Zilch, Zophiel, Zero… #atozchallenge

a to z

Zilch, is all’s I ever got. My wife, the harpy, continually nags me to take her places.

I thought, “Peru is some place.”

The Inca ruins were breathtaking.

All I heard was, “The mountains are freezing.

So I bought Marjorie a coat made from  mountain goat’s wool.

Later that day, we climbed to Machu Picchu.

We were standing on a cliff enjoying the magnificent view when a Harpy Eagle swooped down and seized her.

Soaring into a canyon, he dropped her on the jagged rocks.

He thought she looked like a tasty goat.

Now how’s that for ironic?

A Harpy eating a harpy.

***

Many thanks to my friend Steve Slack who pulled off not only a great “Z” for the end of the A to Z Challenge, but he did it in less than 100 words – Bravo Steve.

And here’s a tantalizing tidbit from Matt Harrill’s new serial The ARC Legacy that will be coming in 2016

***

His hands balled in fists, Zophiel dropped to his knees, his robes spreading about him.

Tears of purest light streamed down his face, glistening like the first rays of dawn on the morning of the first day. His head hung low.

“Metatron, my brother, is dead…” The whisper came from clenched teeth.

The lips peeled back as his shoulders trembled, the feathers on his enormous wings starting to shake as grief very evidently became rage. Those nearby took a step back.

“They did this.” His eyes opened, and the crystal blue had been replaced with irises of darkest night. “Release Nibiru,” he growled. “Unleash the host.”

“Zophiel, no,” Ioviel gasped. “The world will end.”

“The world has ended.”

***

And one final visit to the dark streets of New Cago…

“Luz, we are down to Zero!” Sam’s hands grew numb as he held a lifeless hand.

It was true the last of his friends (and hers) were dead.

Sam was all that was left, strangely he was more driven.

“Our blood gives you the best chance to succeed, Sam.”

“All my friends are dead and I’m supposed to be comforted?”

“No time for tears, Sam.” A woman who was wearing one pink slipper whispered.

****

“Zeek,  today is your lucky day!”

Sam held a list. He gladly put a line through the last name – in blood.

Many thanks to the A to Z crew for another great year. I would like to put in one more mention for the Fill the Cracks program for children Orphaned by Ebola. We appreciate any support – reblogs, tweets…

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Spoiler Alert!!!

The writers are loose

I Need a Transfusion #halloween #poetry #horrorweek

re-made fuseli_nightmare

 

 

Suspended above the clouds

captive of a swoon

what magician’s trick

 hung me by the moon

life leaves me in sleep

celestial I drift

all Hallow’s calamity

my blood forever drips

blood drips

 

 

DRIP, Drip, drip…

silent as the dead

the jack-o-lantern jeers

fear we now instead

notes that gave a tip

to get inside our head

wiggle with our fears

more we have to dread

a new report we get

she shot twice in the head

little ones are dear

no hallows – early now  to bed

 Zodiac killer rips

a community is fed

killings through the years

we can only hope you’re dead

blood drips

My first poem was written before Susan put up the completion for the Poet’s United prompt: The real story what is Halloween to me? To many of us who were in the San Francisco Bay Area- Halloween meant the Zodiac killer might be on the loose. I was trying to compose a short story about this killer and what it was like as a child growing up with a killer on the loose for years. The Zodiac serial killings is a cold case; the man killed 20 (or more people) and would send chilling notes through the newspapers making his threats.

blood

horror week

 

This painting is a remake of  Henry Fuseli’s Nightmare. I normally couldn’t do this to art but everyone else tends to mess around  with Fusseli.

Please forgive my theatrics- I am having way too much fun with blood this week.

And while the blood drips why not follow the grim reaper in catching some horror book giveaways over at Coffin Hop!

coffin-hop-2014

 

Fresh #poetry #photography

beauty

Fresh

 fallen the night before

crisp

 footprints on distant shore

crystalline

capturing  fallen light

colorful

red rose smiling bright

holding

hands clasped this day

speechless

love needed nothing to say

vowed

spoken to the skies

renewed

snowflakes in our eyes

free

petals fall in the breeze

laughter

whispers spoken to the trees

fallen

strong stood aged oak

memory

 song where new life awoke

reaching

striving for the sun

hoping

new path on which to run

In 75 words or less: A New Year.  Again.  Are you a fan of “new”? Or are you tired of the whole idea of “new,” preferring the tried and true? 

Newness a prompt from Poet’s United.

poets united

Undone #poetry #photography #art

paint undone

Slain

by your sharp edged heart

well aimed piercing

dart

*

Dripping

off the edge of my page

blood flows free at this

stage

*

Alone

none to hold back the pain

too late to catch bloody

rain

*

Undone

mere ashes in your hands

fiend, my death so long

planned

Art and Photograph “Undone” © L. Moon 2013

Gateway to Death #poetry #photography

hell's gate

Bolted twice and once padlocked

Hairs rose on my back as I passed

“what can fools fear here”

the crows mocked

death’s never taken its last

*

Boney fingers in a long, far reach

striving against iron grate

“warm healthy blood

I offer one taste

 no fear there’s the strong, sturdy gate “

*

blood rose and poured out my mouth

foaming it took out my teeth

“release me”

I cried to no one

up drove creped horse with black wreath

*

Unbolted twice and unpadlocked

Hairs rose on my back as it passed

“you are a fool

to have come here”

death’s reaper has taken his pass

***

This is just a taste to wet your lips. Go to Pen of the Damned and get a full coarse meal of death.

“Feast at my burial. I’ll bring the beer.”

Photograph: “Hell’s Gate” © L. Moon 2013

Blood in its wake #flashfiction #newcago #noir

fleeting-copyright-indira-mukherjee (2)

I stood in a daze my mouth agape

out of nowhere came a colorful bus travelling much too fast

Its wheels barely touching the pavement.

I heard a woman scream and then saw her emerge from the bus’ bloody wake

Staggering, she strained toward the guarded doorway

Never acknowledging my presence, she pled with the stoic, holographic image

“Please grant me entrance. I am wounded.”

I shook my head in sadness. ” Poor soul- death’s fog is rolling in.”

To my surprise the barricaded door opened

she stumbled over the threshold

With not a moment of thought, I entered behind her

Thanks to Indira for the Photograph: “Fleeting”-copyright-indira-mukherjee

(I doctored up the coloring to give the red highlights)

Thanks to Rochelle who manages a bus load of Flash Fictioneers each week and keeps us on our toes. This week is no exception – Join Us as we strive to write something in 100 words!

NewCago is a noir, metropolitan area that is plagued with a string of perhaps para normal bad guys. Sam (a private detective) seems to be the only one who can stay alive long enough to protect the citizens. How long can his luck last???

Last week Sam faced up with a holographic guard who was guarding a passageway the Sam somehow knew he must enter. Follow Sam inside as he unravels the death and deception in New Cago.

Week 13 Holographic Deception

Here’s a list of the previous stories (the clues were week 11 & 12)

Week 10 in Newcago Serial No Dial Tone

Week 9 in Newcago serial Gathering Bodies

Week 8 in Newcago serial No place to hide

Week 7 in Newcago serial They were Pink

Week 6 In Newcago Serial You poison filled wasps

Week 5 in Newcago Serial The Doom Cycle

Week 4 in Newcago Serial Helpless

Week 3 in Newcago Serial When the Lights Go On

week 2 in Newcago Serial  Can’t Kill The Thirst

Week 1 in Newcago Serial Secret Weapon