now jacked up to the device she seizes control of her chosen beast for the night and with it she runs free. On some nights she’ll hunt; on others she becomes the hunted. The near death experience when being put to the slaughter; the pain of child birth, these are just a few of the scenarios in her bouquet of experiences she may pick and choose from each night. And lets not forget those evenings when she’s left at the mercy of her partner’s poor bed habits… this being one of them. She’s got the option of finding a mate or two during the course of the rest of the night. 

…But tonight, tonight  she’s got a different taste on her mind; on her tongue… 

MAN…

*THE END*

… on inspiration’s Isle she waits that she may embrace unorthodoxy…

POETRY AND PANCAKES

Day breaks
and I lay awake
reminiscing
Last night
now
a
vision

Those almost kisses
Orgasmic near misses
as your body mixes with mine
Damn!
such sweet wine
O so fine

https://i0.wp.com/images.quickblogcast.com/8/6/0/3/5/262292-253068/couple_breakfast_in_bed2.jpg
Googled!

Your tongue full of tricks
in my mouth transfixed
keeps hush the screams
wild fire, porn scenes
the dashes and clashes
as your ravage my Ravine

DAMN!
Breakfast comes all too quickly!

So abrupt,
the smell of pancakes
rudely disrupt
my daydream
of the night’s passing
but alas
you’re here

You draw near
and I deliberate
on how you make it up to me
Gladly for all its worth
we settle for dessert
love making
in all its
poetry

Līgo Haībun Challenge ~ Picture Prompt

The BIG BAD Wolf

So I’m the BIG BAD Wolf taking my morning stroll in the forest – The forest being my natural habitat. Haven’t had breakfast yet- Might I just point out  that I’m a MEAT EATER and so its my God given right to crave flesh.

The morning is still very young and I’m yet to find befitting prey to match my hunger pangs. Then I spot “Red” wondering along in her tacky cloak- Not that the color matters much, I’m Color blind. 

She’s all alone, the defenseless little creature…

WAIT! So I’m the “BAD” Wolf for landing prey that’s coincidentally a little girl, left to roam the forest ALL ALONE while on her way to  long distance- Grand Ma’s house???!!!

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury PLEASE! Putting all bias aside I ask you to consider this poor, hungry carnivore- Me! What would you have done in my shoes (paws), craving your daily fill of flesh and blood? If anything it should be Red’s parent’s baring that  adjective!

I’m not trying to justify what I did- eating Grammy and Red, but it was only natural. I hunt that which is of my territory- within the Forest… THEY WERE!

˜˜

Much is learnt from this
To see through another’s eyes
prejudice aside

Immerse yourself in the forest for the new picture prompt!

The Līgo Haībun Challenge ~ Prompt “Bouquet”/”Bouquet of Flowers”/”Flower”

bigstock-Beautiful-nude-female-body-sil-18840731Innocence  becomes past tense as he attempts to pluck red petals  from between her ebony thighs… His dream finally coming to fruition- to make a woman of his lover.  Dare he say, its not quite the experience he had envisaged- She claws away into his Nubian skin, screaming as he penetrates, taking his time the best he can. Tears trickle down the corners of her eyes as her body gently rocks to the motion of his love inside her.

In time he races on feverishly, drenched in perspiration- eyes shut to avoid the gory shade that probably masks his groin and surely marks the sheets … in that moment her flower is lost forever. The innocent girl he lay ever so gently on her back now raises her womanly hips to the occasion in wild ecstasy- Her body, overwhelmed by  new feelings of pain, but more pleasure bucks, reals and twists, her fingers easing off on their grip of his skin. This is where true victory lies- not in the breaking of the hymen, but to feel the wild, involuntary spasms from her virgin torso. Is there anything sweeter than this?….

˜˜
Claiming her bouquet
He thinks not of tomorrow
…She thinks forever
_____________________________________________________

 Ligo-Challenge-

Our  Līgo Haībun Challenge normally has a word limit of up to 220 words or less inc the haiku / of course more than one haiku can be used to conclude your piece.

