Cast Away

A wave landed on the shore
A million displaced people
ragged and torn
crawling up the beach
the ship, the craft that carried them slowly trying to sink on the horizon
They sat as they were reborn welcoming those who came later
their open arms hugging and wrapping around more and more waves of the displaced
and still they watched their craft try to sink, never quite going under yet not righting itself either
As time passed they forgot about their ship it became fuzzy in their minds a forgotten relic of the past, hardly any new displaced came now they were not reminded of the past any more.

Yet one day suddenly another wave broke on the shore, a great crash of chattering people
They spoke of a far away land
How they had been thrown out by force, loaded up and corralled
The ships carrying them like cargo
Dumping them off shore then turning around for more
Crying and chattering the waves of people kept coming in more and more and more
This time was different though word had gotten through filtered on the wind that they were coming
This time a million were waiting with open arms with stories of how they too lost their homes
Waiting ready to teach the new survivors how to adapt to this new land
Some just sat and cried, they had arms to comfort them
Others wailed and made so much noise they had to be locked away with bottles of rum
Most just sat bewildered for a while not able to get through thier tortured minds that they were welcome in this new land

A million or more new survivors cast up on the shore
They settled, they made new homes and they Multiplied though just like the ones that came before

Not that great

Sometimes I try to write but I'm not all that great my poems aren't good either, I can't just whip one up on the spur of the moment they happen sure but try to sit down and write one nope that doesn't happen, poems appear for me I can't make them appear they just happen

Writing is the same even though a "short" is something I can make happen they unlike poems don't just appear I make notes, I think over them..no I don't drool over them that's silly.
See I'm a popper when it comes to a "short" mostly if I think too much nothing comes out at all, if I'm interrupted which is most times the thought process stops completely that's why most of my stories are short which is amazing as I have trouble with ends ... don't know when to shut up ;)

So for me to be in a group like this one is like being in the "fast tracked" class at school, its difficult for me I'm a bit slow compared to the rest but at least I try
This week was Season of Change it had colours one of which I had to get out the dictionary to find out what it meant and it had to be melancholy or sad something I don't normally do either, most of my stories have a happy or surprise ending.
So here's me looking up the words thinking oh boy I can't make a poem appear and the seasons here are different so I'll have to do something 'left of center'
Anyway this was my thought process
Colours, multicoloured, reds browns blues = opals
Hard shell, reddish brown = the earth
Opals are mined where the ground is white, soooo that's no good **was slapping head at this point**
Gold is mined from dark earth and is found with quartz < -- YaY ... see easy (yeah right only took me 2 days to get to that *doh*)

This is my short..my short that took days

Mosaic of the fall

“I told you to shore that up didn’t I” the older miner said, the red dust mixing with his sweat making his face the same colour as the surrounding earth, he was now a tawny reddish brown from head to foot the only colour visible was his eyes the colour of a blue topaz

“You trying to kill us both?” he yelled at the younger man, he had only taken him on because he was getting older now the mine almost getting too much for him to work on his own, the younger man a son of a friend as he had no son’s of his own.
No wife would accept a miner as a husband clothes sepia like the landscape, his shell his miners shell as hard to break through as the land itself

They used explosives down in the cold hard earth, partly deaf now and going blind his eyes accustomed to the dark the older miner never really saw the seasons he saw rock, he saw gold he saw profit.

His life as it was, was coming to an end and the younger man would be his legacy. The younger man who picked up a rock saw the beauty that the older now did not see; he saw the colours he saw the seasons of eons in the rock. He saw the dust falling from the ceiling of the mine, like tiny pieces of the older man falling away his life his work slowing drifting down, he saw but his shout was too late another slide another fall, fell between him and the older man.
As he emerged dusty, covered in head to toe an almost invisible object on the pock covered landscape a tear rolled down his face turning brown as it rolled across his face he wiped it away with the back of his hand leaving a smear on his face

He muttered sadly “He never saw the colours… he never saw them”

