Poetry & Stories

Screams were heard as black hands clutched on Nintendo 64 controllers. Three brothers burned calories while the sun slumbered. Blood on the walls and floors, yet nobody was harmed. Bullets flew and bodies dropped. A brother smiled, the other frowned. Another sat in silent concentration. The atmosphere was such that it was as if a fourth person stood in the room. The youngest of the three was the most skilled. The oldest the least competent. The night was old, and the games were brand new. Eyes were tightened, buttons were pressed…

An AK47 in hand, I searched the depths of the temple for my predators. Little could be seen in the darkness. Music issued from the ceiling as I turned a corner. Nobody here. The eyes blinked in an effort to remain focused. Silence…

My third eye kicked in as I turned and caught my opponent by surprise. I cocked my weapon towards him, straight for the chest, and pulled. Ditto. Such was the timing that it was as if we’d shot ourselves. BANG, BANG, BANG.

My life was going down, but I stood my ground. He was falling, his weapon still singing. Mine kept pace with his. We were both falling, so symmetrical, like an act. The red stains on our clothing could very well have been ketchup. My eyes went wide as he took out a bigger weapon. My hand went for mine… and found none. Thank God we live twice.

I opened my eyes again. Get me a weapon. I ran naked through the corridors, scared of being caught. I ran past a corpse, and saw it was me. Shuddering, I turned right, and saw an old friend. The man I had once killed was running in my direction, weapon drawn. I froze for a split second, and was defrosted by his fire. I dashed for the nearest exit. He kept pace, reckless in his shooting.

Get me a weapon! As if in answer, I heard a loud beep, beep, beep. Time was running, but not on its own. The beeps blast in my ears as I made my escape. Walls inches from me were torn by my old friend’s fire. I turned right, heart racing, nakedness flaring. Beep, beep beep! A weapon! But I frowned: no ammo?

My heart stopped beating, it was a dead end. I turned and saw my pursuer, his gun pointed at my head. I said my prayers. And the shot was never fired.

 Black eyes went wide as mouths raged. The youngest of the three wiped his brow.

‘You were lucky’ the oldest said, turning, ‘this close to shooting you down’ he made a gesture with his thumb and index finger to put emphasis on his words.

‘I won’ said the older, ‘you’re both rubbish’

‘You had the best weapons’ the younger replied,

‘’Cause I’m the best’ he boasted,

‘Next game?’ the oldest inquired,

The brothers nodded. Black hands clutched on Nintendo 64 controllers, cartridges were replaced, and buttons were pressed...

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

The rain and cold bit into him, but he hardly felt it. The wind slashed through his open jacket, but he dared not close it. He dared not move at all.

Facing him was the most succulent piece of femininity he had ever laid eyes upon. She was blacker than the night, and arrayed in appealing clothing. Her frame was of excellence, her posture blameless. Her face was of such sweetness that his tooth was aching, and her hair embedded with such… such grandeur, that his lip could not stop trembling.

But her eyes… her eyes were the finishing blow. These were the reason he dared not move. Somehow, those eyes had decided to meet with his. And although he was not worthy… he knew that only a crazy man would look away.

What he saw in those eyes was beyond description. This woman was not like the rest. There was warmth in their midst capable of slicing the coldest of hearts. There was love in their depths capable of holding any man captive… A furious sea of emotions was locked within them, and restrained by her power. And most of all… there was an unusual beauty about them that surpassed all the beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

His eyes remained locked with hers. He could nearly sense the words they were formulating. But what was she saying? As he studied her facial features, she made a triangular motion with her eyes, scanning his eyes and lips.

A feeling spread over his body. It was as if a switch buried deep within had just been turned on. His heart rate sped up. His mind was racing, chemicals were released… his brain was getting ecstatic…

And the impossible happened. She broke eye contact. His heart jumped a beat. His tooth stopped aching. His lip went still. Why had she broken eye contact? Another feeling spread through him. Grief. It was like a baby being ripped from his mother’s arms. It was like his heart had just been torn out. It was like realizing that there was no oasis in the desert, that it had been a mirage.

The woman was looking to her left. He turned his gaze, and witnessed a bus approaching. His heart screamed and his eyes grew wide as he quickly understood what was happening. His mind cried out to her, but she was walking away. He stood and watched helplessly.