According to Wikipedia: The term “haibun” was first used by the 17th century Japanese poet, Matsuo Bashō. Bashō was a prominent early writer of haibun, then a new genre combining classical prototypes.  He wrote some haibun as travel accounts during his various journeys, the most famous of which is Oku no Hosomichi(Narrow Road to the Interior). Bashō’s shorter haibun include compositions devoted to travel and others focusing on character sketches, landscape scenes, anecdotal vignettes and occasional writings written to honor a specific patron or event. His Hut of the Phantom Dwelling can be classified as an essay while, in Saga Nikki (Saga Diary), he documents his day-to-day activities with his disciples on a summer retreat.

Traditional haibun typically took the form of a short description of a place, person or object, or a diary of a journey or other series of events in the poet’s life. Haibun continued to be written by later haikai poets such as Yosa Buson, Kobayashi Issa and Masaoka Shiki.

Haibun in English

Haibun has established itself as a genre in world literature which has gained momentum in recent years.

The first contest for English-language haibun took place in 1996. The first anthology of English-language haibun was Bruce Ross‘s Journey to the Interior: American Versions of Haibun (Tuttle), published in 1998.

The haībun format here for the Līgo Haībun Challenge is as follows ~

A paragraph (more than one paragraph is fine, or just a few sentences) in prose form of either

  • a descriptive passage , or excerpt from a story/or previously published post
  • an explanation 
  • a tale
  • a travelogue
  • a news item
  • a recipe

and

  • the haiku/collection of haiku related to the text  to close

THE LIGO HAIBUN NORMALLY SHOULD BE A TOTAL 220 WORDS **OR LESS**

-if you should like please do supply an image/images to go with your post.

The most appreciated haībun (MAXIMUM of 3 per week) will get an “honourable mention in dispatches”, and all contributors will be featured in the weekly Līgo Editions Paper circulated online to twitter, facebook, tumblr., subscribing emails and anywhere else you’d like it to go. The link currently only features example articles.

Bloggers will regularily be invited to join Līgo Editions to form an invitation panel to recommend posts for “honourable mention.”  Current panel members – Managua Gunn, Ese, Sarah Potter

Use the vintage  Scriber badge with pride on your post or sidebar – and please do link back here on your post to help the circle widen. Below you’ll find a link to post your haībun.

Good luck!

Melt – The Līgo Haībun Challenge

4:00 P.M– Just getting off work, she races down the road and towards the Bus stop. She’s almost there, but NOT- then her bus begins to move. She arrives at the spot only to meet the butt of the vehicle fading into the corner of the street, that would mean an hour and a half of her waiting for another transit in her direction. Frustrated, she curses. Its lonely at the station so a walk in the cannabis field is the perfect remedy for her foul mood. Sitting in a waiting chair, legs crossed, she reaches into her bag for a stick; Lights it up and drags-

In goes the poison and out her frustration.

The session is almost heavenly. Melting in her seat she  tastes the evening breeze. Dreamily she pays attention as the light from her stick illuminate in the evening hue, its soft feathery haze lifting through the atmosphere;

Inhale, Exhale

Her nerves untwine as the intoxicating odor of perspiration, hers, mixed with fumes of the slowly diminishing stick fills her nostrils. Utter bliss as she sits melted in her waiting chair-  Even the wind amongst the trees offer the symphony of Handel’s Messiah… or is that just in her head? …

˜˜

From euphoric dance
  Toots from a horn break the spell  
  ...Damn reality!

