It was noon, the sun was a sweltering around the area, people were wiping sweat off their brows, the gravel itself seemed to be shimmering with tears, it was hot enough that mirages would form, that people would faint of dehydration. Around the lake, however, with the simple, yet tastefully built, lavishly furnished houses, it was cool and calm. The weather was different for the super rich. Discrimination is a part of our world. It can never be eliminated, like roaches or rats. Nature too, selects those it deems the strongest. The sun was cool and calm at the lake, the surface of the watery mirror still. Not a ripple across the wide expense. In a few hours men would come in polos and shorts, congregate around the generously scattered fishing sheds, the women would collect at the houses of their neighbors, sundresses, the latest hats in fashion, sunglasses, and gossip and picnic. For now, they were having afternoon snoozes. The super rich were super sleepy. The lakefront was silent.

Read More

Hickory dickory dock

The mouse went up the clock

The clock struck one

The mouse went down

Hickory dickory dock

Read More

The moonlight was slowly streaming in through the trees, forming silver slivers on the patched grass. The grass was damp, and gave off an earthy smell. Many scents danced on the wind; cinnamon, earth, fresh mud, bark, honeysuckle, and a newcomer to the party was dew. The moon was slowly waning, yawning as she did, clouds covering her face, helping her to be polite. The forest was clean of any signs of humans but for one. 

Read More

There was no thud, no sound, silence, and bated breath as it rolled around, spinning first like a top, then slowing down. Hearts were beating fast. The air was thick with anticipation and fear. Just as it seemed it would stop, the dice spun faster and faster, and then up the track and back down. A gleeful sneer was emanating from it. The shaggy carpet was thick. The dice was alive. It stopped. Each side had anywhere from one image to nine. The dice had twelve sides. Twelve impossibly powerful sides that determined the fate of the world. The men in hoods waited, three men. One on each side that the dice would point. Breath no longer bated, they waited. A whoosh, fast and strong. A sunflower appeared, it had been drawn as to the dice as if by a magnet. The sunflower rested, standing on the dice, it’s roots slowly wrapping around it, taking root. When it was done, there was complete silence. Not a thing stirred, the three men were silent, motionless, their robes still, as if made of lead, their hoods as if made of stone. In unison, as if by some unspoken signal, they each drew out a small plate from their hands, one was lead, one copper, the third silver. One by one, in that order, they walked to a corner of the room, glowing as if underwater, waves of light streaming through only a cylindrical volume of that corner. One by one, they hung the plates to thin wires of metal sticking up. When they were done, a loud click reverberated through the room, there was a burst of wind and a sudden darkness. The lights clicked on silently, a miniature pyramid was hanging over the scales, also upside down. A crescent moon shone in the corner, present in the room, and yet thousands of miles away. A spinning globe appeared on the other side. The moon had eyes, it was sleeping. 

Read More

The cube rolled forward, one side after the other making its mark on the ground. Many revolutions later, it stopped, on the side it had begun from. It was wooden, light brown, marked with lines, ageing wood. The side facing the sky was two lines intersecting at a parallel. It smelled of polished wood, and oil. The L was bright red. From the sky above, a paraglider was falling, slowly, marking the spot he would land at. His jumpsuit was ballooning impossibly, his parachute floating to one side, drifting to another. He landed in between the block, and The Apple. The apple was bright red, a sheen marking one spot on which it seemed light had left a mark forever. It was bright, and shiny. There was a hole in it, and a small green head poked out, an impossible, almost human smile on its face. The apple smelled of paint. There was a tent, a small Indian tent, narrow cone shape, marked with lines, as if marking the height of something, every time it grew the same amount. The distance between the lines was the same. The tent smelled of leather, and magic.

Read More

Selene slumbered, unaware of the forces attracted to her, the Red Sea leaping, every wave reaching higher, trying to reach she who the sea craved for. The Mediterranean Sea also vying for the attention of Mona leapt higher and higher. She slept on, watching over a darkened world. If she had been awake, she would have been horrified at the travesty being inflicted upon the rock she stood guard over.

