Smoke on the water, the Salamander burned, the Sea seethed and churned with its heat. “WOW!” Conrad said in awe, “I didn’t know that salamanders were so volatile when mixed with salt water.”
“Neither did I, Old Betsy’s never let me down yet.” Balthazar replied patting the steel ballista loaded on the bed of the GM truck fondly. “Well you learn something new daily doing this kind of work, or you don’t last for long.” He philosophized. “So, what’d you think of my job?” He asked as they watched the roiling bubbles subside.
“Totally awesome!” The eleven-year old Conrad enthused. “You’re the best, Gramps; I can’t wait to become a full-timer just like you!”
“It’ll come in time boy, it’ll come.” The Dragon Slayer and his grandson turned and began the long hike home.
Looking over my family’s photo albums my life’s course to trace, It seems likely that puberty did steal the smile from my face, Turned the joyful song in my heart into a slow, solemn dirge, Caused a break forcing my past and present selves to diverge, That fact and the utterance of four little words in a fateful phrase, Led to the cheerless display of emotions for the rest of my days, “You smile too much!” Someone told me, I can’t remember who, I used to sing, skip, and dance, now I feel just morose and blue, I wonder now, what sour pleasure was fed and did grow, From warping the soul of a child who was happy and let it show, Thus, in a dark cloud of gloom I move verily, Moreover, my somberness has become customary, The depths of pessimism I do plumb, In addition, my countenance is forever glum, Words fester wounds upon your soul until their poison you do finally lance, What then might I have been, if given an honest, impartial chance?
If Tyler weren’t already dead, I’d strangle him with his own earbud cords. Really, what kind of shmuck loads his “End of the World Playlist” with only five songs? Then to add insult to injury they are just dripping with irony; I loathe irony! There’s no way we’d have been friends in real life, from what I can tell of him Tyler was the athletic, brave, comedic, hell-raising, outdoorsy, popular type. I’m more of a couch potato, cowardly, straight man, square, indoors, loner type. I also had strong germ-a-phobic tendencies. My withdrawal from the world is what allowed me to survive; I wasn’t exposed to the virus. I stare from my precarious perch out over the town. The moon is rising and the Zombies are gathering. It was pure luck that I escaped that and the fact that Zombies have problems with stairs. They just don’t have the coordination to climb well. When I heard them breaking into my parent’s house I had lots of time to scramble out of my basement window. I was racing towards the corner of Main Street and Lake Avenue when I literally crashed into Tyler. We went sprawling on the asphalt. We joined forces and made for the shelter of the sturdiest building in town, the old brick post office. We holed –up there for three days before the Zombies battered their way in. Tyler, heroic to the end covered my retreat. I got away and sought the tallest structure in town, the water tower. Now, my lips are cracked and I’m parched from the lack of water. I run Tyler’s playlist one final time, their words echoing in my fevered brains. It’s time. I lift the heavy, sloshing ten-gallon jug of gasoline. I pour it over my head, blinking at the fumes. “Eat this you *************!” I yell and flick the Zippo lighter. I flaming I fall into the crowded Zombies. “Dance into the fire . . .; You don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction . . . ; .It’s where my demons hide, It’s where my demons . . . And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, And he’s watchin’ us all with the eye of the tiger . . . ; Within the sound of silence . . .”
“Demons” by Imagine Dragons
“Eve of Destruction” by Barry McGuire
“Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor
“The Sound of Silence” by Disturbed
“A View to a Kill” by Duran Duran
Inspired by A Writing Prompt a Day: Write a piece that includes a 5-song playlist
Every woman feels Her In our bodies and our blood That slow relentless, eternal tide That silent tug of gravity Lasting our life long Waxing, waning, waxing again She rules our daily routine Full, dark, full once more The seasons spin past Our satellite’s constant cycle. It influences our moods Always present in the back of our minds. Once we were chained to Her Eternal mystery unseen We worshiped Her Honored, and adored Her But Science has changed all that Streetlights pollute the night sky Dimming Her glory Pharmaceutical companies have broken the ties That bound us to her Man has measured and probed Her Walked on Her very surface, Revealing Her secrets. However, we Women know better Serenely undisturbed She continues her regular routine.
It began with the Riccis, Giuseppe stabbed Maria’s left hand with a salad fork, drawing blood. She retaliated by chucking her bowl of minestrone at his head; she missed her target and drenched her cousin Alessandro. He lobbed the bread bowl at her but it landed on his sister Rosa. They tossed pasta dripping with spaghetti sauce and heaved the large, heavy meatballs with deadly accuracy. The mayhem spread quickly. The Costas tossed the salads. The De Lucas flung the seafood. The Mancinis joined in and the silverware, flatware, and cups went flying. The Gallos hurled wine bottles and glasses splashing whites, roses, and reds all over. The Contis raided the kitchen, pots and pans went flinging ferociously. The Lomabardis pelted everyone impartially with the contents of the dessert tray. The Colombos went for the coffees. The Romanos launched the cheeses. It was Armageddon at Little Tony’s that day; everyone wound up covered by food.
In spired by A Writing Prompt a Day: Write a piece about an epic battle at a fast food restaurant.
Never again, to feel velvet padded paw
Tapping my hand requesting petting
Never again to hear that piercing wail
“Meow!” Demanding that he be fed
Never again to feel that small, taut, furry body
Curled up trustingly in my lap
Never again to have a little ‘helper’
When I am working on a craft project
Never again to know the gentle vibrations
That subdued, almost silent purr
Never again to stroke that silky fur
White-and-grey, Siamese patterned
Never again to be tripped up by him
Twining between my legs like a ribbon
Never again, to cuddle him tight
And to know his love.
Tears dripping down my face
I grieve for his absence.
There is a heavy stone
In the center of my heart.
In loving memory of Thomas Cat Selleck aka Selleck March 17, 2004 to August 2, 2018