__________________________________________

New Challenge for 2013 but I still have love for my people at the dVerse bar 😉

Thanks Captain!!!! 🙂

Ligo Haibun Challenge here

ligo-challenge4fe8a923839c2_261382n

***The Līgo Haībun Challenge normally has a word limit of up to 220 words or less inc the haiku***

READ ABOUT HAIBUN HERE

READ EXAMPLES OF HAIBUN HERE

Haībun is Prosimetric writing. The haībun format for the Līgo Haībun Challenge is as follows ~

A paragraph (more than one paragraph is fine,or justa few sentences) in prose form of either

  • a descriptive passage , or excerpt from a story/or previously published post 
  • a tale
  • a travelogue
  • a news item
  • a recipe

and

the haiku to close

 

An untitled dream work…

How do I tell a story of night, what words would truly express the moment’s horror? Lend me your thoughts and I will borrow you my imagination, if only for you to experience fully the act that is to ensue.
This is a story of  one, once man…
Now immortal…
One cursed…

(Please listen as you read)

……

Steal away with me into the night

to a Bastion beyond  many hills, where

darkness looms, time stands still

a realm of the no longer beating heart

to the land of  a damned immortal

… a creatures of the night

Walk with me through these dark corridors

Hold your torch o so tightly…

Its fainting walls whispering tales of centuries

Weakened structures caked with dust

Listen to the moaning winds…

or could it be the many ghosts that hunt its halls?

Into the belly of the fortress we make our  way,

Down winding stairways,

through darkened passages

Hold your torch O so tightly…

Come to rest at the foot of iron gates, shut.

Peer through the gaps to find a  roofless chamber

its filthy, cracked walls bare no corners.

Moon beams pierce the darkness of this dungeon devoid of shade.

At first sight  we see nothing but space and time,

a visiting rodent sneaks a look through the cracks.

Focus still and bring your attention to the heap of ash on the stoney grounds.

…

Ashes  and Silence…

A scream suddenly breaks through the hush

Shrieks that make even the moaning winds give ear

The remains slowly taking form.

Life reaching  from the depths of hell

… or is it… life?

A TORTUROUS TRANSFIGURATION WE SEE

as dust is molded into flesh and bone.

With every capillary formed, for

every flesh mounted are the painful howls 

and constricting twists and turns…

FINALLY! … Finally, returns the hush,

the transformation lay still and

we hear the winds resume its tales

The object becomes animate, as

though awoken from Hades grip.

Sitting erect, the being looks towards the gate, towards

you and I

Behold the paleness of his face, his

eyes cold as death and yet divulging torment, and

with such deep sorrow he says

This is my fate did you know

to be cursed as Prometheus

Yet even he bore a better fate than I.

For I already damned am therefore damned a second time.

Once man, now soulless creature of evening…

He sites his noble visitor making its way back into the cracks

and with the agility of a lioness he pounces.

The meal he finishes all too quickly.

Signaling in our direction he speaks once again

You would be my first choice but for these accursed bars…

hence reduced to a scavenger am I…

His emaciated form circles the room in an almost zombie like manner

He awaits the Sun…

I await the sun…

The night sky,

She is beautiful is she not?

Day light greets me and

yet I can say very light of it majesty but

plenty of its horror

In this  prison, naked to the sky

condemned am I to be tortured as Helios rages on.

My flesh melts before my very eyes

and what is left of my soul is torn to a thousand pieces

His laments, shrill…

What would Prometheus know of pain?!

Zeus is less a devil than my captor!… These walls!

O that my ashes be scattered to the four winds to end my suffering!

FREE ME!!!

His monologue is halted by the flicker of light from the east.

Dawn approaches, and

with it his executioner … A ball of fire

His eyes resume the horror from the moment he woke

Now frantically  wandering the room as though in search of a place to hide,

Psychological torture besest him as he envisages the pain soon to come.

We watch as though through a peep hole  of a sanitarium, this

tortured soul kicking and screaming, violently

throwing himself against the chamber walls

(…. So this is the cause of such filth and wreckage)

No white, softly padded walls to cushion his impact,

No straight jacket to prevent him cutting and scratching, that

he does in order to sensitize himself towards the impending affliction.

