Friday, September 17, 2010

A Short Poem

I'd write of a bubble, if not for the pop.
It's the splash that I fear, and so also the drop.
My wings stay grounded, for with flight comes landing.
I hate falling over, and so I'm not standing.
The lovely beginning seems not worth the end,
But the journey is worth it, if you have a friend.

Who's With Me For Life's Last Stand?

January 1349, Rome:

Beth walked into the room and looked at the form of the malnourished child covered by the sheet.

"He's been like that for days," said the boy's mother who was standing behind her. "I don't know what to do. I've tried everything."

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Destroy the Past to Save the Future

December 25, 1899, London:
The twin boys rushed down the stairs, stumbling over each other as they raced to the sparkling tree. They squealed with joy when their eyes fell upon the presents under the Christmas tree. Their eyes then fell upon the couch, where their parents sat with another man and woman.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Fing Fang Foom Has Absolutely No Genitals Whatsoever!

New Earth, 2 weeks after the creation of the dragon:

"Another building in the warehouse district destroyed tonight, as the hunt for the so called "Iron Dragon" continues," buzzed the radio. "Wranglers have been searching for the elusive beast since it killed what many presume to be its creator, a 46 year old technogician, and destroyed his workshop. It has continued to wreak havoc in the area, but with no real pattern or motive apparent. The Wranglers have advised all citizens to stay clear of the warehouse district as much as possible. Another fire on the northsi--kzzt!"

The Strange Casefiles of Horatio Morgan, Chapter 4

I started writing this 45 minutes ago. It still counts.
"I won't tell you anything," growled the werewolf through his clenched teeth. "And you'll gain nothing from killing me. Stop bluffing."

Sunday, September 12, 2010

The Strange Casefiles of Horatio Morgan, Chapter 3

Horatio drew his gun and pointed it at the nearest werewolf.

"Unless that thing is loaded with silver, you're wasting your time," growled the werewolf. "Hand over everything you took from the crime scene and we'll let you live."

Horatio backed up to a locked wardrobe in the corner of the room near the window.

"Very well," he said, calmly unlocking it.

"A wise decision," said the werewolf.

"You were right, you know," said Horatio, fiddling with something hidden in the wardrobe. "This isn't loaded with silver. But I'd imagine it will hurt anyways."

Horatio spun and fired two shots into each of the werewolves. They howled in pain as Horatio pulled a harpoon gun out of the wardrobe and leaped out the window.

"I hope this works," he muttered as he fired it into the top of the roof of the tavern across the street. The harpoon stuck firmly, and, using the rope attached to it, Horatio swung across the street and through the tavern window.

Back in the study, the wolves were still writhing in pain. One looked out the window and informed the leader that Horatio was gone.

"You bastard," mumbled Thaddeus. "I suppose I'll deal with the werewolves alone then."

Thaddeus rolled to his feet and grabbed one of the werewolves by its shoulder. Catching the monster by surprise, he threw him back threw the annihilated doorway and tumbling down the stairs. The other two spun and faced Thaddeus.

"Go catch the man, he has the bullet!" barked the leader, and the other werewolf flew out the window.

Thaddeus pulled his gun out of its holster and opened the chamber.

"See this?" said Thaddeus, holding up the silver bullet that Horatio had removed from the body, "it killed one of you already."

Thaddeus slid the bullet into the gun and cocked it. He raised  the barrel to the wolf's forehead.

"How did you get that?" said the stunned werewolf.

"Horatio tossed it to me while you were busy being shot. Now tell me what's going on."


Horatio stood up and brushed the broken glass off of his shirt. The tavern was completely silent, its few patrons snapped out of the drunken haze, staring at the newcomer. He looked around, then picked up his hat and put it on.

"Dreadfully sorry about the mess. I'll pay for the damages," he said to the bartender. Horatio then stumbled out through the backdoor and into the narrow alleyway. It was overrun with garbage and dirt. He turned right and began walking towards the street. He was about fifty feet from the end of the alley when a werewolf turned the corner. Horatio spun around and sprinted back the other way, and the werewolf pursued him, bolting down the alley on all fours. It quickly caught Horatio and tackled him to the ground. They both rolled through the dirt and stopped with Horatio on his back and the werewolf on top of him, baring his enormous teeth.

"Give me the bullet," it growled. Horatio could feel its thick breath on his face, and its eyes shown red through its dark grey fur.

"I'd love to help you, but I don't  actually have any more. I think you might have some of mine lodged in your chest, though," Horatio retorted.

"The silver bullet. Now."

"I don't have that either," said Horatio. He grabbed a wooden plank with his right hand and swung it as hard his he could, shattering it across the predator's face. The werewolf howled and fell over, leaving Horatio an opening. He got up and sprinted towards the other end of the alley.