Frost

There is a mob family who was once very down on their luck. And smarts. And moral flexibility. Their cover job, an ice cream factory, had been pulling in more money than than any of their underhandedness for over a decade. All of them reminisced about that short shining time when they were the kingpins of the city.
Their enemies sensed the weakness and circled and planned their attack on the Family like Hyenas praying on the week. For the older brother, the moral delima of their situation was excruciating. He sat all day in their office, attempting to devise a perfect plan. One day, his younger brother burst in, more exited than he'd been in weeks, and beckoned him to come. The eldest did so, and listened with mounting apprehension to his brothers claims of 'solving their problem'. He followed the youngest to the factory's walk in freezer. Upon entering he saw the opposing Mob's Boss curled up and shivering on the floor. He turned aghast to his grinning brother, who said
"The mob cant make decisions without their leader and now we don't have to kill anybody because look! nothing cold can stray."

55 words

CONSIDERING for litmag


The funeral for Mrs. Lampardt was silent and somber. ' Opposite of how she'd of wanted it' Mr. Lampardt thought. His closest friend wrapped him in a hug, and cried "she was so strong, unbelievable that she fell from just a bump, just horrible..."
"I know, i had to accidentally bump her 6 times."

Dream/pattern

I'm standing on a tall building, surrounded by eggs, and I crack and separate the yolk from the, uh, clear part, which is sometimes the most tedious thing I do all day. It is fall and Spiderman, my old idol, hes standing just 15 feet away from me stretching out the milk, which I add to the yolks. I don't remember why I do this, but the end result is good, so, I want to fly like he does through the skyscrapers. He soothes my worries and tells me that I can all on my own. Just like him, chop and search always one ingredient is missing and I'm STARVING, I check the pantry for the umpteenth time, I know the entire bag of onions was not consumed over night, and I peer over the edge of the building. Yeah, I think I can, anyway, ill figure it out when I drop the eggs into the pan and they sizzle, quickly frying and morphing.

Wide World poem: Spin

As i wrote this it became about another work of literature, so while i didn't rip off the writing it does not apply to me personally. is that ok?

I promised to look through a mirror

Though he wouldn’t say why.

Still building illusions on a flooring of lies.

Trick a lonely little girl

can’t be hard

She'll give her whole soul to please you

every last shard.

So spin your lies Riddle

Say their better than truths.

Say she’s to pure for this world

That your favor's puritanical.

She’s fading now Riddle

No more use for the mirror.

The last of her drips onto that you hold dear

But it’s your soul that’s crushing.

And then a small scrape, a little lie, and then nothing.

Wide World Poem: Paradocks

CONSIDERING for litmag

When your bones start to creak
and they call you a freak
just fall,
its all right now.
When the wind in your hair
stops raping the air
and it takes you where you wanted to go?
you know that the fiend and the
simple thing
are unfolding and starting to show.
Take the act for its word
If you haven't heard,
It ain't Knowledge
its not needing to know.

Collaborative Work aka This Is Not Entirely My Fault

Coca-cola furniture... "Frankly, im suspicious of the whole thing." Kate had entered the tutor shop hoping to find a gift for her quirky cousin, but this may even be past his limit. Kate was desperatly searching for a good gift for him. Kate felt the cold steel of a gun barrel on her neck as a voice said "come with me NOW!" No one seen the man but there was one guy a couple blocks down who saw the whole thing. A leather gloved hand forced her head down and outside of the back door, throwing her ruthlessly in the trunk of the car. She banged up against the roof of the trunk ofd the door for about an hour until it finally opened. "hi, what you up to?" said Kate.

Hamlet: Alternate ending

Hamlet looked nervous the moment I told him. Understandably, I thought. He must be absolutely petrified, i mean his mother is here. But he managed a golden boy smile and we found our seats. the play began, and i must say, i enjoyed it a-plenty. best friends, side kicks, thrust front and center. hamlet didn't seem to be appreciating the story line though, he looked far more the dramatic wreck than any of the characters on stage. not to say i wasn't sympathetic to his plight, but come on. i put a lot of work into this case. When the third act came around he looked seriously woozy, and i worried he might pass out, so i steadied him and leaned over to whisper
"its time, lets go around back. i know a way under the stage."
I stood and walked and he followed, i know because i heard the complaints of all the people he tripped over in the aisles. I mean i know he was nervous to face the music, but come on. I'm trying to keep a low profile here? anyway, i had found my entrance that morning, and i think Ham was a little shocked when i barged right in under the stage and locked the door behind us.
He started turning in wild circles, looking for a third party in the space below the stage.

