Short stories & poems

"Pitty, this is the sixth Lower Human murder in two weeks," a cop said to his coworker standing over the body, "The people are already down our necks to stop whoever is doing this, " one officer said. "Officers, why are we standing around?" Detective Monkee asked, taking a sip of his coffee. "Sir, it's another body," one of his officers said, "I don't need this right now. This case is going to be the death of me," he said.

"I can smell snow in the air," the man said, "We have a job to do," the driver said, "What's this again?" asked a man as he stepped out of the passenger seat. "How many times do I have to say Jon Doe, 23, was strangled to death?" his partner, the driver, said. "Why doesn't he have a name?" he asked. "The name doesn't help me figure out why the body is lying on the ground, only the case," she responded as she was leaving the vehicle. "I know how you get, so I will blame our job on your attitude right now," he commented. "I don't have an attitude," she snapped back, "Let's talk when we get back home, okay," he said calmly, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. His partner let out a little giggle, "There you are," he said with a smile.

"Detective Monkee, what do we have?" he questioned. "Hello, old friend! What are you two doing here?" the detective asked. "The bureau called us for this case," the woman stated. "The fucking HGB called you in," the detective said. "But I'm happy to have you here," Monkee added," We are happy to help an old friend," The man said. "It's the sixth one in two weeks," Monkee explained, "Do you have any ideas?" The man asked, "Nothing, everything is a dead end, and the public is demanding an answer; the tension will cause the people to pop soon," Monkee answered. "Do you mind If I a step away for a few," Monkee added, massaging his forehead. "We got this," he said; his partner is already studying the body. "Anything?" he questioned; she stood there in silence. "Did you get anything yet?" Monkee asked, returning, "Nothing yet; I haven't seen her like this in a while," he answered. "How long are you two staying around?" Monkee asked his friend, "I have no idea; it depends if the office needs us," he answered, "Let's try to do something," Monkee said, "I would love to," he answered. "The sun will be setting soon," the man announced, "What is she doing?" Monkee asked. "I have no idea; I just let her do her thing," he answered.

~ " Why would a person do this to innocent people?" she asked, "Oh My!" a miniature version of her partner said, "Doesn't this make you mad," The Entity told her, "Don't listen to that thing," he added. "Don't you just want to kill everyone that might be involved," The Entity said, "Don't listen to that thing; you are not like those monsters," he replied ~

"Alison, Alison," her partner said, tapping her shoulder. What?" she questioned, snapping back to reality. "Let the Detective and his officers get the body back to the station, and let's get something to eat," he said calmly. "I could use something to eat," she said solemnly. "You don't seem like yourself. What is on your mind?" he questioned. "Yeah," she answered, walking back to the car.

"Where, too?" Alsion asked, "One place we always have to go back while in the city. "He answered, "That place is still opening?" she questioned. "Yes, it is," he replied with a smile.

"Hello, Mr. GGGGOOOOLLLLLDDDD," the man yelled, entering the whole in the wall pizza shop. "Is that you, Arther?" Mr. Gold questioned with a happy tone. "How are you doing, old friend?" Arther asked, "I'm doing fantastic. I'm happy you showed up. I will be retiring soon," the owner said. "No, but I am happy to hear that; you deserve it," Arther said. "What would it be today?" Mr. Gold asked, "You know it, friend," Arther replied. "Where are my manners? Nice to see you again, Alison; it warms my heart that you two are still together," Mr. Gold said. "Yes, we are engaged," she said, holding up her hand with her ring on it. "Congrats, the pizza is on me tonight," Mr. Gold said, "We can't do that," Arther said. "Stop, your first date was in this store, is the least I can do," the owner said.

"Arther, didn't I tell you to put the heat on?" Alison said, grabbing more of the blanket. "I did," Arther said with a yawn. "Why is it so cold in this apartment," Alsion said from under the blanket. "I will go check it out," he said with his breath showing. As he moved into the living room, he noticed a figure in the kitchen. A golden handle with ruby resting at the bottom of it with a silver blade appeared in his hand. "Put down your blade, son," a voice said softly. "Forgive me, sir," Arther answered, making the blade vanish like nothing was there. "I helped myself to some of your tea; hope that's alright," he said, siping. "No problem; make yourself at home," Arther said, grabbing a cup. "Is your wife here?" he asked. "Not my wife yet, just my fiancée," Arther said. The visitor just looked at him, "I'll be back shortly," he said, stepping out of the room. 

"Alison, wake up," he said in a calm voice. What's wrong?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "We have a visitor," he said with a smile. Okay," she replied, getting out of bed.