With the last vestige of courage he raises his voice:

SUN BE DAMNED TO HELL!

 He then curls up like a child in where he best assumes a corner

as one defeated.

Cradling himself he mutters:

No more, No more…

The Sun slowly bearing its face, its

rays descend the Vampire’s uncovered tomb.

Cradling even faster,

His words more audios

NO MORE!

NO MORE!!

NO MORE!!!

NO MORE!!!!

Witness his backward transition

Melting flesh and bone,

to blood,

to ash.

Torturous screams return this shredded soul once again to temporary death.

A heap of dust once more, Silence

fills the room

Helios smiles down on what is left of our performer

As all the world is a stage…

We applaud, You and I, and

then depart through the dark and twisted maze

of imagination’s fort.

…

Hold your torch o so tightly…

“Everything you can imagine is real.”
― Pablo Picasso

Fighting his way back home to you…

6.30 in the P.M and just got off the grinder. Peak period for traffic so I’m killing time at the bar round the corner from my office. Its a day like any. I’m tired. I’ve got my sleeves rolled up and my tie undone and I’m sipping on a LARGE glass of larger. I’m having a mental conversation with myself about the happenings of the day when I spot this fine a.. sister about to leave the room. Conversation between me and my mind quickly switches from stories of a hard days work to descriptions of  the vision of absolute sin standing before us.

Now I had hoped she’d do me a favour by just walking past and never looking back. That would have saved me the mental and emotional effort that came with fighting the welling temptation now steering up inside of me, but she didn’t. The siren took my breathe away from the moment my eyes left her backside and unconsciously met with hers pair of … not sure how to describe those eyes of hers. Yes, she noticed me too, but how on earth was I suppose to be glad about that?!

Surely if it was back in the day when a brother didn’t have a woman and the responsibility of a family… well you know the rest. Sadly, Christmas had only come TOO LATE. Damn that Santa Claus!, dishing out the coal all those years only to throw this wonderful gift of lust down my chimney now my hands are tied!

Eye contact must have been for a few seconds but in that time I felt like I had been sucked into eternity. All the should have, could have, would have’s flashed before my imaginative eyes and in that moment I had to muster every drop of will power  to pull myself out of those  pools of sweet seduction.

Self snapped back to reality, I look at my watch and then at my wedding ring while making a fist out of shear male frustration… breathing a sigh of what then seemed like disappointment I look back at her and she’s already got her back turned on me and is walking into the distance. Eyes back on her rolling ass again…  I sigh but this time sure that its in relief.

“A fine day its been so far” I tell my mind, resuming our conversation. “I dodged a bullet and still came out feeling like a sex A real man gives up one night stands for a woman he can't stand one night without.symbol ” 😉

Just thought I would appreciate what a lot of guys go through for the women they love. You are appreciated fellas! 😉

Those Five Little Words… No, Six!

I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!

 I thought the human race being the intelligent creatures we are, usually invent and come up with the easiest and shortest ways around  situations!? We got tired of candles, someone invented the light bulb; We got tired of walking, people started coming up with all modes of transportation. In the new age of texting we’ve come up with slangs such as “brb” , “ttyl” and “lol” just so we don’t have to go through the rigors of bogus words and sentences (yawning lazily); Microchips have shrunken to the Nano and so on…. So how is it that a simple 3 word sentence like “I love you” gets to be stretched out to one of 5 or 6 words instead? Well I have a theory…

The Player of the Middle Ages

It turns out that the phrase “fall in love” is  connected to the idea of “falling head over heels,” which was used in the 1300s, and is another term for being struck suddenly by great romantic attraction to someone else. (Excerpt from wisegeek.com)

The key phrase here is “Romantic attraction” people. What is that?! You either love the person or you don’t! Or why not just say “I’m romantically attracted to you”, and quit confusing people? Its all based on chemicals I tell you!

Okay back to the subject matter… my theory of the origin of this appalling modification.

