Latest Submissions

Twin Butterflies

  Impossible twins  a wandering butterfly  and I make salat     allets   ...
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/ / haiku, Poetry / 0 words / NEW! /

Red As A Color

  . Predominant in flags at sea, the bright hue is a wanton, waving itself against the currents of any wind. . Clothing as the color Red calls the eye and makes it listen. It is a bold harpy, a wanton and flamboyant dye lot. . Blood hits the air and cries, "Red!" It can not help it. There are rivers of it, uniforms stained with it. Surgeon's hands are deep in that most unrainbow ...
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/ / Poetry / 98 words / NEW! /

Waifs Strays and Throwaways

The opening sequence to my new thriller based loosely on the Rochdale child abuse scandal ...
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/ / Fiction, thriller / No Comments on Waifs Strays and Throwaways / 1657 words / NEW! /

Unexpected Wisp Of Spring!

living the everyday American dream ...
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Black Rose

  . She slept in uniquely undisturbed gloom, huddling in the darkest part of the old garden. An ebony rose roused  from slumber until the shadows courted night and birthed blue black petals. . Such deep blue highlighted foliage yearned to reach the tender glow of a fingernail moon as harvest sent night creatures to trim her rich verdant foliage. . Morning came with thickening clouds causing sunlight to sleep. Calm beset the pitch petaled ...
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/ / Poetry / 114 words / NEW! /

On visiting the dead

Occasionally, they actually enjoy our visits. We are always welcome to for some occasion share their bleak existence showing empathy for their outrageous state in hopeless limbo without light, and it gives us some distance and relief from this our even more infected world – theirs is at least most clinically clean, all damaging corruption having died, while they at least have all eternity secured for them. So take a ride once in a while, ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on On visiting the dead / 108 words / NEW! /

The forlorn lover in her absence

Without you my life would be but hollowness of infinite despair, frustration, desolation and defeat, while no one else can substitute your absence felt as strongly as the lack of water in the desert, since the only one who can be you is you. Marooned and shipwrecked on a desert island without water, trees or any trace of life. I miss you more than any fish bereft of water or of any bird confined in ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on The forlorn lover in her absence / 141 words / NEW! /

Hamburg

Ich wanke, meine dicke tasse beinahe leer von muckefuck, dann mache mich gefasst. Hier kommt die kunterbunte fahrt. Der ankertätowierte kaufmann flitzt in eine gasse, möwen schlucken brezelbrösel und erbrochenes wie saat. On every doorstep thrusts a tottering, conniving wretch, fatherless and cold-armed, barcodes carved into their flesh. Das neonlicht, es holt mich ein wie glühwürmchen auf haken. Ich schwimme mit dem strom und durch den fischähnlichen duft. Die läden sind weit offen, ihre fenster ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on Hamburg / 126 words / NEW! /

Part 8

There were days when the sun did shine everyday.  What was only weeks, maybe six, possibly eight.  These were the days of real happiness.  A time before this time.  The innocence of youth; the crossover to growing old.  But somewhere in-between there were always good days.  In those, old times, the idea of storing memories was not important.  No need to catalogue moments into some unreal world.  Days were lived as days.  Nights slept as ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 8 / 105 words / NEW! /

Twisted Nerve

cryptic ...
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/ / of unknown meaning, Poetry / No Comments on Twisted Nerve / 72 words / NEW! /

Part 7

You have to understand, we control everything.  Even that chair you are sat on.  In your mind it offers you a last piece of sanctuary.  Your fingers can grip it.  You can sit like a fetus upon it.  You think that its your country, your borders, you will defend it, a place were you are safe.  But, you have to understand.  We have and always will control everything.  We have the means to do everything.  ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 7 / 96 words / NEW! /

Part 6

You see you have to understand that any rational concept of human love disappeared long before the first Virus War.   What dictators had tried and failed for decades before, whole populations succeeded with no need for propaganda or threats.   In the early days of social media humans were rewriting their own histories online.  Days of reinvention, led to months and then years. At some point reinvention became reality; then reality was reinvented and became the ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 6 / 99 words / NEW! /

Whispers

Something light and full of air for Spring - slc   . Take a whisper down a few decibels to make it light as moth wings and deaf as death. . Make a whisper loud enough to hear the love implied. . Whispers are soft like feathers that drift when wings unfurl and flutter. . They settle for mild winds transported quiet as airborne seeds or dust motes on a breeze. . allets 07-20-13 6:04p   ...
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/ / Poetry / 60 words / NEW! /

Part 5

The first Virus War lasted two days in old time. A targeted war.  A targeted population.  Early adopters.  Death by CRM.  In legal terms, these casualties had a dead cerebrum, but a living brainstem; their heartbeat and ventilation continued unaided.  This enabled an immediate chip transplant.  Thousands of vehicles taking single bodies.  The removal was less than scientific.  Not messy, just amateur.  Corpse faces uncovered.  In the back of a van with double doors.  Once the chip was recovered the ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 5 / 72 words / /

Part 4

On the edge of each city sit beacons.  One hundred per city.  One hundred metres high.  Landmarks.  Beacons are lit once each month.  Always the last day.  Months are thirty days long.  Days are thirty hours long.  Cleansing is six hours each day. An average human body takes from two to three hours to burn completely.  Candle lasts for two hours.  Each city needs one hundred cleansings for each candle.  Who burns brightest is not down to weight, ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 4 / 90 words / /

Part 3

Every action has an equal opposite reaction. Smash a human face against a wall.  See how it reacts.  What we want is reaction.  For some, one action will be enough.  Others might need two of three.  It is said that there are some who need their face smashing every week or month.  Then there are those who we just need to smash.  To cleanse.  You can  a hold human skull in a palm.  Here try ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 3 / 91 words / /

I Asked Life What It Meant

She shook her hair back off huge shoulders and eyed me like I was a danger to humanity, then she pulled out lipstick and refreshed her mouth in the event that Mr. Life came by for a sip. . Who and what and how did not matter, it seemed, as she pulled out this enormous pearl handled comb and set to grooming the world for her arrival. Like a star a really big star, bigger ...
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/ / Poetry / 171 words / /

Part 2

Ten pairs of boots. One pair escaping, nine chasing.  The chasers closer.  Closer.  Built in navigation, fly by wire muscles.  Thirty hour days; six extra for street cleansing.  You need some luck not to be cleansed.  Did central programmers include a luck utility function when those first AI  installations were tested?  It seems probably not.  Ten pairs of boots.  One tiring.  An alley opposite a brightly lit neon sign hanging over a Sino cafe.  No ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 2 / 90 words / /

Part 1.

It was after the virus wars of the 2050s when the first mutations started. For a while they went unnoticed.  In those days death certificates were obsolete.  Millions wiped out in weeks. Food was scarce.  It was thought that a mix of cannibalism, years of laboratory gene manipulation and ozone deficit were the cause.  There’s a song long lost to memory; ’…..she moves in mysterious ways.’ Yeah, nature does doesn't it. But, Mrs Smith, we ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on Part 1. / 92 words / /