Sylphiel

Dearest Daddy, donor of life in the ground so hard and cold. Watch your children live without you as they have always done. You are the same in death, in life, never a father when needed, but forever remembered as Daddy.

We noticed that just before Christmas he had not been going to work. We thought it nothing, the slacker always felt himself too princely for a menial task as providing for his family. It was also around this time that the great beast within him snarled ferociously whenever we'd so much as step on a creaky, old board. Momma finally got him to see a doctor after finding the he had only been growling like a wounded animal. The doctor told my parents that an all-consuming parasite had taken up residence in my father's lungs. The diagnosis was bleak for the cancer was set to run its course in half to a full flip of the calendar. A week after the

I stumble across a shell On my journey through the sand, Its sandy hue a camouflage I curse as it stabs my toe. I take the shell back to my towel, Where I open a bag of chips It strikes me then that the shell is as Ridged as my ruffled snack. I lay back on my towel Holding the shell close to my face Inspecting it closer as a breeze drifts by Smells like the musty tome within my bag. The book I read is fantasy Mythical creatures abound It occurs to me then that the shell Is the horn of a magical, snowy, unicorn. Further on my book does read Of heroic adventure abroad That is when the shell is as The spire of an ancient cast

               That night was so ravaged by storms that I would have sworn that Zeus himself was throwing down all the thunderbolts that he had on Mt. Olympus.  I had never seen the sky so alight at night, even though I lived in the city.  And as fascinated as I was by the storms, I could help but whimper and snuggle further into my large acrylic blanket; the only consoling thing I could find because the storm had delayed my family's return for a while.               I hated being in the house all by myself.  I kept being reminded of every horror movie that I had ever seen.  How come the cliché of all those movies had to be that the killer

Escaping the coma Four years have passed The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad Revenge my all-consuming thought My legs linger in entropy Escaping the coma "Wiggle your big toe," my mind screams Thirteen hours later I stand To seek out the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad O-Ren Ishii, Yakuza Queen My Honsou steel took your head Escaping the coma Bill has it comin' The planned attack Of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad I will kill them all for their betrayal, The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad My hands stained by their dripping blood Escaping the coma

                I felt the presence of someone standing in the doorway of my room.  They were soon joined by someone else who spoke of waking me up.  That would be my uncle, God forbid that I should be able to sleep for a little while longer.  "No, let her sleep," came the voice of reason from my aunt, "she's had a hard past few days."                I stirred slightly, covering the side of my face with my thick, fuzzy blanket as I turned to face the way and lay on my side.  Thankfully, this produced the desired effect; they left my door way out of fear of waking me.  Too bad I was already awake, I had been for hours.  In the darkness that

            It was a quiet night at the tavern that stood so close to the forest that it was primarily that place where warriors, assassins, and cutthroats gathered.  But after my first visit here, it quickly became my home away from home in the evenings; me, Mei Starrhaven one of the high priestesses from the Temple of Rai.  Now, I know what you're thinking, what's a sweet, innocent, white mage of a priestess doing consorting with these villains?  Well, that's easy, the food is marvelous and the company isn't all evil.               "Earth to Mei!  Come in please!"               "Huh?  Oh, hi, Song!"  I smiled happily as my friend took h

Dearest Daddy Donor of life Watch your children Live without you As they have always done. Lord of the manor The remote as your scepter Barking out your princely orders, Deserting your kingdom, Destroying hopes and dreams. You are the same In death, in life, Never a father when needed, But forever remembered As Daddy.

Befudling shadow. Tricking my sight; Visions I want to see They don't exist. Never have. Never will.

Shell, your color betrays you. Brown as honey dripping from a freshly plucked comb of a nest of bees. Sprial, you shape the nest thrums daily commuters buzzing busy too involved to notice the spring breeze which offers to take away the stale smell like a winter that has lingered, blustered for far too long. Instead move along smoothly, avoid going the wrong way that feels like falling down the stairs in the dark at whose threshold begins a new way of thinking.