I am one of those people who has been almost everywhere, and done almost everything, I write stories, mostly fiction, or Science Fiction, and I write poetry.
The Adventures of Niall Cadfael MacLir
The man walked down the road and a dust devil danced around him, occasionally plucking at the sleeves, or corners, as if trying to get the cloak to dance with it. The road continued down until it ended in an intersection, in one direction it ran almost forever across the bald prairie, in the other direction it ended in a copse of trees. The outermost trees appeared dry and covered in dust, but within the shade they grew lustrously with vines stringing upward towards the sky. It was down the wooded path the man turned, and deep within, and off the path a ways he found an old oak tree, and there he made his camp.
The Adventures of Niall Cadfael MacLir
You do not recognise me, I see this, as you fumble about in confusion, grasping for some way of determining how I know these things”, the man said, a shadow of a smile curling about his lips. “I know I have been gone these ten years, but even my wife does not think my appearance has changed that much”>
The Adentures of Niall Cadfael MacLir
The day was moderately warm, if you lived in Hell, the sun had burned off every imaginable trace of moisture, and any residue had been atomized leaving the day hot and dry, and everybody had sought the shade long since, well, almost everybody. A man walked into the town that day, the sun seeming to settle and light his hat like an otherworldly flame, even his shadow seemed to flit, ghostlike beside him, and those who saw him were not altogether certain whether he was real, or merely an apparition of the heat. The man stood about six feet tall, with deep brown hair cascading over his shoulders that danced in the breeze created by his passage. Looking at his mane you could not be certain whether it was truly long, or just looked that way. His coat long and dusty, looked like it had seen battle, or had been washed in a river of dust, perhaps both, it flowed long and barely did his boots show from beneath it. His trusted boots, battered and worn, and with many a mile wearing the soles.
Pepperoni Pickle Pizza
So I had a restaurant in Mexico, i made burgers and Pizza, and many were my Mexican Clientele, I offered the best food for the lowest price, and my customers returned, sometimes for seconds and thirds. Now it may seem strange, until you realize that this pizza is not your normal pizza, it is a roll. So one roll is equal to a piece of pizza, and yet people would buy three or four to consume for a meal. I now share with you the recipe, for your tastebud's pleasure.
It began on a grey December morning, the news reports were coming in from all around the world, the typical rhetoric from the politicians and media said do not panic but panic set in, as this was the most common response to such statements. A virus had escaped, or had developed, or had evolved, in some land far to the East that no one could pinpoint, they informed us it had the potential to kill a third of the world’s population, but again ‘do not panic’ was the repeating message.
It all started on a grey December morning, news reports came in from around the world, The talking heads all said do not panic, but panic set in. A virus had escaped, or had developed, or had evolved, in some fabled land far to the East, The talking heads said it had the potential to kill a third of the world’s population, but do not panic. By afternoon of that day cities were burning, the citizenry had rioted, pandemonium reigned, and that was the first day. On succeeding days more information came in, and The talking heads promoted fear, and terror. Raw, gut clenching fear overcame much of the populace, a terror that runs deep to the bones, a visceral horror, and the fear of the virus became fear of one another, the healthy attacking each other, accusing one another of various crimes, parent against children, brother against sister, families torn apart by the promoted fear.
The Rover Prince
Let me tell you a story, a story about a prince who was a rover, and a princess who did not know she was a princess. Now I hear the question asked, "How can this be, a princess being unaware of being a princess?" The answer lies in the midst of a war that lasted a thousand years.
Unsettled Past (Ch. 1)
There is a place, on a bay, where the red tiled roofs slope gently down to the sea, a place where men go down and ply their trades as they have for thousands of years. It is a place where palm trees sway gently in the breeze, and birds sing their songs of love, and romance stirs the air. In this place, women and men go about their daily lives without the slightest idea of events beyond the borders of their land. In this place where Jasmine scents the air, and smell-by-night trees blast the unsuspecting evening with their scents, I have made my home. I found a wife, a lovely dark skinned woman, with moonlight glinting in her eyes, and my past I tried to forget.
The End Is Near
I am completely mad, at least there is a strong possibility that I am; for reality could in no way be as warped as I see it. Perhaps I had best explain though, for mad men are rarely lucid enough to realize their sanity has slipped, and I have just stated that I theorize that mine, too, has slipped.