Tag Archives: Fantasy

Mini-Poetry of Many Flavors


 

 

dress

Mischievous

Her dress unraveled

Falling slowly, suddenly,

clothed now only  in a grin

to mirror my own.

****************

tenor

Perspective

Circling,  ever circling

around and around

eyes shaded to what is, what was,

what might be.  When all

we needed do was to stop and leave

this fun house to truly see , and never

buy a ticket again.

**************

cookiecat

Cookie Cat

Oh fat cat, where

did that last cookie go?

Do you suppose

it went down

that big  mouse trap of a mouth?

I’m thinking so.

************

shadowplay

Shadow Play

Kill your shadow

before it kills you.

Your shadow doesn’t lead.

You lead you.

My Progress ?


Booklight

 

Thought I would update everyone on the progress on my Book I plan on putting out this year as a collection of  Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction all in one.

Shooting for a Lucky 13 stories to go into the Book… Hey!  Maybe that phrase could be part of the Title of the Book. Nah,  it’s probably been over done…I will have to think on it…. 🙂

Check out my progress so far in my writing on the various titles going in the book.

BTW I still need artists for various small sketches to donate an original drawing or artwork based a story or two. Nothing big. just some original stuff would be nice to give it a little pizzazz!

OKAY see below my list of stories either done or in the work.  WISH me luck!

Go HERE for Synopsis of some of the stories below:

Finished Stories

  1. The Summoning *
  2. Witch Hunt *
  3. Bits and Pieces*
  4. Flight Through the Forest
  5. Demon in the Details*
  6. Time Stopped
  7. Roadkill (Novella)
  8. Fire Extinguished

Stories at about 90% Done**

  1. Power in Me

Stories about 25% Done***

  1. The Well
  2. Sinkhole
  3. To Take a Life

Stories at intro to 10%

  1. Alphabet Killer
  2. Thousand Years
  3. Year of the Crow
  4. The Circuit Board

 

TheReader

 

 

 

What Lurks in me….


Lurking

 

Do you wish to know what lurks and crawls in this brain of mine? Do you wish to know the avenues it takes , the good and the bad, the beautiful, the bloody, the bombastic, and the golden moments that drown?  Well welcome I say with a  devilish grin wearing my suit of pure white for we are all aspects of all the shades that color the world.

YOU are not exempt.  Perhaps in your readings of me and the stories you hear  you will see a little into yourself, filtering out all the crap that seems that so often gets in the way of the truth that is you.

So read on, to three  of my eclectic samples not quite finished  in my future collection of the macabre, to the fun, to the poignant, to the mysterious “what if” of it all… 🙂

 

I ASK YOU, MY READERS, MY FOLLOWERS, TO PICK ONE OF THE THREE STORIES FOR ME TO FINISH BASED ON THE EXCERPT OF EACH BELOW.

****

 

#1 To Take a Life

 

Sebastian saw the woman sitting in her favorite spot yet again this early Saturday night. Always the same table, the one right at the edge of the dance floor and closest to the bar. She would start the night ordering drink after drink, usually a red wine sometimes a white and just stare ahead seemingly at nothing.

Hours would pass and the club would slowly fill with people and there she would be sitting. Alone. No man had ever approached her to ask her for a dance as she sat. Perhaps they were afraid to approach her, perhaps they thought she wanted to be left alone, perhaps they thought she was out of their league. Perhaps, the word, NO, was already written on her face before they ever would have approached to pose the question in the first place.

Sebastian knew secretly, if they had asked, she probably would have said yes to every one of them. But they never had. So she would sit andvampire watch them all dance from her place at the table. Watch, as the men and women moved on the floor to the seductive beat which pulsed and coursed through the club and bodies wanting to find release from the week’s drudgery called life. Sebastian knew their every whim, their every desire as he always did. They were an open book to him. All you had to do was listen.

