I gasped with the shock of fresh oxygen
Entering my casket
After months of monotony
In my tired mind
How was it they cried
Who knew me the least?
And those who did,
Enjoyed a feast
After I left for heavenly abode
Or so they thought
Snickering, I took deep breaths
I was here...
I was finally here!
I live for eternity
“For from dust I came and dust I became”
Did me no scathe
And now I had slept on the wrath
Of the build that homed my memories
They soothed my calvaries
Like a balm of a new mother’s lullaby
And I hinted at all the sighs
That shed a tear or two in play
They’d have to suffer a greater delay
For there was no angels and no heaven to pave
Their way into this darkened mist
I am the walking wish
Of every lover
Seated at the rooftop of her house Cassandra stared at the skyline of New Orleans for the millionth time and, again the same thought plagued her mind, ‘Darkness bounds within her; Andrea says it’s destructive, yet she’s a human, not a ghost. If it consumed her in its cage, why doesn’t it kill her? … so, she can transform into a blood-sucking monster crawling people’s heart out and devour it until the last shred of it disappears.’ The noxious craving of death isn’t new nor old, it’s deceptive as the month of Halloween. October is a wicked time of the year for her and she contemplated, ‘Why?’ but couldn’t follow a conclusion. Cassy abhorred the young evening and the civilians on the street who’re busy preparing for the parade to celebrate the supernatural forces which existed thousand years ago. It included even her new wife, Andrea. They got married last week, after having a relationship of over five years but instead of going on a honeymoon, Andrea preferred
Loera bent beneath the lash of the Daal’s mate, until a man caught her wrist. “Enough, Frejalah.” Evrek yanked the seal skin strap from his sister’s hand. “She did nothing to earn your hatred. If you are angry, take it to Soerjen for not staying in your bed.” “I am the Valkra of our clan!” She shrieked after her brother as he took the slave from her. “If she wasn’t prancing around, dancing obscenely with her weird wooden skin and stringy soot-colored hair, he never would have looked at her!” “He ordered her to dance. She did not want to. Any more than she wanted him to rape her after. He is the Daal. His word is law. If you can’t sway him with your female ways, perhaps you should try for your sword instead of your tongue. Now, get out.” Evrek stood between her and the slave girl, watching his sister storm off, muttering curses beneath her breath. Bowing his head, he apologized to the girl. “I am sorry, Loera.” In the silence, he poured water and sprin
There was a little boy named Andy, who thought he was pretty dandy His favorite festival was Halloween, would count the days and hours between Mischievous had this boy been, so this is where the story begins Andy was in love with candy, the ways he would get it quite handy He would dress up a fright, to the neighbor's delight He had his scheme, a candy lover’s dream Many costumes he'd wear, of his devilish plan they're unaware Firecrackers in his keep, kept for the ones who did not treat For now the neighbors discovered his ruse, the trick or treating now abused Coming up with a master plan, to sneak in like the boogeyman Sliding down the chimney quick, looking nothing like Saint Nick Bad little Andy in his mischief got stuck, his calls being unheard with no luck Two weeks went by with posters spread about, for little Andy to keep an eye out Then it came a cold winter's night, whe
Humanity’s greatest flaw wasn’t beauty. It was trust. Trust in money. Trust in power. Trust in protection. Trust in faith. She sat alone on the great porch of pristine white. A magnificent southern architect of Victorian embellishment touched with towering Greek columns and antebellum grace. Proud oaks and their willowy hair guarded her dream as wisterias curled around the wrought iron black gates. Such was a visionary excellence to all passerby. Glorious beauty with no depth. Everything within her grasp, but none of it to hold her together. For all the money, charm and charisma this space had to offer, it could not fill the deepest pits in the soul that yearned for something out of reach. Freedom was often a fleeting visage. Gwendolyn was quite the troubled rose. A definite heartbreaker in her blossoming youth and now, a full bloom Venus. She held the world through eyes the color of depression. The waves so dark and volatile, she stoo
Greg, his girlfriend Julie, Ashley, his girlfriend Sarah and Ashley’s brother Jacob formed a little clique in their small-town high school. Jacob was more than a year younger than Ashley. He couldn’t drive yet and didn’t have a girlfriend and so always tagged along with him to most places. Ashley, or Ash as friends called him, felt bad for Jacob and tried to include his brother in most things, other than dates with Sarah, who never minded most times. She knew Ashley loved and looked out for Jacob and she admired him for that. A basketball star in their school, Ash called himself “a big fish in a little pond.” Greg starred on the high school football team. He played defensive and offensive end and liked the job to batter through the opposition and tackle the quarterback. Greg’s friends described him as a big guy with a bigger heart. Greg, the “Teddy Bear,” got that nickname from his classmates for standing up for kids who got bullied by school butt-heads. He was a friendly gu