I burst out laughing. Dear old Ham, The Drama Queen. But who was i to talk, i had created the whole spectacle, all just to say:
"Ham. I know."
He spun for a moment before freezing stiff. Sometimes the guy is such a good actor he believes himself.
' I knooow" I singsonged. Evil on my part, i know, but my best friend had me on a wild goose chase. Did he not trust me enough to tell me? Did he think i couldn't handle it? Well, he knew the act was up then, only stood and waited. For a while we stared at each other trying to gauge a reaction.

I broke the silence, let out a sigh and slid down a stage prop background to sprawl on the floor.
"Did you think i would turn you in?" My question hung heavy in air, drawing my breath tight, but it was just dead weight. He would say anything to get me on his side. He looked shocked. And here we go.
"of course." he blurted. "your the best guy i know, of course i thought so." And i hadn't expected that. Heck, i never even considered turning him in. I looked up and met his eyes, then reached out a hand. He yanked me up. "hey," i said "I'm committed to this case, Now I'm just committed to keeping it covered up."

Draw it, and write about it!

warning: i have no idea how this turned into a story about evil and the end of mankind, and i dont like it anymore thn the narrator.

'Johnson's eyes were always half lidded, or downcast. But he was never mistaken for shy or violent, and once a person had made initial the assesment of "jeez, if i had polka-dotted eyes id' keep 'em shut to" was made, strangers never bothered to analyze Johnson. And he was, to everyone i guess, a stranger.

I know i never though about him when he supervised in my building, and we walked to work the same way. Now i think about him just about every godamn day. i think of him the way a child thinks of monsters, trying not to , but inevitably my mind throws the images at me. Am i paranoid? is this really what the future holds?

I dont remember those dotted eyes darting around in shame turning into the still, unforgiving glare. But it doesnt matter, we wont let him win his war. Humanity has never lost before and well beat that freak. i dont feel bad for him, never have and i dont care much what anyone says. Hes threatened my children by god, and' crunch
Johnson fisted the torn paper and stared into a wall. "the homosapien experiment has peaked, Fellows. And since emotional progress has halted, its time to put them out, i suppose." His eyes rolled downcast.

Tornado Warning

I heard the tornado warning wailing at around 8:14 am, in the shotgun seat of a volvo driven by my one-shock-away-from-an-anxiety-attack best friend. She insisted we enter the school IMMEDIATLY. i deferred with 'nah, we got time to chill'. she was allready rolling on an anxiety high and declined my offer though.
Eventually, after being threatended by the pet people across the street i came into the school and ended up in the biology hall. Tete a locker, i exchanged the obligatory sarcastic remarks with a friend and waited. after around ten minutes, a man decided to soothe our fears by yelling down the hall magorly compsed of freshman: "Stay calm, do not PANIC. There is absolutely no place i would rather be than here with you all..." I can only assume he was trying to cause panic, but who knows. No one on our hall had ever seen hm before.
We waited, then complained. For lack of anything else to do we repeated that stratagy. but who am i kidding, that drill was the spirit boost of my week.

Water Prompt

water is raw like air and time spent alone and nurture. I love water, obviously. I have been on a swim team for as long as i can remember, but i never liked the team part. i liked the time i got to spend after in the blue like infinity water. Slowly everyone but the sand colored lifegaurds and a few equally blurry lap swimmers in the lanes would trickle out. Looking back, i cannot believe the utter privacy i felt. The strangeness I exhibited in that public of a situation, but i felt completely at ease. I had this corner, at the ymca decatur pool, that i favored unreasonably. It came complete with those reflecting metal stairs that go down deep into the pool. It doesnt sound like much but underwater, where i apparently believed i was invisible, those stairs were the titanic and i was a mermaid. Or they were a torture chamber, holding me, a spy, underwater in some cruel and unusual form of torture.
those poor lifegaurds.
I have truly impressive lung capacity. I could stay 3 feet under water, coming up for deep breaths, for around an hour. Maybe more, i had no concept of time, still dont actually, which has more to do with ignorance than underwater balance and mental capacities being screwy. When i am underwater, everything else has the appearence of being unreal. Quiet. Only my thoughts and imagination and felings matter so yeah, i guess ye good ole stereotype of 'water as peace' is as appropriate as it comes.