You will not pour ice on my mic Just because my lesson burns You’re not allowed to shame me‘cause your mind's too closed to learn I refuse to change my words around Or remove a single phrase‘cause my message is a mirror That reflects your naked face Race, religion, vices, or violence If it colors our existence Then my voice shall not be silent Still, you challenge my words And you work to smear and smother But what salts...

Mr. Raymond's Jingling Jangling Wagon Mr. Raymond had so many pots and pans and other metal objects hanging from his pushcart he could not move it a couple of feet without the noise alerting the folks on Mulberry Lane that he was on his way. He was the Mulberry Lane peddler and philosopher whose wit and wisdom offered his customers not only something they might need or want, but also warm-hearted attention to lighten thei...

True Illumination There was once a lush and beautiful forest teeming with life, and any who passed through it felt refreshed and cheerful. Its borders stretched all the way from the village of Terrapacia, on the west, to the great waters of Undalar, on the East, and every time the people of the village held a wedding, or a feast, or a celebration of any kind, they held it in the forest. Now to the North, in the craggy wil...

Once, a boy was asked by his mother, what he wanted to become in his life. He said—a writer. The mother laughed. But seeing the boy’s expressions firm and eyes in flames, she said; “Well, you sure, that is what you want to do? Writers are all insane. They always smoke and drink. They live with many women. They are nasty creatures and governments hunt them.” The boy looked sad. And he said nothing in return. He decided to...

Allowing myself to misplace reality's grip.Dwelling yet again in the past, feeling dismay.Into the bottomless depths of darkness I slip.Why could life not have been a different way? Trying to regain clarity, not where I want to be.Descending to the abyss, luminosity fading fast.Not fearing the dark, but the demons awaiting me. Been here many times, heart stressed, mind aghast. Plummeting downward, chilled through the bone...

My storybook lover is romantic, he would never hurry his sweetheart in a love scene, but tonight I want him to... "Make love to me, darling. In one hundred words or less." "Micro fiction?" "Yes." "Get your skirt off then." I begin slowly undoing the buttons on my... "Just do it, don't describe it." "It has to be sexy." "But you're using all the words up!" "Don't shout at me." "Sorry, sweetie." Silence. More silence. "We'v...

The question was whether I should kill him very slowly or just slowly. He was sitting on the ground badly injured after his fall. His back was propped up against the base of a large rock. I kept my revolver aimed at his chest. I was standing about ten feet away.“Ya gotta be hubbie, right?” he asked. “Cause ya sure don’t look like no cop or ranger.”“Yes,” I responded. “I’m the husband.”“Yer a lucky man!” he said. “She was...

Nobody said it would be easy. She just didn’t expect it’d be this hard. The clock ticks the hours, the minutes, the seconds, and with each passing minute of daylight, she sighs deeply and braces for the screams. Her husband’s arrival carries with it simultaneous relief and anguish for she knows he, too, fears the minutes, the hours, the untold time that will pass tonight, and the screams that will ensue. She smiles at her...

A female has moved into my territory, a healthy young blonde, ripe for breeding and bearing good child. She could be my mate, once I've captured her, subdued her and proved my worth as her man.Sounds easy enough, but this female is small, flighty and quick. One stray sound and she's off like the wind, racing through shadows to seek cover amongst the ruins and rubble. I've no hope of chasing her down, so instead I'm intent...

Lynette Baxter was born a beautiful child with light brown hair and blue eyes as most babies are, one of thousands born that same day. Not an unusual birth, except, of course, to her parents who were completely enthralled with her arrival. She was a cute normal baby. If she had stayed that way who knows what would have happened or wouldn't have happened. Lynette advanced normally through her first year or more. Her mother...

Coffee. What Sam needed was coffee. He was a walking zombie, desperate for caffeine. It was a condition of his own making, he had to admit, since he was the one who'd wanted to drive on their family vacation instead of flying. And so they had spent more than 40 percent of their holiday — two days down and two days back — stuffed into a Hyundai Sonata, a car which seemed roomy enough during his solo daily commute but quick...

Vacations were far and few between for this family, so when Daddy had a chance to take one, he jumped at it. I cannot remember the last time we took one. But then again, I am only eleven.I was sitting in the back seat of our old beat up jet black Volvo Station Wagon with my little brother. He was licking his cherry lollipop and his lips were red because he played with it more than sucked it. I just wanted to grab it and t...

“The play is the thing!” and there we were. Lights dim. The orchestra being itself. The actors being someone entirely different. All was as it should be. The moment was perfect. A mini-vacation.... the first outing since the funeral. Nearly grown children sitting one on either side of me. The Godspell of Stephen Schwartz provided laughter along with quiet moments. Then it began... “Day by day, day by day, oh dear Lord, th...

That summer, it was too hot. We didn’t have a thermometer, and even if we had, the little red lines and numbers wouldn’t have meant much to me. But I knew that it wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be. By the time the church clock struck ten it was already too stifling to venture outside. The sun had swelled to an angry pulsing ball of fire which I had come to regard as evil, lancing my eyes with pain when it glanced off the shin...

She spent all evening carefully sorting out the pieces. Border pieces went in one pile, sky blue in another, darker pieces in a third. Afterwards, content with her progress, she crawled into bed, clutching Rabbit, her one remainder of childhood, to her chest, and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. In the other room, the jigsaw shifted, pieces inching slowly from one pile to the next, intermingling, sometimes forming new pi...