Friday, January 14, 2022

Secrets for the Dead

She carried her secret to the grave
gray skies mourning with the snow
no one knew
the tales of her own suffering
til that day she carried them alone

The procession past the grave
silent on this still final day
no one knew
the memories she held too closely
she spread its ashes and walked away

Closure is for the living
the dead hold their own vigil
as she knew
the burden endured was heavy
til she finally lightened her load

 

A little twist on the phrase - "taking it to the grave."

Linked at Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #9: Telling Secrets


 

Friday, January 7, 2022

Timely Meeting

Bannon had a headache. The two visitors displayed no emotion and the woman in custody never raised her head. “You’re telling me that Miss Blanck-whatever, is the granddaughter of Doestal and came back in time to give her grandmother what she always wanted… to be a great novelist?”

“Yes,” the taller man replied. The woman nodded. “She used to belong to our group and gone rogue for personal gain.”

“You three should be locked up.” Bannon stood up. “If you’re ‘time-cops,’ why didn’t you come back earlier and stop her?”

“Because we didn’t have a precise time until you called for backup last night. I’m sorry for your partner.”

“But you can go back and stop it!”

“Impossible. It has to do with a divergence of world lines…”

“Now you’re getting all Steins;Gate on me? Next you’ll be talking about John Titor and his time machine.” The two agents flinched slightly. “Next up - Morlocks!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the shorter man finally spoke.

“And the cube?”

‘Tallman’ replied, “In her time, organs for transplants are quite valuable. She found successful authors from class lists of her grandmother, came here, then transferred the heart into the cube to return it to her time. If she failed to send back a heart, her sponsors were, rather are, or in your case will be, quite persuasive in their means.”

Bannon's head throbbed. “Why didn’t the cube work on me?”

“You aren’t an author. I mean you weren’t on the authors list.” Tallman stood, “It’s time for us to go.”

“No, you’re not…” Bannon reached for his pistol but was frozen. “Not again!”

Tallman placed Bannon’s pistol on the table. “This ability to be aware during time-freeze is rare and to answer another question, your hair-tingly happens when a time portal gateway is opened. This makes you… unique.” Bannon was released.

“Yeah, it’s called Reading Steiner,” Bannon joked.

“Ah, I like you, Bannon. We’ll be seeing you. Soon.”

“And don’t call us ‘time-cops’!” the short man called back as the agents and prisoner stepped into a black slit in the room that disappeared as if a zipper closed.

Bannon’s only consolation was his newfound knowledge of annoying people in multiple centuries.

 

Posted to Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #8: Resolutions 

Part One: The Dead Need No Words

Part Two: Partners

Part Three: Zen Detective

Part Four: Connections

Part Five: The Usual Suspects

Part Six: Larceny of the Heart 

Part Seven: Interviews


Residue

I see the dust lining the edge of this monitor and remember the cause (mostly) of the dead skin cells that are shed every day. Ah, that scie...