"Commissioner, what are you doing here?" she asked as she entered the kitchen. "Good morning! By the way, this tea is the best I've ever had," he commented, taking another sip. "That's my sister's handiwork! She loves experimenting with tea leaves; I'll let her know you liked it," Alison replied. "Let's get to the matter at hand; what I'm about to say is off the books; only the higher-ups at the HGB know this understood," the commissioner said. "Yes," the couple replied in unison. 

"Oh, look, the first snowfall of the season!" Arther said with wonder in his voice. He took his future wife by the hand, spun her around, and pulled her in for a hug. "Honey, may I have this dance?" he asked. "Are you joking, right?" she asked. "What do you think?" he replied, "No," Alison said, defeated; "What do you say?" he asked, "We do need to practice," she answered.

"It is really coming down," Arther said with a smile, "I hate the cold," Alsion added; Arther handed his fiancée his jacket, "What is happening?" Alsion said, noticing a group of people. "Excuse me, miss, what is happening?" Alison asked one of the bystanders, "I think it's a body," she answered. "What?" Alison questioned. The woman pointed to the body. "ARTHER," Alison shouted. "Did anyone call it in yet?" Arther asked; one of the bystanders raised his hand. "I need everyone to take one giant step back. This is a crime scene." Arther announced to the crowd.

~ "Why are the killings so close to each other?" she asked, "This must boil your blood?," the Entity asked, "Let me think," Alison snapped back. "Doesn't this get you mad," the Entity said, "Yes," she replied under her breath.

"Alison, Alison. Are you ready to go home?" Arther said, resting his hand on Alison's shoulder. "What?" she questioned, looking up at him, "Are you ready to go home?" he repeated. "I need to figure this out," Alison said, "We can do that tomorrow; it's getting cold," he said, "I need to be by myself; you can go home," Alison said, "Alison, do not be ridiculous, I not leaving you alone, I know how you can get," Arther said. "Arther, please go home; I am not repeating it," she said, not looking at him, "I know, but I am not going anywhere," Arther said.

Swing high Far across the sky For marrow waits With unpleasant pains

Swing high Under the clouds Above the roaring tides Watching adoring crowds

Swing high For another will soon fall They would stand tall But can’t resist the siren’s call

Swing high To escape the storm Far away from the norm Swing high

From where I stand, there is an ominous presence I can’t fathom. The scenery has turned to a gloomy outpouring of misery, but I hope what is sure to come will be filled with mystery.

The ground is glistening with morning dewdrops from the cloudy sky. A purple haze appears in the distance, sparking a debate about what it is.

The closer, I get, the more it looks like a portal. Where does it lead to, is the question?

Faded light delicately touched the earths floor. As if to give it a good morning kiss, the winds flowed down allowing the ferns that littered the ground to tremble. The forest breathed good morning to the small creatures that emerged from the depths of the trees, the burrows and nest that lay hidden. Each tucked away in spots only the they and the wind knew. Birds awaken and sing the daily gossip they ever so enjoyed, sharing all the little secrets they learned over the days. Something else sturrs as a large figure makes his way threw the grove to the saskatoon berries that hang from the shrubs. Bear has arrived just in time for breakfast. The berries, (some ripe, some over ripe), reminiscent of the summer air that seems to be fading farther and farther with them as the autumn days grow closer. At last the bear comes to rest. He stares up at the sky and sunlight seeps three the branches of the forest. Something close to a smile passes over his face as he takes in the beautiful day. The forest at last has awoken. At peace with itself and its inhabitants.

In the dynasty era long ago there was a giant war with the world. There was a rock from another dimension that crashed on earth from a giant explosion made of many colours in space. It hit way before the dynasty era. But it was around the same time that the dinosaurs went extinct. In the war a 15 and half year old boy name Kai was walking in an over grown forest. He tripped and fell down a cave. He hit his head on a shiny clear rock. He touched the rock and then it made the ground shake the rock shrunk just enough to fit in his pocket so Kai put it in his pocket and ran out of the cave.

Henry wasn’t sure if he was Henry anymore.

He felt like Henry some days. Well, what he remembered Henry feeling like.

He felt like Henry when he was working in the forge, sweating like a pig and beating the shit out of molten metal. He felt like Henry when Islwyn clapped him on the back and shoved a tankard of ale in his hand. He felt like Henry when a little girl, blonde and filthy, tugged on his cloak and asked for a copper.

He gave her a silver and fought the urge to puke.

It was easier when he didn’t feel like Henry. Worse, a thousand times worse, but still somehow easier. When that dark feeling started twisting inside him, snapping at his heels and clawing up his throat, it was so much easier to remember who he was. Where he was. When he was.

Dugal gave him orders and he carried them out. If he was feeling like Henry they made his stomach turn, but if he was feeling like Not-Henry he barely thought about it.