And then the incredible happened. He ran out onto the road to intercept her. Across the traffic he ran, heedless of the vehicles that could take his life. The cars howled in warning. The rain and wind struck in an attempt to reason with him. But he was beyond help…

The woman looked back. He sighed and beheld her eyes once more, unaware that he was in the middle of the road. Once again he lost himself within those eyes… and a smile crossed his face. Such beauty…

It was then that a car struck him.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

He entered the poorly lit room which had stayed the same ever since he had been born, on that cold day of December 1941 when the German planes flew overhead and his mum squeezed him out in fear and trembling, trembling as the bombs hit the garden and threw dirt and rock all across the windows, windows which were meant to be barricaded but stood open to allow fresh air in on that day of labour. This room had stood the test of time, it was in this very room that life had been given to him, and now, by his own hand, he would take that life away.

He looked around for his tools, his equipment, the ones that had been put there for this particular purpose, the ones that his relatives would find wrapped tight around his neck and lying on the wooden floor.

The butt of his tool sprung into his vision. Satisfied, he bent over to extract it from its hiding place. It was on point, nice and firm, and would not fail him. Not this time. The rope marks on his neck burned as the blood pumped past it, and he remembered his last attempt to take his own life.

What choice did he have? There was nothing left in this world. His wife divorced him and took the kids after cheating on him with his brother, the same brother who had cold-bloodedly murdered his best friend on a drunken night. This led to him killing his brother as hatred and rage built against him and went past its boiling point as it spilled in a flurry of fists and strikes. His wife, his kids, his brother, and his job too had been taken away from him. Even his own parents no longer spoke to him, let alone acknowledge that he still existed. But the worst blow had been when he discovered that no money was left in his bank account. As to how this had happened, nobody seemed to know.

He sighed as he put the chair in place, climbed it, and sealed the ropes which were impatiently waiting to strangle him. The clock ticked and his heartbeat slowed to a steady thump as he slowly calmed himself down and prepared for his… vacation.

The rope now around his neck, he stood on the chair, and let himself be aware that he still saw, still breathed, still lived. His grandmother this time would not be there to suddenly wreck his suicide attempt, because she also had died this very morning. He had discovered her dead on the kitchen floor as she cooked toast, and upon catching her in that state, he had felt no remorse, just morning hunger, which led him to eat the toast which she had been preparing for him and to leave her where she lied.

At worst, he would apologize when he saw her…

That said, he kicked the chair aside.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

She lied in the middle of a field, arrayed in simple robes. The wind brushed her tears as it cuddled the pastures, and wrapped itself around nearby trees.

She did not feel its touch, did not hear its sigh as it weaved through branches. Its melody was lost to her as she slept.

How deeply she slumbered. She found herself in a field of tulips, which swayed to a pleasant breeze. She gravely marvelled at their perfume. A creature stood facing her. She gasped as she beheld it; it was a perfect reflection of her: miserable, beaten, haggard. It gazed at her knowingly, as if they had already met. It parted its lips to speak, but no sound came. Instead, she felt the breeze caress her tenderly, and words come into her mind:

Again I see the simplicity of the robes you wear,

As well as the sorrow you cradle and bear,

Again you shed tears on a daily basis,

Having mistaken a mirage for an oasis.

Her eyes widened in sadness as she recalled the creature from dreams past. Before she knew it, the wind assailed her:

I see how you flitter from man to man,

Hoping each will love you as best they can,

So you give of yourself without giving a thought,

Only to be discarded like a product ill-bought.

Tears filled the creature’s eyes, and she helplessly felt her own eyes moisten.

‘Get away!’ she cried, ‘Why do you still haunt my every dreams?’

I will haunt you and daunt you till the end of your days,

Out of wishing an end to your promiscuous ways,

Out of wishing an end to the use and abuse,

Till you’re no longer confused or refused by mere men.

The wind raged. The creature’s appearance altered. Its jaw widened, its muscles broadened as it grew taller, until it resembled her last lover. He grinned.

Hate clouded her as she beheld him. ‘You!’ she gnarled, with pain wrung in her voice, ‘You promised...’

Her lover’s impersonation’s mouth cracked opened: ‘There yer go whining’ again, always yappin yer trap about marriage an’ shit.’ He shrugged, and grinned, ‘Ma friend was right though... you was a fine bitch.’

Again the creature’s aspect shifted until it looked liked her. Her face was full of pity. One by one, as if to emphasize the bareness she felt, the tulips’ petals were blown by the wind.

How long will you sleep in the middle of fields,

And repel my advice with sticks and shields?

Get away from this place, stay put till you’ve grown,

By then your husband will come all on his own.

To her horror, the creature transformed again into her lover.

‘Why do you torment me so?’ she moaned, ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’

‘Coz yer never listen.’ The impersonation said, as he stepped towards her menacingly, ‘Stop flirtin’ wit those other boys!’

She raised her arms protectively as he aimed to strike her, pleading.

And woke up in the field.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories