Echoes of thunder
following the silver darts
high above the clouds
Upturned faces, some with smiles,
the frowns stem from memory
Tongues can give pleasure
they can excite or incite
strong but sensual
We continued our descent and within fifteen minutes the only light was from our headlight beaming through the cold, deep-space-black water.
Dr. Anders suddenly cried, “Stop, stop a minute, look at that in the main camera, isn’t it so beautiful!”
We gazed in awe at the magnificent skeleton flowing, turning in a slow-motion ballet in the stark, artificial light, even shorn of flesh we could see it was a species never previously observed or classified by any other person, but in the knowledge that possibly our photos would help by adding it to the long list of deep underwater wonders.
We looked down to the floor and saw the remains of an egg, but what an egg, it had to be the size of a football. We didn’t know what species of bird or reptile laid this but two things were instantly obvious. Whatever had broken out of the shell would have been hungry but had left the greenery alone around it. That could only mean it was carnivorous and judging by the cracks in the surrounding soil, very, very heavy. You wouldn’t want this newborn biting at your ankles. Time to start the hunt.
We stood open-mouthed, tears in the corners of our eyes, some openly weeping in disbelief. Just ten minutes before we had been watching one of the most amazing sights to be witnessed by man in the twentieth century. For no human could have witnessed this spectacle before the later half of the century. We had managed to find a little known viewpoint from which we could watch the launch of the space shuttle for departure to the International Space Station, a marvel of scientific engineering. All had seemed fine as we watched in what appeared to be slow motion as the giant rocket slowly lifted but seemed to rapidly accelerate and the rocket stretched to the heavens but our elation and cheers had turned to stunned amazement as we saw a trickle of flame creep up the side of the craft causing it to perform a flaming somersault, startlingly bright against the pale blue, at the beginning, cloudless sky. An explosion ensued resulting in a highly visible shower of crimson heated metal fanning out into a parasol of vapour trails like upstretched arms bowing in protection of a defenseless scalp. Within a few minutes even these had dispersed leaving a few innocent, tell-tale wisps in the sky.
Death lurks in shadow
till the light of life flickers
and is extinguished
“It will soon be time,” I whisper, licking my lips expectantly. “Three fools have come in to shelter for the night, have they not heard the tales told of Coulan’s cave? Shall I torment them or will I play a game first. Keep their heads turning this way and that. With a tickle and a tap. Make them shake and shiver. Pick out the brave one for added sport. Hmm, let me see”.
The light is fading
soon the shadows start to fall.
Her dark eye shadow
applied with the lghtest touch
enhanced her beauty.
Beauty that ensnared many
and would lead them to their doom
Everyone was waiting for this once in a generation experience, the rebirth of the Phoenix, 89 characters
The themes for Issue 8 could stir emotions or raise eyebrows so I suggest might be worth a peek for untold rewards.
There’s still one last chance to be part of The A3 Review‘s Issue 7, The Silver Issue. This month’s theme is SILVER THINGS, so make sure to get your sparkly work in by Saturday the 26th August. Click here for glittery inspiration and to submit. The issue will also include a story by guest flash-fiction writer Kathy Fish alongside the winners of the last 5 months of contests, and this month’s winners, too.
In other news… The A3 Review‘s founding editor, Shaun Levin, is launching a new online writing course, How to Map Your Book. The course is suitable for writers at all stages of a book project, so if you’re putting together a collection of short stories, you might want to…
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Alex Markovich. 40 y.o. Russia. Artist. Author. MarkovichUniverse AT gmail DOT com Feel free to use my paintings and photos on your blogs and social networks as illustrations for your stories, poems, etc.
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Tales Don't tell themselves
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