“It is gathered that, 12 pounds of meat, Is their everyday treat. It’s what they require, It’s what they always eat.” “While preying on the edges of the shrinking water bodies, In the scorching waves of summer heat. The vary victim is not aware of the lurking danger, Or hungry greed. It’s the perfect chance, an absolute opportunity, The Tiger strikes with a swift streak, His grace unmatched, Fearless he proceeds, To gain over his kill. The neck of the thrashing pawn under the clutches of his teeth, The Tiger gauges the nature of his sort, and drags his win to a secluded vicinity.” Oh! How his eyes searched the strength of the attack It was very interesting to the world But to him- he f
About The Authors Mark Boutros is an award winning writer, and author of fantasies that celebrate broad worlds, hapless characters and freedom of imagination. He also writes short stories and thrillers. Mark lives in London, loves RPSs (the computer game kind) and binge watching Netflix with his wife. Michaelle Leigh is an American author who enjoys writing during the evening twilight. Living near a bird sanctuary by a lake, she loves the serenity that it provides. Married and mother of two full-grown adults, she finds the support and love that she needs. Her lifelong dream is to write amazing stories that people will enjoy and awaken their love for reading. Not sticking to any particular genre, she likes to test her boundaries in writing. Danielle McNeil writes paranormal/supernatural stories that involve vampires and werewolves. Her works include
Lying here with a loss of words, hearing no sound but that of a dirgeI searched my mind but it comes blank, the sounds of Lament fell like I sankDeadweight is my body all dressed and adorned, to be viewed by the ones who felt I have scornedTucked in a billow of alabaster white, a weight of coins to keep out the lightHow is it possible I am lying here, surrounded by people who don’t shed a tear?Trying to move to stop this façade, not wanting to meet the one they call GodClosing the lid with a small click, hearing the pallbearer say, ‘What a dick’The vertigo of weightlessness now being felt, not liking the cards that were dealtHearing the thud of dirt being thrown, the feeling of dread about the unknownThe smell of dirt that’s been freshly turned, makes my stomach start to churnNot understanding why I can’t move nor utter a sound, as they continue to put me in the groun
About The Authors Mark Boutros is an award winning writer, and author of fantasies that celebrate broad worlds, hapless characters and freedom of imagination. He also writes short stories and thrillers. Mark lives in London, loves RPSs (the computer game kind) and binge watching Netflix with his wife. Michaelle Leigh is an American author who enjoys writing during the evening twilight. Living near a bird sanctuary by a lake, she loves the serenity that it provides. Married and mother of two full-grown adults, she finds the support and love that she needs. Her lifelong dream is to write amazing stories that people will enjoy and awaken their love for reading. Not sticking to any particular genre, she likes to test her boundaries in writing. Danielle McNeil writes paranormal/supernatural stories that involve vampires and werewolves. Her works include
“It is gathered that, 12 pounds of meat, Is their everyday treat. It’s what they require, It’s what they always eat.” “While preying on the edges of the shrinking water bodies, In the scorching waves of summer heat. The vary victim is not aware of the lurking danger, Or hungry greed. It’s the perfect chance, an absolute opportunity, The Tiger strikes with a swift streak, His grace unmatched, Fearless he proceeds, To gain over his kill. The neck of the thrashing pawn under the clutches of his teeth, The Tiger gauges the nature of his sort, and drags his win to a secluded vicinity.” Oh! How his eyes searched the strength of the attack It was very interesting to the world But to him- he f
Greg, his girlfriend Julie, Ashley, his girlfriend Sarah and Ashley’s brother Jacob formed a little clique in their small-town high school. Jacob was more than a year younger than Ashley. He couldn’t drive yet and didn’t have a girlfriend and so always tagged along with him to most places. Ashley, or Ash as friends called him, felt bad for Jacob and tried to include his brother in most things, other than dates with Sarah, who never minded most times. She knew Ashley loved and looked out for Jacob and she admired him for that. A basketball star in their school, Ash called himself “a big fish in a little pond.” Greg starred on the high school football team. He played defensive and offensive end and liked the job to batter through the opposition and tackle the quarterback. Greg’s friends described him as a big guy with a bigger heart. Greg, the “Teddy Bear,” got that nickname from his classmates for standing up for kids who got bullied by school butt-heads. He was a friendly gu