You ought to know

You ought to know

The words filtered though the rest of the voices, clamoring for attention the cacophony of voices in her head almost driving them out “You ought to know” the voice had said quite clearly this time, she wished she knew how to shut those voices off, the thoughts of others filtering though into her own brain many, many voices a babbling nonsense most of the time but sometimes one was clearer than the rest, like the radio tuning in itself
“You ought to know” it said again, “I ought to know what” she thought
“You ought to know what you are able to do”
She looked around her at the empty street, it had been raining a little, the sweet smell of wet tar and concrete was comforting to her, some long forgotten smell that reminded her of a home that she could hardly remember she had heard the voices over and over since turning 16 this time one had replied to her, wait replied….maybe if I think again the voice will reply again
“Yes, I hear you”
“I hadn’t even thought of anything yet you answer”
“I hear your thoughts little one, you ought to know that”
“You mean you hear me, like I hear you”
“I’m going mad” she said out loud to the street lamp, slightly silly talking to a street lamp but then so was talking to a dismembered voice in your own head
“No little one you aren’t mad” The same voice this time, not in her head but from the alley, Oh great she thought some drunken guy reading my mind.
“No little one, I am not drunk nor on drugs” the tall wispy looking man uttered as he emerged from the shadows of the alley and into the pool of light from the street lamp. I or we to be precise, we have been searching for you for a long time for 16 long years we have searched for you now we have found you little one and I have come to take you home
“You out to know” the voice louder clearer now, the static gone “You ought to know, you are one of us and this is what we do”
She stood under that street lamp light and watched as the man lifted his head to the sky and she heard, quite clearly this time, three words “I found her”

In different directions

In different directions

The day started off normal for Rod his normal cup of tea and toast with a small amount of jam on it, normal enough for a Wednesday he always had jam on a Wednesday. The day was normal enough same as every other day in fact, until Rod went to go out of the house and go to work wasn’t very far and a sunny day. Nice enough to walk, which was good because Rod didn’t like the rain. What was strange about this day was the stillness no dogs barking no children playing not even Jolene who lived next door walking down to the mail box “this is strange” Rod thought to himself I wonder where everyone is they can’t all be sick, was a few off sick at work yesterday but the whole neighborhood, too quiet this is.
He kept walking, and almost slipped, funny hasn’t been raining looked like oil that did too was dark and slick, someone must have been working on a car on the foot path again, Tom is always doing silly things like that Rod muttered
As he turned the corner Rod put his hand on the big red letter box the one with AP written on it in large white letters, he always did that when he walked to work, hand on the lump on the top and swing around, using it like a fulcrum to get around the corner. This time though his hand came away red, “must have re-painted it and not put the wet paint sign on” he thought to himself looking down at his hand now totally red.
At work after washing his hands Rod settled in behind the counter and read the fax that was sat in the machine from the boss saying “not well, you take charge of the shop today Rod”.
He had already checked the register and the stock and opened up, hung the open sign out but today looked like it was going to be quiet very quiet
As it was so quiet he got the window cleaner out and wiped the shop window down some vandal had smeared red stuff on it, kind of looked like hand prints, maybe they touched the mail box too, no couldn’t be that, the ordinary window cleaner wouldn’t take paint off not dry like this was, strange, “well it’s clean now any way” he muttered
Back inside the shop Rod decided that as there wasn’t any customers, none at all by 10.30 bit strange that there’s always a few kids come in about this time from the school to get packets of bubble gum and cans of soft drink that they aren’t supposed to have at school, Rod normally sells them the bubble gum any way, not his problem. Today though there’s not one single person around no one at all, not even any cars driving past
He shook it off there’s probably a detour, council is always digging up the road somewhere and painting letter boxes for that matter and not telling anyone.
I’ll just sit here and read the paper till about 1 then if no one is around I’ll shut shop the boss is sick anyway and a few hours without trade never hurt
The paper was the day befores “paper boy been slack again” he grumbled.
The headline read “Sickness Spreads” good thing I’ve had my flu shot then Rod thought
Just as he was about to read the rest of the front page article a shadow crossed the shop window , Rod looked up to see a man in a suit the man was walking strangely, limping almost staggering, his arms flailing in different directions , “oh this is great” Rod thought the first person I see all day and he’s drunk
Rod called out loudly, “go home you drunk!”


