Close-at-hand star bringing life-granting light. Warm rays soaked up by the Earth – growing plants. Mysterious sights to deep sea creatures. Wondrous phenomenon: total eclipse.   Both helpful and harmful; cancer bringer. Protection a must on hot summer days. Ceaselessly marking time’s gradual march. Turning seasons: forever constant friend.

“We shouldn’t be here…” She mutters, shaking her head. Row upon row of bunkbeds stare back at her, their only occupants layers of dust and dead-eyed dolls. The metal bars groan in protest as she presses against them, testing their weight. The sound sends a shiver down her spine, like nails on a chalkboard.   You couldn’t pay me to stay here, she decides. No amount of money could quell the crawling sensation spreading over her skin.   “We’re fine. They haven’t run any tests in like… forty years. They won’t suddenly start again now.” One of her companions assures her in what is a less-than-convincing tone. He sidles farther back amongst the beds, grasping one of the dolls by its plastic arm. “Did kids really play with these? They’re creepy…”   “This whole place is creepy!” Another of their group chimes in. “I’m with Christy; we shouldn’t be here.”   “Aw, but we agreed we would go exploring…” The final member speaks up. “We all wanted an adventure, and this is the best place within driving distance.”   “But the fences-” Christy starts.   “Those fences have been up since the testing.” The young man tosses the doll onto the bed, causing his companions to jump at the racket. “I heard from one of the people who worked here back then. They put the fences up well before testing to keep people out of the area. After the testing, they never bothered to take it down. Why take it down and risk lawsuits of people who get injured, right?” His laugh is cool, almost cruel, and it echoes eerily through the deserted building.   “Do you think people died here?” The question comes out as barely more than a whisper.   “Don’t be silly, Fran.” The last member to speak admonishes her. “The military’d never get away with testing weapons on living people. Someone would find out. Expose them. It’d be a whole thing.”   “Yeah. I suppose you’re right, Jake…” She replies, though the furrowing of her brow suggests that she doesn’t believe her own words.   “C’mon! Let’s take a picture in this creepy orphanage.” The man that handled the doll pulls out his cellphone as his companions clamber closer. “For memories and proof!”   As he presses the shutter button on his phone, a grating siren calls out among the abandoned buildings. Over its undulating call, a robotic female voice chimes: 
 
TESTING SHALL BEGIN IN T MINUS 10 SECONDS.     The companions’ faces pale. The cellphone tumbles to the floor, forgotten.   “Tom, you said there was no more testing!” Christy cries out, grabbing his arm.   “There wasn’t supposed to be… It’s abandoned…” He stares out the window of the small room, but he doesn’t move.   “Just run!” Fran gasps and the three of them take off through the door, leaving Tom where he stands.   As their feet carry them through the narrow passages between buildings, the female voice continues to call out her countdown. The fence blooms into sight just a short way in front of them, but before they can clear the open space to it, the sound of an explosion rings out behind them.   The ensuing roar and shockwave knock them to the ground. Blood trickles from their ears and noses, and none of the three rises to their feet. None of the adventurers see the mushroom-shaped cloud billowing behind them from the rubble that was the buildings.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Under sand, cool and fresh. Over sand, burning many feet. Scurry fast – night is best.   Daytime heat beats down. Cool nighttime air brings relief. But with the night comes danger: predators out hunting.   Hop. Hop. Hop. A shadow looms over. Kangaroo mouse seeks its dinner. Scurry fast – night is frightening.   Endless chase over darkened sand. To lose is to become food. All six legs carry quickly Seeking safety in—   MUNCH.

They do not understand how it is in my nature to consume. Humans, animals. Mortals! They are all alike. Passionless, uncreative being the lot of them! And yet they scream and scamper when I crawl from my watery tomb. I have been trapped for millennia, and it feels wonderful to stretch my wings and wrap my tentacles around prey. Their buildings and cars are mere playthings; a rough exoskeleton hiding the delicious morsels inside. I only wish they had more originality. Even the ones who revere me bore me to no end! Groveling, sniveling little worms, not even worth a second glance. Their only attribute is being convenient and willing food. If I allow some of them to live, they spread my message and expand my cult, bringing me more effortless food. How truly wonderful it is! Be even after hundreds of years of slumber, they have not changed an ounce. It bores me, but just as equally, I love to hear them chant…   “Hail Cthluhu. Praise Cthulhu.”

Loved at once, then forgotten abandoned to roam the streets. Caring parents and stroking hands Became angry shouts and striking blows.   Furever home they coo and claim, but one accident changes their mind. “He’s grown too big!” They with shock. Then throw me out to live alone.   Humans are all the same. I bark. I growl. I fight.   They cannot be trusted. I slink away from hands and nets. The streets are where I find my pack. My trust for humans forever broken.

I’m done. I’m finished. I cannot continue any more. My brain is mush; my thoughts scatter on the floor.

I try to focus. I try to think. Any thought to complete my prose. When it comes to words, nothing, absolutely nothing, goes.

I crumble the paper. I throw it away. My creativity is completely blind. What utterly useless crap has come from my mind.

