Monday, October 19, 2015

2015 Writober 19: Hand-Turkey

I've been doing other things, and not posting here, for my writober stuff. Today, I am writing here.

My friend challenged me to a hand-turkey off. So here's a little hand turkey poem:


So small was the chick
When he grew very big
His feathers stayed small
They called him Stumpy

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

2015 Writober 14: Twinkle Not

My poetic response to the Mad Hatter's Poem:

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! Shut up, shut up, cries the bat.
How I wonder what you're at! Your voice is dumb and so flat.
Up above the world you fly, If I choose to take to sky,
Like a tea-tray in the sky. It’s not for you that I fly.
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! Not a light, I am a bat.
How I wonder what you're at! So what do you think of that?
~ Mad Hatter ~ Nin Nyx

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

2015 Writober 13: Raven's Moon (short story start)

Raven’s passenger car was at the top of the ferris wheel when it stopped. All the other carnival goers started grumbling and crying and screaming. After peaking over the edge to see the sparks fly, the carnival workers on the ground yelling to each other, and the carnival goers yelling at the workers, Raven slid out from under her restraints. As she stood, the little pod swayed back and forth, but she kept her balance.
It was a crisp, clear autumn night with only one cloud in the sky. That one cloud was covering the moon, her moon. She stared up at it, her long features pulling into a scowl.
“Hey lady, what’re you doing?”
The squeaky male voice came from behind and just below her. She twisted her head and fixed her sharp, black eyes on the teenage boy in the car behind her. His letterman’s jacket screamed jock, but he didn’t have the vapid look she had come to assume all jocks wore. She tilted her head, wondering how he could see her. She had worn all black for the occasion and the darkness of her skin reflected no light in this darkest night. Perhaps it was her hair. Even though it too was black, it was shiny.
He gasped as she leaned over the back of the gondola towards him, causing it to dance. Once it had settled down, she touched a long, slender finger to her lips and breathed a, “shhhhhhhhh!”
With a deep inhale, his green eyes opened wide. On the exhale, his eyelids fell and he slumped forward, asleep.
Raven turned back to the moon. Balancing, one foot on the seat and the other on the bar that closed the pod, she held her hands up to the sky and mimed grasping the cloud.  She yanked and tossed it aside. As if she’d actually grabbed it, the cloud skittered across the sky. Her moon was bright and full. She tilted her head, closed her eyes, and smiled. After a few seconds of soaking in the light and power of the moon, she hopped to the floor of her pod and pulled off her clothes.
“What the hell?”
This voice came from the pod in front of her’s. She sighed. The couple in that pod hadn’t stopped making out since the ride started. They hadn’t even come up for air when the wheel stopped, but they just had to look while she was getting naked.
Leaning over the front bar, she put her dark finger to her dark lips and hissed a, “shhhhhhhh!” Both of them, the blonde boy and the raspberry girl, gasped then slumped into each other.
The cacophony of angry voices from below, swelled. Frustration blossomed within her. All these interruptions! How was she supposed to transform when these humans were interfering with her ritual?
Leaning over the side of the gondola, she put a finger to her lips and swung her head from left to right as she exhaled her loudest, longest, “shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Everyone on that side toppled where they stood or sagged where they sat. She repeated it over the other side of her pod. She smiled in the silence that followed. But such a display of magic took its toll on her and she fell back into her seat, very tired.
“No!” She said aloud, shaking herself. She had done too much to prepare for this night to let an energy sap sabotage it all. Grabbing the bottle of reviving elixir (better known as caffeinated soda), she drank it down. With a deep inhale, she stood with her arms stretched out and her eyes wide. The restorative light of the moon would fill her with power.
Soon the intensity of it became too much, so she closed her eyes. She could feel the magic coursing through her body. It was time to begin.
“Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero. Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero.”
As she spoke, the blackness of her eyes spread. Her hair rippled and wrapped around her head and neck, changing into feathers. Her nose and mouth elongated.
“Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero. Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero.”
Plumage pushed out through her pores as her arms pulled back, her shoulders cracking and reforming. Her back arched forward as longer feathers grew from her posterior.
“Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero.”
After the fifth repetition, her words became a caw and she spread her wings wide; a raven the size of a human. Two more caws and she flew off into the sky.
Below her, everyone woke.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

2015 Writober 11: Sick

Gah! I'm sick... 
I missed a day of writober 
my brain is so mushy 
writing anything worthwhile 
is just not gonna happen. 
So this is what you get. 
You're welcome. 
Gotta get some tea and sleep 
so I can infect my patrons tomorrow. 
I'll be sure to say, 
"you're welcome", 
to them too. 
Sharing is Caring! 