Seeing Clara nearly broke him. His baby sister, too tall, too old, too strong. He remembered her barely reaching his waist, all big grey eyes and shiny blonde hair he painstakingly braided each morning. But now when he saw her she reached his chin and carried a sword.

Without fail, whenever he saw her, the two beings inside him started tearing into each other. Henry begged and begged to hold her for just a second more. Not-Henry seethed at the indignant girl standing against Dugal. Henry was horrified, horrified his baby sister was grown and had blood on her hands and scars on her body. Not-Henry didn’t even notice.

Henry knew that even if he could decide which one was really him, or maybe even just which one he wanted to be, it wouldn’t really matter. He’d never get Clara back, his Clara back. Something had broken fifteen years earlier, when that blade had sunk into his throat and everything went black. Or maybe it had broken when Dugal had dragged him back, kicking and screaming and clawing from—from wherever he’d been.

He was pathetic. He hated every inch of himself, Henry and Not-Henry alike.

A grim reaper has the ultimate career, taking the souls of the people who have left their earth, their time is over. But what does someone with such an intense, important job do when harvesting souls is not on the daily to-do list. Meet Gary and Rachel. 2 grim reapers who value their time off just as much as they value the important job they've been handed.

Rachel looks up from the book she's reading

"What's the worst experience you've had when reaping a soul" she asks Gary, Gary who is making a coffee, hard black of course, looking up with curiosity at the sudden question.

"Uh, well, i had one family, their grandma had just passed. When I came to do my job, they threw bricks at me. I mean hello, I'm just a simple reaper doing my job" He grimaced at the memory, rubbing his head.

A ding goes off in the other room signifying that the washing is done, the 2 reapers wash their cloaks daily. they claim it is to wash away the souls they have harvested that day in preparation for a new one.

Later on, Gary is drawing in his room, he draws a picture of every soul he has harvested, and places the drawing on his wall. His intention is not to create some weird shrine, but instead to honour the victims, He knows first-hand how hard death can hit someone, and harvesting the souls is not done maliciously, but with the intention of making sure the souls end up where they need to be. And of course not in the hands of the wrong person

What happened to the forest after man came? It is clear that the predators have dwindled away, but where have they gone? Well, magic has a way of protecting the world’s most valuable creatures. Literally, there is a portal in the hollow of the oldest tree in the deepest part of the forest. This portal leads to another world—my world—and this is my story.

Everything changed for me on my twelfth birthday, but before I get to that, let me explain my world to you. I live in a land of shapeshifters, or colloquially, shifters. On a shifter’s twelfth birthday, he finally gains the ability to change forms. A person will either be a wolf, crow, bear, cougar, fox, weasel, or lion since those are the predators that entered the portal centuries ago and became part human. And, the more a person shifts, the more he will take on the likeness of whatever creature he has the power of. Your shift is passed down by genetics. If your parents were wolves, you will most likely be a wolf. If your parents are mixed, such as a bear and a cougar shifter, then you could be either or.

I had been looking forward to my twelfth birthday for years—not that I had much else to anticipate. My parents never let me play outside or go anywhere, even to school. I still remember the first day of school when I was six. My older siblings, Farlo and Kate, got to go to real school while I had to stay home with mom and be homeschooled. I threw a massive fit because it didn’t seem fair! I was upset until I looked into my mother’s eyes. There was a look of deep pain and sorrow that filled my mother’s eyes. “I’m doing this for your own good,” she murmured softly. After quickly drying my tears, I silently followed her into our “classroom“ (the dining room). I acted out a few more times, but every time, I saw that same expression on my mother’s face and stopped. As I grew older, I understood that there was something she knew that I didn’t. At least not yet.

I awoke on the day of my twelfth birthday bursting with excitement! I couldn’t wait to shift into a wolf for the first time, just like my parents and siblings! I leapt out of bed and raced down the stairs; but when I opened the door to the living room, I saw Mother and Father sitting on the couch with very serious expressions. “Lila,” Mother said, her wolf ears twitching nervously, “there is something we need to tell you, dear.”

If you go down to the beach today, you will be in for a surprise. You will see lots of crabs and knitting and lots of weeds to your liking shells scattered all over the place seagulls eating scraps of rubbish lying around. If you go down to the beach today, you’ll be in for a surprise as the tide and the tide will gather you up all of the detritus of the human rubbish into the water onto the beach

When you touch the cloth get a flashback of a woman wrapped in it sift and warm dancing in the moon light running in a forest in a field, a fiery damsel in the wild The velvet started liquefying sleeping and he realised it could’ve been blood or the sadness and weeping of a woman in moarning