Humanity’s greatest flaw wasn’t beauty. It was trust. Trust in money. Trust in power. Trust in protection. Trust in faith. She sat alone on the great porch of pristine white. A magnificent southern architect of Victorian embellishment touched with towering Greek columns and antebellum grace. Proud oaks and their willowy hair guarded her dream as wisterias curled around the wrought iron black gates. Such was a visionary excellence to all passerby. Glorious beauty with no depth. Everything within her grasp, but none of it to hold her together. For all the money, charm and charisma this space had to offer, it could not fill the deepest pits in the soul that yearned for something out of reach. Freedom was often a fleeting visage. Gwendolyn was quite the troubled rose. A definite heartbreaker in her blossoming youth and now, a full bloom Venus. She held the world through eyes the color of depression. The waves so dark and volatile, she stoo
There was a little boy named Andy, who thought he was pretty dandy His favorite festival was Halloween, would count the days and hours between Mischievous had this boy been, so this is where the story begins Andy was in love with candy, the ways he would get it quite handy He would dress up a fright, to the neighbor's delight He had his scheme, a candy lover’s dream Many costumes he'd wear, of his devilish plan they're unaware Firecrackers in his keep, kept for the ones who did not treat For now the neighbors discovered his ruse, the trick or treating now abused Coming up with a master plan, to sneak in like the boogeyman Sliding down the chimney quick, looking nothing like Saint Nick Bad little Andy in his mischief got stuck, his calls being unheard with no luck Two weeks went by with posters spread about, for little Andy to keep an eye out Then it came a cold winter's night, whe
Loera bent beneath the lash of the Daal’s mate, until a man caught her wrist. “Enough, Frejalah.” Evrek yanked the seal skin strap from his sister’s hand. “She did nothing to earn your hatred. If you are angry, take it to Soerjen for not staying in your bed.” “I am the Valkra of our clan!” She shrieked after her brother as he took the slave from her. “If she wasn’t prancing around, dancing obscenely with her weird wooden skin and stringy soot-colored hair, he never would have looked at her!” “He ordered her to dance. She did not want to. Any more than she wanted him to rape her after. He is the Daal. His word is law. If you can’t sway him with your female ways, perhaps you should try for your sword instead of your tongue. Now, get out.” Evrek stood between her and the slave girl, watching his sister storm off, muttering curses beneath her breath. Bowing his head, he apologized to the girl. “I am sorry, Loera.” In the silence, he poured water and sprin
Seated at the rooftop of her house Cassandra stared at the skyline of New Orleans for the millionth time and, again the same thought plagued her mind, ‘Darkness bounds within her; Andrea says it’s destructive, yet she’s a human, not a ghost. If it consumed her in its cage, why doesn’t it kill her? … so, she can transform into a blood-sucking monster crawling people’s heart out and devour it until the last shred of it disappears.’ The noxious craving of death isn’t new nor old, it’s deceptive as the month of Halloween. October is a wicked time of the year for her and she contemplated, ‘Why?’ but couldn’t follow a conclusion. Cassy abhorred the young evening and the civilians on the street who’re busy preparing for the parade to celebrate the supernatural forces which existed thousand years ago. It included even her new wife, Andrea. They got married last week, after having a relationship of over five years but instead of going on a honeymoon, Andrea preferred
I gasped with the shock of fresh oxygen Entering my casket After months of monotony In my tired mind How was it they cried Who knew me the least? And those who did, Enjoyed a feast After I left for heavenly abode Or so they thought Snickering, I took deep breaths I was here... I was finally here! I live for eternity “For from dust I came and dust I became” Did me no scathe And now I had slept on the wrath Of the build that homed my memories They soothed my calvaries Like a balm of a new mother’s lullaby And I hinted at all the sighs That shed a tear or two in play They’d have to suffer a greater delay For there was no angels and no heaven to pave Their way into this darkened mist I am the walking wish Of every lover
“Did you not hear me calling you?” Her syllables are erratic and hard. “I need your help, Mary!” I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. It’s ten o’clock. I squint at the missed calls. Five of them tonight, all from Victoria. “Hmmm, I have the sniffles.” I clear my throat. “What’s going on?” “Paul broke up with me!” He broke up with her at least once a month, for several months now. I don’t know how to say this to her face, but she’s an annoying, clingy, drama queen. “I need you. What should I do?” “Hold on.” I put the phone on speaker so I can tie my curly hair in a knot. My golden skin looks almond-toned in the faint lamplight. Mary is the opposite of me, a blue-eyed blonde. At our university, we’re called caramel and cream. We’re also different in other ways. She’s all roar, while I’m the calm one. She cries ugly. I imagine her pale face all scrunched up, her button nose all red, and her bangs falling onto her forehead. “He told me… he tol