Rod shouldn’t have done that


The man saw Rod sitting inside the shop behind the counter, the smell of fresh meat made him start to slobber, and he would have smiled if he didn’t have half of his face missing, the drool mixed in with the blood covering the rest of his face, a groan escaped the Zombies mouth, that was the last sound Rod ever heard

Road of what ifs

Road of what ifs
What if I had said no what if I hadn’t been made to do what I did, you can say no body can make you do anything but when you are scared and not given any other choice you will do anything
What if I hadn’t, what if I had said no that strong decisive no that says you mean it
I have traveled down that road of what ifs many times, always going over that time, always going back to a two letter word NO
I never said yes I didn’t say that two letter word either, my world was chaos I was lost the signs all turned around and pointing in the wrong directions those that I saw where faded and hard to decipher I was pulled and tugged onto a road that I did not want to travel on, a pull of many that I could not break free of all because of one single two letter word
The road of what ifs would have been rocky I know it, I have traveled it in my mind many times the destination different to the one I am at now
My road of what ifs is my own personal road, a secret mist shrouded road only known to me

Without a map

Without a map

The moonlight, the softness of the night, the absolute stillness broken only by the sound of the car engine. The headlights only a illuminating a small speck in the darkness of the night, where she was she had no idea .The tress lining the sides of the straight road looked almost as if someone some where had laundered them and used too much bleach they seemed to twist and turn into grotesque shapes as she drove slowly past but her mind was elsewhere thinking yearning for a reason to do the thing she was doing. Now lost in the darkness with no other place to go all she could do was drive, the car running low on fuel and no real idea where she was. The landscape bathed by the moonlight leached grey like her heart the whys the wherefores of she had no idea she hadn’t really contemplated that. Her thoughts changed to all the heartbreak she had caused, people had said that she had to conscience no soul, no real heart dwelt beneath her pounding chest only a cold steel chunk, was the night out to get her, to finally seek it’s vengeance on her troubled soul.
Slowly gently the night closed in on her, her eyes blinked and very gently she slipped of to the forever sleep the total black sleep of forever, forever lost, forever searching, forever away from the outskirts and the borders of reality

That’s the first thing that came into my warped mind when Rods writing challenge came up, but I don’t really like it it’s too dark, so hopefully this is a better ending

“oh” she yelped as the car came to a slow standstill up against the white marker post , “I really must be more careful driving at night”, she got out of the car and went to check, just a small scratch on the paint work no more, she had almost fallen asleep and was more or less dreaming she wasn’t really lost at all, no one needed maps around here, there was only one road leading from one side of the island to the other, sometimes in the uninhabited part in the middle it got a little gloomy but you couldn’t possibly need a map
She checked the back of the car, yes that magnificent spice rack she had just bought still filled the whole back seat, every imaginable herb, condiment and spice from all countries was included in the price, it had taken her most of the day to bargain that down to a reasonable cost but she did it, it was still a weeks profit from the restaurant but she didn’t care it was worth it. Its size alone would make it a draw card. With the window wound down she slammed through the gears crunching second slightly “I must get that seen too” she muttered and with the stereo now blaring some vigorous rock tune that suddenly got clearer as she neared the crest of a hill, she could see the towns outskirts and knew exactly what she was doing and where she was, she was home and home safe


Now this ending is just silly really, talk about sing the happy, happy dance

Just outside the borders of the town, a place that you can only find if you are lost, a place that doesn’t appear on any maps. There is a happy place, a place where the elves sing and dance and the fairy’s sing, their little wings as they fly around your head tickle your nose and make you sneeze a happy sneeze, The chairs are made of sugar and the tea cups are buttercups, everyone is so happy and dance around the pretty red capped mushrooms all day long