Friday, October 9, 2015

Thursday, October 8, 2015

2015 Writober 8: The ABCs of Zombiehood

A is for the allure of alabaster eyes.
B is for the balance I have to maintain.
(I bet you thought I was gonna say brains.)
C is for the cravings I just can’t control.
D is for the death I didn’t survive.
E is for the euphoria I feel eating brains.
F is for the fingers that keep falling off.
G is for the gasoline they poured in my hair.
H is for the health I’ll never have again.
I is for the insanity I’m pretty sure I have.
J is for the juicy way the brains squish in my mouth.
K is for the killing I’ve been forced to do.
L is for the luck I never really had.
M is for the mountain of bodies in my wake.
N is for the nobody I feel I’ve become.
O is for the others like me I can’t find.
P is for the people whose lives I’ve destroyed.
Q is for the quiet the encompasses my mind.
R is for the rivers of blood I dream about.
S is for the slivers I eat on the sly.
T is for the terrible way time seems to pass.
U is for the way I feel so unique.
V is for the variety of different brains.
W is for the world that’s gone mad.
X is for the xerox each day seems to be.
Y is for the yellowish hue of my skin.
Z is for the zero my life has become.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

2015 Writober 7: From My Novel-in-Progress - The Peculiar Predicament of Poppets

Luc sat on the bed as his sister took off her hat. The small room was dim as the shades were pulled and there was only one candle lit. Enid wouldn’t look him in the eye, but she sat on the chair by the vanity. She turned so he could study her wounds. Even in the shadowed room, he could see that her skin was red and blistered from where the flames had burned her. It looked painful. She had no hair, not even eyebrows or eyelashes, on the left side of her head. She leaned her chin into the palm of her right hand.
“Carl died. That poor stupid horse ran through flames. We both caught fire, but he just kept running and screaming and screaming and running. He saved my life then…” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “He just died.” She didn’t cry. After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at Luc. “I had no idea where I was, but at least I wasn’t on fire anymore. I think I was delirious. I don’t know how long I wondered before Leonard, Missus Gladys brother, found me. He’s such a strange, sweet little man. He asked me if I needed help in the funniest little accent. I said yes, but I didn’t have any money. He said,” she cleared her throat and tried to imitate the Yorkshire accent,” tha’s a’right. Me an’ mine own sister had nay a penny ‘tween us when we comes to the new land an’ folks’s helps us out so we be helpin’ you out.”
She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Luc noticed she was missing a few teeth, but he didn’t say anything. He shook his head thinking about how lucky he had been to be found by Miss Rosalind. She sighed.
“Dear brother we are both cursed and blessed. Mom and the twins are probably dead, but here we are, safe. And we found each other. What are the chances of that?” She gave a sad smile.
Luc cleared his throat. “Dad died.”
Enid was silent, her eyes wide. “Dad died?”
Enid held out her hand and wiggled her fingers until Luc leaned forward and took it. “Oh Luc,” she sighed.
Luc nodded then told her about Chicago burning, the cemetery, pulling the cart, waking up at Rosalind’s, and finding out that their father was haunting a doll. Enid bit her lip, silently crying during his whole speech.
“I want to see him.” She whispered when he was done. “I want to see him and I want him to see me and I want to go back to Peshtigo to see if maybe Mom or the twins made it. Then was can try to find Mom’s brother, Dante. He’s family.”
Luc, who had the same feeling, nodded. “We will. After we eat, I’ll take you to Dad. Then when both of us are strong enough, we will go to Peshtigo. Hopefully, one of those kind ladies will take us there. If not...” He shrugged. “Well, we’ll find a way.”
Enid nodded, then tilted her head, and sniffed the air.
“What is that delicious smell?” Enid asked.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Enid called. “It’s probably Missus Gladys with food and Missus Q to come get you.”
The door opened slowly, as a lumbering figure backed into the room. To their surprise, it was Leonard. He was carrying a tray with two plates on it. The plates had roast beef, cooked vegetables, fried potatoes, and a round bread thing on it.
“We ‘aven't any ginger beer, but we ‘ad all the right stuff to make some Yorkshire puddin’. You two needs some fattenin’ up an’ this’ll do it.”
Enid smiled. “Hello Leonard. Have you met my brother, Luc?”
The short stooped man set the tray on the small table. “I ‘aven’t ‘ad the pleasure.” He lit a few more candles around the room, then stopped and extended his hand to Luc. Luc took his hand, they shook, and Leonard left the room.
“What an odd man.”
Enid, who had dragged the chair at her vanity over to the table nodded. “But he’s so sweet! If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead.”
Luc, having sat on the other chair at the table, paused with a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth. “I’m glad you’re not.”
“Me too,” Enid said and began eating.