This night however he only had ears for the woman who had come here every Saturday night for the last three weeks. Her name was Ms. Evelyn Greer , a pale face contrasted with short shoulder length dark auburn hair, green almond shaped eyes, and full red lips. If she were to ever break a smile he was sure it would have been stunning. A beauty of a woman, majestic in a certain way she held her self. But there was a dullness to her, muted was the word that came to mind, like a dimmer switch to a light turned way down low.

She was to be his tonight. She had marked been many nights ago. She was the one and she had only but to ask him to end her.

 

 

#2 From a Dark Place

 

Joseph carefully placed the five white candles he had just purchased into the big brown suitcase amidst the other items he had already collected. He hands went to close the suitcase but instead they caressed a black leather bound book which lay inside. His eyes went wide and his pupils dilated ever so slightly as he stared at it. He traced the raised symbol on its cover emblazoned in red with his index finger. His finger ran along the entire perimeter of the symbol at all its five points where the continuous line was traced. The symbol was five lines in the form of a star where each point touched the raised circle which surrounded it,  what a lovely symbol he mused. Could there be anything more perfect he wondered. A sly smile came to his lips because for all his studies he new the true power of that symbol while others only thought they knew. He had become an adept at the mysteries of it.

“Joseph!” a woman’s voice called to him in a wail from somewhere downstairs in the house.

“Joseph, what the hell are you doing? Spaghettis all done! Christ on a crutch, move your ass!” she yelled again. Joseph could almost picture the spit flying from her mouth as she yelled at him. Fucking fat cow. He would be glad when he was done with her. Joseph couldn’tpentagram remember choosing such a bitch of a woman for a wife but he must have, for she lived in his home and occasionally wanted to have sex because of that damn ring on her finger and his own. The weight of the ring seemed to increase more everyday. He wanted to stuff it down her damn throat. It was maddening. No more, no fucking more. Tomorrow, Joseph’s life was about to change.

“Joseph!” she wailed again.

Joseph slammed the suitcase shut, secured the latches and locked them by rotating the combination on each with his thumbs all at once.

“Coming Elizabeth!…..you bitch.” Joseph said the last to himself in a whisper as he tucked the suitcase deep up under his side of the bed and quickly got up to go downstairs for dinner. He would suffer through it with the heifer just for one more night. Spaghetti was his favorite he thought idly to himself.

 

#3 The Power In Me

 

Three ping pong balls revolved in midair, each one following the other in a tight circle as they flew.

“I shouldn’t be able to be doing this Carl!” she yelled at the bald little man, sitting across the table from her in the kitchen of her house. Carl was wearing a smug little grin on his face that annoyed the hell out of her. He was always full of himself, today more than usual. He knew something he wasn’t telling her. Shit! She was losing her concentration. One of the balls slipped out of its rotation and fell.

“True and not true,” he replied back glibly to her, as he deftly caught the fallen ball with his left hand inches before it hit the table.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her eyes staring ahead at the two remaining balls still rotating in front of her. She thought of a figure eight, and immediately the balls begin to swirl in that configuration. It was equally cool and frightening at the same time, she thought, but Carl didn’t have to know that.

“Angela, you have taken to this extremely well. It seems you are a natural. I have to give our co-workers credit. They were betting you would do well the first time right out the gate. Not many can pull off even one ball this quickly, let alone three. Guess I will have to pay up when I get back to the office.” Carl chuckled to himself, rolling the little white ball he had caught, back and forth between his hands on the dining room table still smiling at her smugly.

Angela took her eyes from the two remaining balls which spun and looked directly at Carl.

“You mean there are others who can do this? Out with it Carl, I’m sick of the games. You’ve been playing them too long, first with my husband now with me. Be straight for once, or for god sakes I’ll shove these balls down your goddamn throat.”

Carl’s smiled slipped a little her under dark stare. Carl involuntarily swallowed when he suddenly realized the balls were still continuing to spin in their figure eight pattern without her looking at them. Damn, she is good, he thought. But she didn’t have to know that; she was arrogant enough as it was. A lot like him more or less, he thought, but still soft.

“Well.” Angela said to him, more of a command than a question.

