Creative Beings – Part 2

Ral kept his face-plate up, allowing the cool breeze to pull the sweat from his too young face.  His enemies must have thought him mad.  Perhaps they were right.

Ribs crunched beneath breastplate, screams of the dying echoed across the field filling Ral’s ears with sweet music.  Music that he made, with the help of the other soldiers of course, but they were secondary.  He was the artist, the choreographer that put it all together and made art.

A maniacal grin split Ral’s face as he pulled his shield back from the destroyed foe, only to sweep at the man with his longsword, taking the stunned, stumbling, faceless man just beneath the helm.

Continue reading

Troubles in Pleasantville

Tess pulled her hair up, exposing the solar system adorning her neck.  It was her favorite tattoo and fitting for her as it reflected the origin of her hippy parent’s given name, Planetes.  The greek for planets, meaning wanderer.  The word had described her parents perfectly.  She wasn’t so sure that it fit her.

A mix of dirt and small gravel rock crunched a rhythm  beneath her feet as she ran down the two lane road and past a newly sprouted corn field, before turning down a dusty dirt path strewn with brown pine needles.  A mile in, she found her stride and her breathing matched up as she watched the evening sun sink into the forest before her.  Not everything in Pleasantville was perfect, but this was.  This was her sanctuary.  The peace of an evening trail run.  Now she wondered if that had changed.  Had she lost that peace?

Continue reading

Creative Beings

“At our core, we are all creative beings.  Whether or not you can see it now, is irrelevant.  You will see it, as all do, eventually.”

The words came back to Ral at the strangest times.  They would often snap him to attention, to a greater perception of himself.  At those times, he would travel back and hear the words new again, as if they had been spoken only moments ago.

Continue reading

The Break-up

“So that’s  it then?”

Bob’s voice was soft to the point of  timidity.  That irritated Sharon more than anything.  A man like Bob, a big, broad, hulk of a man, should not sound timid.  Not when faced with certain death and definitely not when faced with a hundred pound, goth girl who just wanted him to go away.

“Yeah, that’s it.  I can’t take it anymore.  And don’t look at me like that.  You had to know this was coming.  Even you’re not that dumb.”

Continue reading