Read More

The globe was spinning round, faster than comprehension, trajectory slowing down until it came to a shuddering stop. The room was dark and musty, the man hunched over the globe rubbing his hands and laughing gleefully. The room was dim, the only light, casting long shadows over the objects in the room, sucking out all the darkness was from the torch in his hand. It shone upon the earth, a sun open a planet. The globe stopped spinning, a long, crooked, wrinkled finger stretch out, and tapped a spot on the globe that had just come to a halt. It tipped a little, a shudder, evil coming at it from every direction. Somewhere in Egypt, a foreboding of ill crossed the hearts of every resident. A pyramid trembled, shaking off dust, waking up to the reality that even with the pharaohs buried, the Book of Dead hidden and buried under the many winding tunnels in the great triangular obelisk, evil still roamed the earth, made it a playground for mischief, and all those thoughts that came bumping in the night. An archaeologist, examining rocks at a sight nearby saw the dust being shaken off, and rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, magnifying glass dropping from his hands. The laborers, sweat dripping from their bare backs, locals uncaring whether they were clothed or shirtless, also saw it. They too had questions, but soon enough, the dust settled, and like all the minds of weak men, they convinced themselves that they had been deluded, rather than being strong in their convictions.

Read More

The bee flitted around, single minded in its purpose. It could smell the honey. It was one of many workers, each invaluable in bringing food to the hive, if one lost, there were others, but each loss would make the hive that much hungrier than before. Each worker drone, communal as they were, without individuality, was simultaneously more important than and lesser than the whole hive. They were all important. They all had no value. All of them served a purpose. Together they formed a cohesive whole. The loss of one was as the hive losing a limb, an invaluable tendril that would not cause it to starve, but would definitely bring about a famine to the whole. The hive depended on each and every bee. 

Read More

The scales of balance were heavy. Golden, lined with silver, covered with diamonds, jewels of all sorts, shapes, sizes. A rainbow of jewels, glittering and glimmering. If you closed your eyes, just by your nose, you would think you were in an orchard lined with apple trees, and cinnamon trees. The land was empty aside from the scale. It stood towering, taller than any man made skyscraper. The sun shone heavy and harshly on it. A tree appeared, looming larger and larger. It did not seem to be moving, yet it was growing closer. A cool breeze swept through the plain. The tree was ancient, thick girdle, branches heavy under the weight of the life that they bore. The tree emanated with the glow of life, the miracle of birth. It had witnessed many a birth, many a life, many a death. Thousands, the memory held of each held by a singular leaf. It had billions of leaves upon its branches. It was the scribe to all of creation.

Read More

It was coming in from all directions. One after another, a thud, a boom, a click. Huge blaring, blinding flashlights would turn on. The smell of dew hanging in the air. Empty benches all around, big, bright, white bleachers. The field was huge, twice the size of a football field. Another click and the lights turned off simultaneously. He heard the clinking, before he could form an opinion as to what it was, another click and the lights turned back on. Scarabs, everywhere, covering the grass, not one inch left in sight, he could feel them looking at him. Black beady eyes, thousands of them, crawling all over his body, his skin crawling with them. The lights went out, he closed his eyes. He could see the moon in the darkness, it was a crescent today, craters like cheese in it. She had a sad face today, maybe that was him projecting. For all he knew, she could have looked like an L in a box. His phone buzzed. And again, and again. Vibrating in his pocket like so many crawling insects. His eyes opened, he pulled them shut again. In the darkness beneath his eyelids, he hoped he could escape them. He was frozen in terror. He wanted nothing more to do than to close his eyes and fade away. In the darkness, he saw an eye, a large eye, lashes, and all, looming larger and larger. It came close, and blinked. Everything faded to darkness. Then there was thunder. Angry, lightning, flashing, screaming, yawning.

Read More

The lock was heavy, rusted around the hole, burnt around the edges. Yet if you blew at it, the rust would fly away flapping its wings, complaining in a hoarse accent, and the lock would be silver and gold, gleaming, shimmering, shining. It had been around for millennia, it had been around before locks were first invented. This was the first, this was not the cause, but once it had entered existence, it entered the collective conscious of all living beings, all things must. From then on, it was only a short few decades before “the first lock” was invented. All things come in a circle. Nothing matters. Living in a simulation, different versions of the same singular consciousness: what does it matter which is true? Life is a series of endless accidents, all driving home the point that we are not in fact drivers of the seats of destiny, that Predestination has taken the wheel and as she looks back at us, cowering in our seats, she smiles her hideous smile, her black cloak shivering and sneering.

Read More

He lived in a cave under The Bridge. Every morning he would wake up to the water yapping nearby, smooth, silent, lovely. He would groan, and stretch his arms out, his knobby knees groaning under his weight, and the attempts to follow his brothers on their hunts from the night before. He would stare into the water, sparkling as it was, beautiful, washing his face. He would look at his face, and wish he were anyone else. He did not want to be confined to this body, lithe and tall, and graceful. He did not want to be attached to this face, acquine as it was. Sharp around the edges. He would stare at the water and wish he were anywhere else. Stare at the sun in the morning sky.