Carl ignored her tone. “You remember that project three years ago that kept Scott away so many hours at night?”

She remembered all too well, the late nights, and all the arguments that followed, telling her he couldn’t discuss his work with her because she didn’t have the clearance. It still rankled her a little still to this day. Angela only nodded as she looked at him as the balls continued to spin, so Clark continued.

“We had found something amazing. To be more exact it found us. One of the lab geeks directed to synthesize some of the proteins from a plant brought back from Brazil accidentally combined two cultures in the synthesis we were working on with the lot. The other plant was from an older expedition we had done years ago in the Congo in Africa. Scott himself had pulled it from the incubator a few days later. Lot forty-two.”

Angela noticed Carl’s eyes dilating as his hand gestures became more animated as he spoke. This disturbed her for some reason and she didn’t know why.

“Oh, the things Lot Forty-two revealed to us Angela!” Carl found it hard to contain himself as he talked.

“We didn’t know how much until we began the human trials. You did not know this, but Scott your husband, was one of the first volunteers. The committee had been paranoid of it getting out to the general public so everything was done in house; very hush, hush.”

“I am sorry to say this Angela, but he was a fool.” Carl said flatly to her from across the table.

Angela’s eyes suddenly flared from a dull to electric green.

An invisible force compressed against Carl’s chest, to send him flying and to go slamming into the wall behind him. Plaster crumbled around his head and tumbled off his nice black suit coat he wore.

Now I am going to have to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow, Carl thought idly….

Powerinme

 

 

 

 

Ship in a Bottle


ShipBottle

 

Ship in a Bottle~

A sailing we will go!

A sailing we will go!

But on the currents we shall float

on a ship in a bottle in a big row boat.

The wind cannot touch our sails,

only our faces as we sit,

atop the glass

on a encased little wooden ship.

Our phonograph shall play at the stern

pushing us melodiously along

as we sit on the bow of the

bottle as the clouds pass low.

The little sailor man below, dressed so primly

but with his big straw hat to shade the sun,

 shall keep a firm grip on the

tiller to steer our unknown path

to the unknown.

And I and my friend, shall munch

on little sandwiches come lunch

and just enjoy the day

as it passes by,  spying our fancy friends

in their hot air balloons in the distance.

As we sit on our  ship in a bottle in a big row boat.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

The Goblin King Sleeps


GoblinKing

 

The Goblin King Sleeps~

 

In an oubliette deep

does a dank dungeon keep

the Goblin King.

Shattered, weary,

heartbroken,

at a loss to life he sought

and thought would crawl on forever

in a true vanity of his own design.

Yet, a silver lining

does shine on the pitted walls

which confine this man.

For he made a difference while out

in the world of light.

He ravaged, and wrought, bringing knees

to bend to touch the ground

and they fought, found courage,

bringing a change to the world each

in their way, good or bad

in the eyes of men

he brought a change,

and a reckoning was finally

consummated.

Now, he can finally sleepOubliette

this proud King.

And finally escape his

dungeon deep.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

The Five Tenets of the Sword – A Poem


 

SwordA

 

 

The Five Tenets of the Sword~

 

Strength~

Once light as a dead bird’s body in my hands,

this weapon now weighs more than the collective souls

of a million men,

sweat glistens on  muscled forearms strained

drained,

needles in legs drive deep,

yet I stand.

Conditioned for this in every cord, tendon, and bone

that runs through.

 

Skill~

Hours upon hours,  Days upon days,

Years to master myself,  then years to follow

to master this weapon.

The placement of the foot just so,  hands balanced

sword poised at the perfect angle.

Advance, retreat,  first position, second position

third, and on and on and on,

an endless dance until the music stops

with a myriad of outcomes at its end,

and I know every step in the

countless tangle of each encounter.

 

Instinct~

I am steadfast in my defense and attack

yet, I let the mind drift into that nether

region between thought and the what-if.

Never thinking I  know my  opponent

for he will do what I  least expect and I

must expect the least expected in the blink

of an eye, for it could be my eye that is lost.

