WWW #40 – Robots – Text #1

Copper Limbs

 

Walking towards you I feel

Like a robot chained in pain

Following a path programmed

For my copper limbs to climb

 

Walking towards you I feel

Like a fallen queen who lost

The battle for her own heart

Voiceless tower with no sound

And Now

You’re tearing me apart.

A rabid dog

Lashing on its bone.

Our love

Our love is gone

Featured Challenge #13 – Death – Text#2

Unrest 

by B. 

Flapping wings fluttering about
Blackcurrant and raspberry bushes
Interwoven with weeds

Teeny-tiny ants treading around laid down cover,
Climbing on limbs
Human presence disturbed by Nature’s touch

Beautiful chaos
Endless strife
Humans invading
Nature gaining ground
Humans pushing back

WWW #38 – Escape – Text#3

Pace
by B. 

I’m giving you space,
But you are taking so much,
It feels like escape.

Featured Challenge #27 – Ghosts – Text #1

Ghosts

by Garry Vakarian

Department of Public Security, Homeland Surveillance Bureau.

MEMO 0025310117

Erased agents, a.ka Ghosts

A ghost is somebody or something that can move around and interact without being seen. However it can also be someone so insignificant to others that his/her actions go unnoticed. Both types are useful in our line of work, since they accomplish their task without public or media attention. In the bureau we call them Shadows rather than the official Erased Agent designation. The first kind uses it [the ability of being a ghost] to its advantage while the other is literally one, leaving nothing but an impression of déjà vu in people’s minds.

WWW #38 – Escape – Text #2

Motion Still 

by B.

 

Bodies asking and answering each other’s moves.

Heat rising, skins gently brushing, pressing.

Weightless figure floating, adjusting.

Hearts racing, skipping, aroused.

 

Muscles tensing and relaxing.

Gentle powerful crush,

Soft caress turns

 

Earthquakes.

WWW #35 – Slipped – Text #2

Slipped
by B. 

He was observing her. She was standing there preparing their supper, with the same enthusiasm she always applied to her daily tasks. Smooth and sculptural, grounded yet dreamy, soft and surprising. He knew he loved her still.

She looked unchanged. So unaware. How could she not notice the tension that was rising within him? He thought she knew him better than that, did she not? It was burning at his core now. He would not be able to hold it in much longer. Yet she was there, going about cheerfully. Singing softly. Improvising on the acoustic tune that was playing on the stereo. It felt as if she were a vision. She had come to visit him from their past. Transported. Transposed. Unaffected.

In his heart though, it felt like everything had changed. He felt heavy. Burdened. He wished he could just erase from his mind, what had happened last night. How useless! He could not even blame it on alcohol. He would not. He remembered everything. He was conscious of everything. He had felt everything. He was in control. He could still sense that foreign lingering touch on his skin. That scent. He forced himself to chase that residual image from his conscious mind.

He ought it to her, to them, to keep away from it.

He let his eyes wander over her body.

WWW #34 – A Mosaic – Text #2

Zillij*

by Hailie Andersen

He was working the clay, soaking it in water, making it soft. Preparing the base he would filter by hand. He knew his project would take months, but he had to do it. Surprise her. Win her father over. He had borrowed the supplies and the tools from his uncle, a maâlem**, who worked in a zillij factory in Fez.

WWW #38 – Escape – Text #1

Red Ocean

by B. 

She was standing alone
Thinking about her boy at home
Assembling in her mind
A list of groceries
She could not afford to buy.

Sitting by the window,

He takes a deep breath,

Closes his eyes and boom!

He is at the station,

Hopping on a train.

 

His destination takes

But a second to reach.

He is now sitting in the sand,

Listening to the waves,

Breathing in the ocean.

 

She comes in.

 

He was waiting for her.

WWW#33 – Deleted / Erased – Text #2

Purpose

by Hailie Andersen

Plodding down his daily route, he could feel the heaviness of boredom and solitude weighing on his limbs. Lately he had been contemplating his life and wondering how he had gotten there. Comparing his current situation to what his younger-self had projected his future could look like ten years ago. There was a world between there and then. Job – check. House – mmm… he owned a flat… semi-check. Athletic build – he exercised but was no model… semi-check again. Family – alien concept he still desired, but did not seem to have in him to construct. Wife – no girlfriend in ages. Marriage – felt more and more like a never-happening tale.

***

Keys turned in the lock. He walked in, and shed his coat and jacket in the lobby. Then he eyed his flat. Soulless, nude space, open lines, cold, empty walls, uplifted only by the view, and the grey light filtering through the high windows. The absence of decor mirrored the void he felt biting at his core. He needed something to counter its grasp, replace it with meaning, or deflect it with a placebo blend.

Instinctively, he sat down on his couch and switched on the TV. Hoping to be filled by others’ stories. Zapped from one channel to the next. Found nothing to his taste. He breathed in. The atmosphere was warm. Maybe too warm. He needed air. Fresh air. He got up, slid the glass door, and walked out on his balcony.

Dressed only in his classic, matt, silk shirt, he braved the negative temperature, resolutely. He looked out over the lake and to the horizon. He needed to feel something. Gushes of frozen winter wind slapped repeatedly at his skin. He could sense his body shrink and shiver in the cold. Still he stood there. Unwavering soul lost in his thoughts. His perspective felt blurred. He needed focus.

***

Johan knew he needed to act – turn his ways around, because they were not working. If he stayed there watching his life pass him by, he was aware he would disappear. Shrink into oblivion. Be deleted, erased. Leave nothing behind him upon his passing. Drown into the mass of loners out there.

WWW#27 – Success – Text #2

Talaria*

by Hailie Andersen

That was the second time, Timothy walked in this place. It was a case of love at first sight between the man and this hotel. He had not needed many visits to sign the deeds. Just one look and he was all in. That did not happen to him very often, so he had just indulged in the extravagant impulsion.