Read More

Thunder spewing in all directions, Zeus was roaring, raging from Olympus above. It would flash, sporadically lighting up the otherwise dark plain. Thick tufts of grass, bushes, no trees. Wide open plains. The air smelled burnt, cackles sizzling through it. Three flashes of lightning, one after the other, rapid succession lit up a series of footsteps. Impossibly large, improbable. Frightening. They made the grass seem the size of insects, and the bushels the height of grass, they trampled everything they left their mark in.

Read More

In the dead of night, a toy was floating down, a parachute action figure. Towards the open fields and farms that stretched for miles all around. In the dead of night, it was silent, blades of grass swaying in the wind, parachute softly floating down, paper falling towards earth. The dogs started to bark, they smelt intruder. The action figure became alert, its hands moving quickly efficiently. As it landed, the dogs were pouncing to meet it, and before it had alighted, gracefully like a ballerina, it had already thrown the first of the steaks. Still barking, still suspicious of the intruder, they expected the peace offering, then another one was thrown, and then a third, and then a fourth. They were sniffing the steaks, smelled so good.

Read More

The two faces lay, by the great big hall doors, one of them slowly swinging back and forth in the wind, it’s hinge groaning and creaking, as the wind roared and screamed. The air smelled dark and horror, not like the happy, bright, colorful lights the circus had promised when it came to town. One could almost hear the sounds of the circus, the elephants, trumpeting, the trumpets, neighing, the horses, chattering, the people. Could almost taste the excitement as people shuffled in, in this lazy town where nothing had happened. Could almost feel the rumbling the ground from the circus animals pacing and prowling, dancing, carousing, pillouting. Almost. Now darkness covered it, as it covered the whole town. A shadow spread across the sparse houses and huts, and it came from the circus tree. The tree they had planted when they came to town. The owner twirling his shining, oiled mustache as he smiled that trademark smile and said, it will even the scales of balance. Scales of balance.

Read More

The night was dark, a shooting star was slowly making its way through the black canvas that was the roof of the world. The air was cool, fresh, blowing, swaying in the empty alleyway. The alley was unnaturally large. Twice the side of most others. Garbage cans littered here and there. A repellent smell. Before the naked eye, a tall building appeared where the alley had been. A guy wearing an alien mask that looked like it originated in the dollar store was stowing a wand that seemed like it came from the same place in his jeans, as he walked limped towards the building. He was tall, his stride was not slow, his hands were too short. He walked inside, closed the door, and the building vanished. The little boy that had seen it, rubbed his eyes, standing on the side of the road, ice cream that he had dropped melting by the untied sneaker on his right foot. His brain would soon convince him that he had a momentary relapse of sanity. This event would trigger actual insanity down the years.

Read More

“Baa Baa Black Sheep have you any wool.

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.

One for the master,

Who died today.”

Read More

The scarab was colored bright green, and brown lines in the middle. Piercing orange eyes, staring at you with a malicious intelligence. It was her unlikely companion on this trip he was taking. This journey. Go south west and you will find what you seek, it had rasped. It never spoke after that. She would have liked to have pretended that it had not spoken. That she had been deluded. But strange things happened around her. Her brain would not let her forget. Every time she thought she might stand a chance, the memory of that day would come hurtling back, crystal clear. Like the eyes of the scarab in her pocket.

Read More

The key was small, almost looked as if it were painted in fake gold. It didn’t gleam, but that’s the thing about gold, it doesn’t, except for in movies. It was cold to the touch, vibrating a little, as if humming to the sound of its own music. He could smell desire coming out from it. He wondered what it tasted like, he had always wanted to taste gold. It was supposed to make you more potent. Right now, he didnt have the time. He was running as arrows were raining down all around him. Whizzing past, a few narrowly missing him, good thing the archers were such bad shots. The arrows though, would splice through him, if they made a mark. He had seen one cut through a huge stone as he ran past it. Ouch. He stubbed his foot on a stone, closed his eyes, shook his head, and kept running. He could see red in front of him, but in fear of seeing the crimson spurting out of him, he pushed past the pain and ran onwards.

Read More

The bridge was centuries old, stones lining it, imperfect synchronicity. The river had not faded or aged in many years. Water trickled sometimes, sometimes roaring as it gushed from north to south, the sun rising and setting with hues of red, orange, and yellow every day as it had for centuries. The air tasted of poppies and crimsons, and something salty. The grass on the east side was soft under the feet.

Read More