Ignore your sixth sense at the cost that

only fools pay when they are finally put to

rest in a shallow lonely grave.

 

Courage~

My line of sight  travels down my sword

to an opponent that only wishes me a quick death

I see all my years to come, laid out bare for

him to snatch from me, like a breath from

a baby as he sleeps deep.

I am no newborn! Swaddled and waiting.

But born to this moment in time.

So come. Come!

And I will share you a secret

as I whisper your own death in your

ears.

 

Will~

The hardest of the tenets to maintain,

for they drive all the rest in me.

Fail this one and I fail them all.

Be steadfast you ask of your soul,

Be steadfast you implore of  your heart.

Be steadfast you command of your mind.

Find a focus to compel the body forward.

Find a focus to awake each day.

Find a focus to believe in you

when no one else ever will.

Find that will

Simply find it

For there can be no other way.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Prince of Ravens


Prince of Ravens~

 

Brown eyes
wolfish grin

With a sword well
used and dangerous
once unsheathed
and finally released.

Shall we dance?

In a ballroom or in
bed.
For both skills come
naturally
to the Prince.
Once he takes you in hand.MatrimCauthon

Dark, and darker
as the lights are dimmed
to hide what some
others call sins.

The ravens fly high
over castle keep
ever watchful
as their prince
delves deep.

Into the many mysteries
of the mind
found between her
legs and more.

What chaos
What wonder.

What beauty will he finally find
In himself

When the dance is done.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

The Crow Waits ~


crowwaits

The Crow Waits~

I see it on high sitting in a tree, a Crow amongst the sparse fall leaves
that yet hang to the branches, even though winter fast approaches,
no one told them it seems that they are dead and should already be on their way.

The crow with its pitted black eyes knows me it seems, for it calls my name
across the wind while I languish on the ground in my own blood which spills
from my body and forms around me like a macabre picture frame.

Funny thing, how the crow knows my name, a simple carrion bird waiting for
this warrior’s death so it can pick me clean and leave nothing but my bleached bones,
rusted armor, and a forgotten sword as my only legacy.

Long has the battle been gone from this place I now rest in, the victors have gutted me
like a fish on a stone and left me to the flies and the maggots to fester inside.

But yet shall I live, ever stubborn to die and only the Crow truly knows why.
I hear it laughing at me, calling me a fool for an adventure I sought full of folly
with only death to be met at its end.

It has seen many a fool I am sure and feasted contently before the sun has set.
But still I live! You will not have me fool or not!

So sit your perch and wait for you shall not have me this day or the next,
for even if I should pass these earthly bounds so shall my shade pick up
my blade and strike you down!

The sun has set and the night grows cold, the crow sits in his tree and
waits;  for it has seen many a warrior born and bred and knows full well their
strength, courage and the valor which fills their head, but it knows when dead is dead

by Philip Wardlow

 

 

 

 

Cracks and Crevasses – A short little horror story


 

cracky

 

 

Her leaving was quite sudden.  Her warmth will be missed,  but  my love that I had known for these many years  turned out to be simply a bitch.

Now I sit in this house we once shared…its a big bold hold of a house, with cracks in the walls and crevices in the floor boards that lead to the in between spaces and nowhere.

I would have fixed them all, all those broken pieces left unattended over the years, but now what’s the use.  There really is no call to repair something that only brought me to despair.

Never good enough.  “A hole in the wall, ” was my only gift to her,  she had ever said.

Now gone.

Then they began to come.

Out of all the those holes and cracks they seeped.

The Monsters liked to crawl  from where they laid hidden and nip at me when I turned away.  They are an annoyance, their pestering, their little pains. I have gotten scratched on many a occasion,  a bite mark or two when ever deep asleep or not quite quick enough on my feet at night.

I felt them grinning there in the dark.  I couldn’t  see them in the cold dead spaces of the room as they hid but I knew there was  an upturned lip or a crinkling of the eyes. I felt them there drinking me in.