Well there is no easy way for me to say this but if this sentence can actually be linked back to the 1300s then I believe it was coined up by some womanizing Knight, for some unfortunate fair maiden. No, scratch that! More a Troubadour than a Knight…. or maybe he was both.

In his bid to woo this fair lady he will do all he can to win her affection but his honor will not allow him speak those  3 sacred words in deceit. It would be sacrilege! (…maybe he’s a Knight after all)

There’s the option of him saying “I lust you”, but then in an era of chivalry such as his, he has no intention of devaluing the virtue of his one night stand, not verbally anyway. He writes her shams of love letters and poetry telling her how beautiful she is; How the shape of her eyes reminds him of stars and all that jazz, but the player still doesn’t score. This maiden is a hard nut to crack, a challenge, but he will not back down! (…definitely a Knight!)

The situation calls for drastic measures. He now realises how desperately he has to incorporate the sacred words into his libretto or else risk losing out on this conquest. A bulb lights up in his head. Eureka!

(The Victorian Player)

Down on one knee; her hand in his, he speaks the words ….”I am in Love with You”.

SCORE!!!!!!!!!

The maiden is flustered. She takes the bate all because somewhere in that sentence she hears I, Love and You. Its a happy day for both parties. She goes away feeling that she has the heart of a man now and he goes away with the experience of them doing the nasty somewhere in the woods or perhaps even in a barn.

They probably meet the next day and he pretends like nothing has transpired between them, and when she asks about his words of love he then repeats his statement s-l-o-w-l-y, adding that it was actually a declaration of his “Burning desire”. She really can’t argue with his defense so I’m guessing she ends up throwing herself off a bridge or something… And so birthed the era of damage and heartbreak all because of 5, no, 6 little words. The invention of this lengthier statement has however aided a cult of people since then. Till this very day, in the wrong hands it is one of the most valued weapons used in hurting the vulnerable heart.

Casanova may have got all the credit for being the god father of womanizers but trust me, the faceless individual with the gumption to come up with a sentence so strong, so passionate, so intense would definitely have bagged a whole lot more chicks than dear  Giacomo.

But I think I would have done it even better… Why waste time thinking up new sentences when all you need do is say “I LOVE YOU”, fingers crossed?

…JUST MESSING WITH YAL!!!! 😉

“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart, or burn down your house, you can never tell.”

-Joan Crawford

The words of a foreign body

She’s crying again, her vibrating sobs seem to echo through. There’s talk  about doctors and pills and how time seems to be running out. I can feel the build up of tension as it invades my space, voices raise as the conversation reaches its climax and then something slams shut. We are alone again, she, drowning in her tears and I, left to feeling every bit of her pain.

Its quiet, there’s little movement and shes breathing calmly now… She’s asleep I believe. This is the only time I get to exist without her negative air trying to choke the peace out of me… Its been like this for a few days now, up until then  she had been a much jollier person.  I have experienced her many emotions during the course of my existence but this feeling of hurt had never been so intense till she found out about me. Often times I wonder if I am the reason for her tears, shouldn’t I be here? ….Maybe if I keep still long enough she will forget that I’m here and things will return to normal, but I doubt that will work, it would only make me even more uncomfortable.

She wakes and I don’t feel that intense sadness anymore, it seems to have been replaced by this unexplainable calm while she slept.  I’m not sure I like this sensation… there’s this feeling of disconnect, almost as though she’s keeping her true feelings from me and I’m left all alone in this weightless wonderland. I hear her voice as she speaks to an unheard other, the word “doctor” comes up again and an appointment has just been set for tomorrow… If only I could go back to the first 3 moons of my existence when it was all about food and swimming, she felt happier and so did I… Now all I may ever know is her feeling of regret and my feeling of rejection…

“There is nothing in the whole world so painful as feeling that one is not liked. It always seems to me that people who hate me must be suffering from some kind of lunacy.” – Sei Shonagon