De tour ahead

“Beep, Beep” the road runner pronounces as he speeds past the pack of cyclists, their poor legs pumping away at such a rate as to be just a blur, onwards and forwards they push themselves the detour sign pointed left, and it was slightly strange that they had now entered a totally 2 dimensional landscape of only brightly coloured buttes and mesas with only the occasional Acme company advertising sign in the last few miles, the leader was looking ahead the rest of the pack followed his lead, head to the butt of the rider in front they hadn’t noticed that the reality of the race had changed somewhat even though the crowd cheers had turned into a distorted crackly sounding laugh track ,they didn’t look up.
Pity really they should have because the trap was laid, the anvil the 200 pound Acme company anvil balanced precariously on a ledge above
The beep, beep had been the coyotes cue; he had lit the fuse to blow up the rocket, it was too late a whoosh and wizzzing sound and the Beep, Beep of the roadrunner
was the last thing they heard
That will teach them to follow blindly like sheep you never know where you may end up

Dragon girl

It had been very quiet around the place lately and the young girl was startled when she heard the first few notes waft over the cobbles
She had been out collecting herbs even though she hadn’t gotten many; she had collected little white stones as well and had them in the fold of dress
She crunched her self as tight to the wall as possible she wasn’t really supposed to be still out and was supposed to be back in the kitchen by now helping the tuber preparation
The first few notes of the gitar rang out strong and sweet and she hummed softly to her self the notes of the ballad, oh a wrong note, she thought to her self he will have to practice that one a little longer.

My apologies too Anne McCaffrey

Crying in the night

Crying in the night

She was bending over at the wooden door the sweat pouring off her, her heart beating rapidly I cant possibly do this she thought and she was still feverishly hammering thinking of the horrible noises she had heard down in the dark gloomy basement last night, When she heard a noise stood up straight and turned around too put the hammer down on the table when another hand a cool smooth hand touched hers
She jumped back and dropped the hammer on her foot
“OW”
“Hey babe” her next door neighbor called out
“Didn’t mean too scare you just bringing in some lettuce and tomatoes from me garden you know mine are the freshest around”
He looked at the door then the nails sticking out haphazardly this way and that, bent over some even on the floor, hammer marks on the wood then turned to her standing there with a look on her face like a scared deer under the headlights standing on one leg holding trying too hold her foot in one hand
He hurriedly placed the sack on the counter and grabber her by the shoulder guiding her too a chair,
“Here sit hunny I’ll make you a cup of tea”
“Gordon you know I don’t like tea and I don’t like you calling me hunny either”
But hun’ he stopped himself Helen you look like someone just died and why in the name of all is holy have made such a mess of that door
“Coffee Gordon” she gasped and I’ll tell you all about it

Early this morning I woke to the sound of a baby crying
“Ain’t no babies around here Helen”
“I know that Gordon now don’t interrupt”
I woke too the sound of a baby crying and well I know there aren’t any around here not unless someone’s got one hidden and you know this neighborhood I don’t think that secret would keep long
As I came down the stairs too the kitchen, the crying got louder and more intense it seemed too be coming from the behind that door she pointed too the basement door
It was very dark and very cold down there I’ve never been further than the bottom of the stairs down there in the basement I don’t like it never have
Even though the rest of the house is bright and sunny the basement is cold dark and gloomy and it smells nasty too
I just don’t go down there at all but the crying was coming from down there I just had too go it was so pain filled and the feeling I was getting from it well it was making me cry too I had too go, step by step in the dark each step getting closer too the sound
Suddenly







“Whoa what’s that” Gordon jumped back spilling his coffee on the table
“Oh that Gordon is the source of the crying that cat was trapped down in the basement and it was crying its head off, of course it wasn’t going too sit at the door oh no, I had too go right down and grab it too get it out.
Help me hammer these last few nails into the cat door will you please Gordon otherwise that door will never be opened again and that cats going too wake me up every night