I tried not to think about  them as I drove to work,  or as I sat at my desk, or went to the bathroom or ate my lunch in the  breakroom. Sometimes, I even thought one or two had hidden in the trunk of my car and came to work with me.  For I felt their presence always….

Its was oppressive.

It hadn’t  always been like this. Once I had been free. No monster nipped, scratched or bit.  For they didn’t exist in my home.  Back then, there were no shadows to hide them. No cold spaces to give them comfort.

I am not sure how they found me. For I sure as hell didn’t let them in. I never asked them to come into my home.  I hate them. All of them and they hate me.

There are so many,   skinny ones, fat ones, ugly ones,  ugly skinny ones, ugly fat ones,  foul smelly ones, red eyed, green eyed, black eyed, no-eyed even. So, so many.

I keep them back.  Even though there are many, they are not very brave, not at all. They may grin from the dark but they cower. They are afraid of me in some  small way.  I have yet to figure out why.

I know they don’t like my boot when I give one or two of them a good kick.  Oh no, they don’t like the boot, not at all. Then I grin back at them and I sense them cowering more.

They are weak little Monsters and I have my big black steel toed boots to keep them at bay. I wear them all the time even in bed. Not in the shower though. That would be silly. I lock the bathroom door tight, remove my boots in a flourish, still laced but loose, enough to slip back on in a flash.

Naked, I jump in the shower, scrub scrub scrub, then out in a moment between a heartbeat  of their indecision to possibly break down the door.  I scramble for my towel, dry off and put on my clothes for the next day, slip into my boots and crawl into bed.

They are not as clever as me. Not by far you see.

Until I wake up and find my legs secured, and tied tightly  to the bed .

Hmmm…my arms won’t move… they seem to be tied at my sides as well. I am all snug, snug, snug

They all are there, perched on my footboard.  Waiting for me to wake up this whole time. They just stare at me, colored eyes shining and no eyes and lifeless and all.

Why do they wait?

Why don’t they  rent, why don’t they tear and rip and claw?

A taloned appendage slips off my  boots and with a clunk they both hit the bedroom floor.

Then the grins began. This time I can see them.  Some toothless, or black and decayed as death,

some mouths with lolling tongues licking lips which drip, milk white saliva which issue a delicate hiss

upon my sheets.

They creep as one …like a low rolling wave they come. Up my body, over my feet, calves and knees…blood seeps, staining the white bed red.

Thighs are on fire as they continue to eat and eat…

All I can do is look on…pain, oh the overwhelming pain, drowns me as the wave of teeth and claws and malice munches me, a wide awake nightmare…of my Monsters finally taking their due.

Darkness falls complete as my eyes are plucked and eaten…how is it that I still live?

My mad mind is all that remains intact.

Until they reach my brains for their final snack.

My mind settles….then drifts…the pain is gone and  I meander in a pool of blood red mist…

Images come,  blurred and dim,  a focus , a purpose coalesces ….

A man sleeps before me angry and mean, fear filled and hopeless as I sit looking through a lit crack into his room and give him a little grin.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Warrior Woman – A Poem


WarriorWoman

 

Warrior Woman ~

Ah yes, she be a beauty…

never a finer woman did grace the land.

From the tip of the toes to the top of that pretty little head.

Ah yes, she be beautiful indeed.

But you would be mistaken my good sir at trying to take advantage of one such as her

whether in  body, mind or soul,  as she would send all three of yours  straight to hell for the

devil to collect his due.

Flaming  red be the color of her hair,   burning much like her heart that beats in a warm bosom that knows no peace, nor solace in the silence between the madness that is always sure to come after.

Every turn of her blade is poetry…every dance a death sentence to her partner.

Care to be clever, to compel her to be contrite,  or woo her with wicked words

and she shall simply cut your tongue out.

Yet, she hopes, endures for that day,  when a compliment to her nature crosses her well worn path, fights through all her misgivings,  deep protected fears, and wrestles her to the ground, flings her blade from her hand and drives the darkness away.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015