A darker tone
A darker cast
He wrapped himself within one
As if a cloak
An broken bone
A broken past
From such he could not run
The voices spoke
A whispered moan
Rest that would last
His friends began to shun
In his mind the knives did poke
Life was on loan
He but a ghast
Reasons left were none
That’s when his mind, it broke
My tea is cold
but that’s okay
I tend to like it fine this way
Same with coffee
Same with milk
Down the throat, smooth as silk
The night is cold
I doze as if were dead
Breeze wafts down ‘pon my head
Her heart was cold
Always on the mend
There was no illusion her love was pretend
Blue corduroy suit
A dish of fruit
Across the table
Sat she, above his station
A crimson gown
A plate of cheese
Across the table
Sat he, last minute bastion
A motley pair
A nervous meal
And older brother outside
They sat, few words, smiles and chat
Friends since birth
A world of memories
One last night
They paid, they left, time a gnat
In the melted chocolate night
Sat the angry woman
Her husband late she stewed
And in the sweaty bar cross town
Swore the drunken man
No desire remained, he sank
Gravel crunched and dust rose as the small Toyota, thumping, indiscernible club-tunes pulsing through the windows, ground to a halt at the edge of the road. A cloud of dust rose, hung above and around the car briefly, then dissipated with the wind. A raven, frightened by the commotion flew off croaking a warning to its comrades.
“Are you ready my brothers?” A voice from within, high pitched, full of fury, emanated from the partially open window as the music was briefly turned down.
A chorus of muffled voices yelled as one “Yes brother!” as the window behind the driver also opened, and two large paper bags were tossed out onto the ground. Paper cups, wrappers and cardboard French fry sleeves spilled out and were as well taken away by the wind.
“Does anyone have to pee?” the voice asked?
Muffled responses to the contrary were emitted, this time, not as one.
“Good. We are on time then. Are you ready to give your lives for the cause?”
“Then open windows, unlock doors and prepare to teach these dirtbags a thing or two!”
The car started again and back up slowly about one hundred feet from the direction it came. It stopped and after a few tense moments of decisive channel changing, a suitable thumping hip hip tune was selected. The raven and three of his friends made nervous sounds to one another as they watched from afar on top of a billboard advertising a spring special at In and Out burger outlets. With a tossing of gravel, the car began to accelerate. At the point where it had previously stopped, it turned sharply to the left and continued to accelerate as it headed through the sunset pulloff, past the wooden stage area then over the adjacent cliff where a section of guard rail had be removed for repairs. Yellow caution tape and three small orange pylons offered no resistance, flying into the sky along with the car as it shot at full speed into the air, over the cliff.
Doors opened and surprisingly quickly, four very large men exited as the car nosedived downward almost three thousand feet below. They spread their arms and legs, brilliant pink (oversized) winguits lifting them, causing them to become human airfoils. They screamed loudly as they rocketed toward the desert below.
At a speed of three hundred and forty (plus change) metres per second, the sound of the exploding car as it struck the rocky foot of the cliff below the sunset lookout took a little under three seconds to reach the wedding guests. Ten seconds later, the objects in the sky flying toward the wedding could be resolved as human. Less than two seconds later, four bright pink clad screaming men, flying two hundred kilometers per hour slammed into the fit, buff seated guests from behind, the minster (in shorts and a tank top), the bride (mini-skirt, legs like steel) and the steam line which today offered a full assortment of low calorie high protein dishes. Flames erupted from the propane heaters setting the tentage alight, bodies flew in all directions and more screaming filled the desert.
The ravens took flight loudly, croaking an invitation to others and drawing the attention of local buzzards.
The first attack of the Obesist Liberation Army was a messy, hot, success.
I usually cringe when someone says “you’ll enjoy this book, it’s weird”. This usually comes from well meaning friends who know of my affinity for Lovecraft and other “weird fiction”. What they don’t know is that I am terribly picky about what I will and will not read and more often than not, a recommended book ends up unfinished. I have this little rule you see.. if I am not “into” a novel by the mid-way point, I put it away and most usually never return to it. Life is short, I will not waste valuable reading time on something merely because someone else enjoyed it.
The Deep by Nick Cutter was not a put aside at or before the half way point. The Deep is true to form, traditional, thoroughly enjoyable if not a tad disturbing at times (in a good way) weird fiction. I loved it.
It has been reviewed elsewhere and I will not summarize it here because frankly even giving away as much as is on the description on the cover is more than you should be allowed. Leave it to say it is damn good. It is scary. It will give you the willies and will make you jump when you hear a noise behind you in the basement after you shut off the light.
I give it 4.5 out of 5.0.
(and I cannot even tell you the MINOR small petite little thing I wish had been explained a bit further because even giving you that may ruin the surprise for you).
Buy this book, read it exclusively at night, preferably by candle light near water.
The Thursday is the New Friday and Therefore GOOD Playlist: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9yjLDGLPHr2sMT–yKlaF8qcVy6mMJtV
Refracted images of you and I
Viewed by the morning
Refracted images of the morning
Viewed by you and I
Reflection of days gone by
And days to come
Innumerable now but fewer than we wish
Available to you and I
So, I drafted a first go at a game you can play In teleconferences. Hat tip to MBA Jargon Watch for the definitions.
Essentially, everyone playing prints out a copy if first page. While others talk, you listen for the written catchphrases. Hear one? Checkmark. As soon as you get ten, you say “bingo” at an appropriate time during the telecon (or just yell it out if you are brave). When you do, you get one point. Person with most points at end of telecon wins.