Standing on the precipice, it was easy to sense the oncoming storm. Electricity frizzled through the air, almost touchable, almost audible. Darkness enveloped the land like a warm blanket, casting everything in shadow. High humidity caused hair to poof, as though each person was in permanent contact with an electric current. What was most unnerving was the quiet.   Each animal seemed to have gone to ground or taken shelter. No birds chirped their morning songs. Dogs didn’t bark at neighbours or mailmen. Cats curled up and did not run amok. All was quiet, eerily so. The sense of Mother Nature yearned for the thunderstorm. Trees and plants spread wide, ready to welcome the rain with glee. The wind picked up, singing a song as old as time through the branches and grasses.   Chaos would surely break, but not yet. Now was the quiet before the storm.

Nobody moved. Soft whimpers rippled through the crowd. One hundred heads bowed; their eyes downcast, for to make eye contact was certain death. Thin arms wrapped around loved ones, holding them close to prevent them from being selected. Once a day for the past three months, this was their hell. Their numbers slowly dwindled, and none of the workers expected to make it out of the camp alive.   “No one?” The gruff voice bellowed again. The man’s eyes shone with delight at the winces and whimpers of his captive audience. “If there are no volunteers, then I suppose we shall start with the youngest.” This comment elicited cries from the few people gathered around the youngest, a child of six.   Noiselessly, an old man near the back of the group struggled to his feet. Months of starvation and hard labour had turned his body into a flesh-covered skeleton. Eyes sunken into his skull stared unwaveringly at the man that tormented them. While physically unimpressive, the man held a power that even their captor did not seem to possess.   “You are weak.” The old man spoke with the practiced voice of a lecturer or politician. He shuffled carefully around the seated people. “A peon with no thoughts in his skull with no ounce of humanity or courage. Be a thug to some trumped up nobody. No one will remember their name, and no one will remember yours.”   The captor’s face flamed as the skeleton man approached him. His jaw clenched tight, unable to formulate any response. Instead, he grabbed the man’s arm, ignoring the sharp crack, though the cry of pain brought him some joy. He dragged the man off but left the others alone.

You are the light that brings me joy. One look from you and my world is brightened. My fears and woes cower before your gaze. The looks of unrestricted love lead me through my darkest days. In your eyes, I found my strength.   Your lips carry the kindest words to my ears. Exclamations of love elate my heart. You are the anchor that keeps me grounded, for without you, I would be adrift, lost in the vast emptiness of space. In your lips, I found my passion.   Your heart sings the sweetest love songs when my heart is pressed against your chest. I listen, enraptured by the purest form of love. My heart sings a duet with yours, a song that will last well beyond our mortal lives. In your heart, I found my love.   Your arms hold me close to you, the toughest armour money cannot buy. A bondage that is not my prison, but my eternal sanctuary. With you, I know I am safe from harm. In your arms, I found my home.

“We now call to order the Great Council and proceed with the reading of today’s agenda.” The commanding voice boomed through the stone room. Each one of the thirteen gathered people at the table sat at rigid attention. No shuffling nor sniffling broke the quiet that followed the authoritative voice.   “Yes, sir.” A meek voice to the man’s left replied. Though small, the voice didn’t stutter as it began to list the agenda items. “Firstly, the acknowledgement of the missing members of the council. Secondly, a review of the new orders put in place last week. And finally, we need to come to a decision regarding the traitors captured last night.”   “As we have no missing council members,” the leader’s voice declared, “let us proceed and skip directly to article three of today’s agenda.” This statement garnered uneasy whispering across the long table. “Silence! While it is an unpleasant topic, it is one we must consider.”   A woman at the far end of the table stood up, straightening her deep emerald gown. “Sir, I think we need to proceed with the greatest limitations allotted to us as the Great Council. I say we remove their eyes, tongues, hands and feet and lay them out for the animals to consume.” Greater comments across the table, some stating that her punishment was too harsh while others declared it didn’t go far enough.   “We accept the Lady Sylish’s proposal, and we present our own.” Two slight men with beak-like noses stood up while the lady resumed her seat. “We could cut them in twain tall-like while they are still alive.”   “Too easy!” A large man whose voice and body nearly filled the room grunted as he rose to his feet. His upper body was bare, exposing scars hidden amongst the forest of his hairy body. “Let’s take them north. Take their clothing and let them walk naked like a babe, following horse and sled. Let the frost and snow eat at their toes and fingers and peckers. Send a message to all other would-be traitors.”   “Send a message?” The woman speaking was dressed in an elaborate gown of black velvet and lace. “Taking them to the unpopulated north is the opposite of sending a message. Shunting them off to a place where people rarely choose to live would only inspire more acts of rebellion.”   “Then what do you propose, Lady Macallin?” The tempered voice of their leader cutting through, drawing all eyes to him.   “Put them on display. In the centre of town. The stocks would hold them perfectly. Strip them naked and allow nature (human and animal) to take their toll on the traitors. After a set sentence – say, a week? – remove their heads and set them on pikes in the square. Allow them to rot before they are finally removed.”   Silence followed her suggestion. No one could refute or rebut her idea; objections died on tongues before they formed.   “A vote for the lady’s idea. All those in favour, say ‘aye’. All those opposed, ‘nay’.”   The cacophony of thirteen voices voting ‘aye’ rang through the small room.