life is a three course meal
of baby food
steak and lobster
and mushed food
sprinkled with
a dash of irony
and a touch of salt
some good whiskey
and wine
while you dine
until it’s time
to pay your final bill
when you’ve had your fill
Category: humans
Apocalypse Road
Everything was reduced to a survival mode
when mankind walked down Apocalypse Road
the journey was slow but sure
after each world war
until there were no more
and civilization broke down
in every city and town
leaving few humans around
and those that did survive
fought every day to stay alive
until the Apocalypse finally did arrive
no surprise
but
there’s still stars in the sky
and planets and meteorites
that still exist in forever nights
solar systems and galaxies
planets with water and trees
and life evolving mysteries
Investigating a Disturbance
He was eating a burrito when the call came in that there was a disturbance at a local Inn…
… the odd thing you see, was the Inn was no longer occupied and hadn’t been for over a half of a century, which poised a mystery to Officer O’Reilly…
the Inn was once a landmark of fame where the wealthy came, but had hit on hard times many years ago, it’s interior splendor disguised by dust and rust, a sad and forgotten tableau…
Officer O’Reilly read the report by a citizen who walked by the Inn that night claiming he heard noises and saw an eerie light…
approaching the front door O’Reilly remembered the local lore that told of a hidden horror lurking there forevermore…
and peeked into the window instead, hoping he wouldn’t see the walking dead, when he suddenly saw a head and let out a moan of dread, because it was moving until it disappeared into the dark interior…
flashlight pointed straight ahead O’Reilly kicked in the front door and plunged into the dark gloom rapidly moving his flashlight around the room…
when he saw a man with an old-fashioned lantern in his hand, barely able to stand, O’Reilly called out and asked why he was there, but all the man did was stare…
deciding he was a harmless old vagrant seeking shelter he let him stay for one more day, and he went on his way when the old man had nothing to say, unaware he disappeared the moment he walked away.
****
The Champion
The Roman arena on display with the blood of humans and animals on a scorching August day…
we see a massive iron gate rise and out strides two gladiators in armor with killer eyes, ready to find out which one dies…
the blistering heat from the sandy arena floor shimmers on their swords as they walk through the gore and stand before the emperor, listening to the crowd’s roar…
“We who are about to die…” is drowned out by the crowd’s excited cries from spectators with blood in the eyes…
the emperor gives a slight nod and sat down, and the combatants turned around until they faced each other in the open ground, weapons held high, both hoping the other would die…
metal rang against metal in the raging heat, as each athlete refused to retreat so that blood covered each from head to feet while spectators passed out in the terrible heat…
finally one of the men clove open the other’s head, striking him instantly dead, leaving the victor the champion for the day, a title he’d be forced to defend again and again until his last day
****
The Meteorite
(132 words- flash fiction/poetry)
In the chronicles of Narmer the first King to unite the Upper and Lower Nile, a strange thing happened one night when a brilliant light streaked across the desert sky…
the light, which was actually a meteorite, hit a site near a Hittite temple hundreds of miles away, glowing where it lay, night and day, with a mysterious inner fire that attracted followers by the day…
who listened to the priests gathered there to pray to the meteorite, creating rites and calling it a god for lost souls seeking their way to eternity, a powerful entity that soon inspired a new prosperous Hittite city…
The inevitable clash of nations happened within a century, as the dark gods of both civilizations clashed, like opposing meteorites created by ideologies that couldn’t survive future centuries.
*****
The Last Match
(238 words- flash fiction/poetry)
The wind hammered down the narrow Sierra Nevada Mountain trail, followed by hail and then a blanket of snow as the man looked for somewhere safe to go…
he was covered by his old slicker poncho pulled over his sagging hat and leather clothes, a lone traveler who was nearly froze, but who was able to walk even though he couldn’t feel his toes…
… when the snow stopped and the night crept up like a rattlesnake, the traveler had a decision to make, if he were to survive he’d have to find a shelter to stay alive…
when to his relief he found a small cave in the mountain’s side, an opportunity to get warm inside, where his biggest desire was to start a fire so the heat could get to his frozen feet…
… he gathered some twigs and leaves off the dirt and knelt down while drawing a little cardboard box from his shirt, that to his horror only contained one match…
that he could feel and dimly see, a wooden key to warmth and being frostbite free, he sat there for what felt like an eternity, hesitant to see if the match would be able to relieve his misery…
holding the cardboard box on it’s side he took the match and let it slide across the rough surface and suddenly there was a spark, he lit the fire, and chased away the cold and the dark.
*****
The Grocery Clerk
(162 words- flash fiction/poetry)
Monica was a grocery store clerk who worked for a jerk, but because she had bills to pay she couldn’t just walk away, so she tried to make the most out of each day….
One afternoon she was confronted by a goon with a gun who demanded all the cash in her drawer, to her utter horror, while she complied her manager was trying to hide nearby behind a display of a soap called Tide…
After the goon grabbed the cash he was still unsatisfied, and demanded to know where the manager could hide, so Monica looked away from the Tide and was quick to abide pointing up at the office where he would normally reside…
When the police arrived they caught the goon, talked with the manager for a little while, as Monica cleaned up a mess in an aisle, the manager came by to say, “Thank you!” and “… it’s time for a raise in your pay.”
The Last Train
(158 words- flash fiction/poetry)
He waited impatiently on the wooden bench in front of the one-room train depot that sat in the middle of nowhere sweating in the high desert air, when he heard a faint whistle…
Dust devils danced gleefully in the distance, forerunners for a giant sandstorm gathering in the West, but the man was unimpressed, as he stared like he was possessed…
… into the direction of the whistle which grew louder with each heartbeat, and soon he could see a train through the shimmering heat, as he got to his feet, ready to board and take the back seat…
as the train idled and plumes of steam shrilly screamed with the whistle’s urgent blast, the man moved fast to get aboard and ignored the other passengers who looked bored…
There was no need to look back as they went down the track with their memories already fading with the light, something new was just ahead in the gathering night.
****
Little Red Riding Hood in the 21st Century
(184 words -Flash Fiction/Poetry)
They called her Little Red in Sedona, Arizona where crystal-gazers told the fortunes of tourists who came to see the famous red sandstone hills beauty, that explodes in orange and red splashes of brilliant colors when the sun rises, or sets.
Little Red was from the barrio on the wrong side of town, a collection of homeless people who gathered around, helping one another, like a sister and brother, to survive in a merciless economy of the 21st century…
The local homies who respected her gig of taking from the rich and giving it to the poor, had a good rapport with the Harley-riding Little Red who stayed ahead of the law gaining the awe of all the local gangs…
One day Little Red went to see her grandma who lived by the sea, to see if everything was the way it was supposed to be, when she discovered an anomaly that led her to believe an imposter was there to deceive…
Little Red hopped on her Harley and headed for open country determined to be free from the constraints of fairytales and history.
***
In Praise of Hobbies
we all need a hobby for our happy place
a refuge from our daily routine
another way to express our ourselves
by playing a guitar or a tambourine
crafting clever things out of clay
writing in a journal or writing a poem
free to express yourself in any way
there’s no boundaries
for hobbies
Is what I’m trying to say
spend time for yourself
and make your day
The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff 