• Writing

    The Friday Muse – Level 3

    Blood. Lots of blood, smeared on the walls, smeared on her face and arms. It was thick, and it smelled sweet. She inhaled a deep breath and fell in love with the scent. She would wear it as a perfume if she could. The blood wasn’t hers, of course. This fact alone would have supplied some level of relief for X88 if she cared. But she didn’t care. She didn’t have the time nor the strength to care about those she had to mow through to get to Level 3. The day had rewound like it always did. At 11:59:59 the night before, the day – the program – restarted,…

  • Uncategorized

    Dissatisfied With The Satisfying

    “What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.” – Maya Angelou Today is a good a time as any to confess something to all of you: I complain. A lot. What’s funny, is I don’t even notice I’m complaining most of the time. But my wife does. My friends do. Strangers hear it. As the years have moved on, I’ve grown into more and more of an introvert. I’m not sure why that is. I guess I’ve just experienced so much heartache and so many struggles that I just don’t…

  • The Friday Muse,  Writing

    The Friday Muse – The Mad Sea

    The sea slapped the shore like an abusive lover. The pieces left behind, tiny granules of sand, sifted away like fearful mice, retreating into the embrace of that which shattered them. Never to be seen again. Never to be thought of or missed or praised. Their existence was cut short, but nobody protested it. Not the abusive ocean tide or the abused sand. Life went on. Life was cruel. Corey watched the madness of the water at a safe distance from the shore. She knew the ocean was freezing cold this time of year, and many times, especially on this end of Harborite, a rare jellyfish would hijack the ocean…