Stopping at a stream he knelt and drank, long slow draws from the cold water, water that fed the earth, fed him. I am the night, I am the earth, I am the power he thought, all the power in the universe. He had forgotten just how good it felt to run, feeling his powerful muscles move him along. Feeling his lungs exercise and work for a change. He pushed his body hard, only to have it respond by wanting more. It felt good, so he ran.

***

The cold morning sun spilled lazily across his legs, entwined in the sheets of his bed. His body looked as if it had been wrenched from the night, twisted and mangled like so much of a rag doll tossed aside by a child outgrowing innocence. With the slow realization of morning creeping into his consciousness, Albert began to join the world of the living. As the sunlight that so gently played upon his face crept into his mind he sat up with a start; realizing he was late; he must have over slept.

He turned and looked about the room in a panic, wondering how he could have slept so late. He threw back the knotted sheets and swung his feet to the floor and it was then that true realization set in, a stark and rude awareness brought on by the sight of mud and dirt on his legs and feet. As he tore his eyes from his lower extremities, moving to his hands he saw more of the dark red clay filled mud.

Horror. He could feel the horror rise from the pit of his stomach, rising to the hard knot now forming in his throat. He could scarcely believe it had happened. He had let it out last night, had let loose the monster. How could it have happened? He had been so careful, what went wrong? He would have to figure out what mistakes he had made, after being so careful and proper. So long had he lived without making any mistakes. So long had the monster been caged; bound and gagged within his soul.

He could not dwell on this, not at this very moment, it was over. Morning was upon him and he was late for class. If he had any hope of keeping a semblance of his life, fortifying that normalized front that was oh so important to him, he had to get to the University. Showering at a breakneck pace, water pouring on him so hot it nearly burned the skin from his bones, as if he thought he could rid himself of his burden this way. His memories were ravaged by his brain trying to decipher the night before. He came up empty handed, with no clue as to what had transpired through the night. His only comfort was in the absence of blood on his person, sheets and clothing remnants. At least, he thought, maybe no one had died this time. Hastily Albert dressed, grabbed his bag and slammed the door behind him, rushing for his car.

I go where I am taken
Till wind comes to blow again
To new places I call home

Copyright © 2007, All Rights Reserved

A beautiful woman to be sure, gorgeous even, called “hot” by many a man.  More than looks she had intelligence and talent.  She knows how to work what she has, as well as how to work the crowd.  She would have whomever she chose eating out of her hand in minutes. This was in part because she was that good, but also because guys are stupid and think with the wrong head more often than not, which made them easy marks.

For her, it was a game.  She lost the lust for love long ago, and now she was a machine, a machine seeking revenge against the male half of the species for all women scorned.  It had become more than just revenge for every wrong doing against her, every late night braggart taking her heart and feelings freely given and leaving behind cold desperate emptiness.  She was now in her mind an equalizer, hurting them before they could hurt anyone else.

The routine was almost that, people don’t change and patterns develop.  Late nights at the clubs and parties, revealing clothing, caught glances, pouting lips mouthing wanted words, quick getaway to some private place, and finally the finale before the escape.

It was all too easy, men were far too trusting, just as she had been some time in the past.  Simple application of college chemistry to fabricate the killer concoction.  Applied to her lips above a protective coating meant she didn’t even have to undress, she could kill without so much as damaging her modesty.  Well, except for one encounter where her mark refused to kiss her, a superstition or  some such nonsense.  No matter, it didn’t save him.  There are other areas where men put faith in a womans lips, and there the poison works just as well.

So here it is my brothers, a warning to you all.  If you are out working the scene, hunting a night of anonymous pleasure.  Be wary when she offers herself to you, for if it is this huntress that I have spoken of, this might just be the truth that really is too good, too good to be true.

Silicone systems synching bits and bytes across the bus,
Dumping data downloads user not unlike one of us,
Relays regard registers transistors transition types,
Broken busted bent data comes pouring pounding past pipes,
Cpu’s cogitate copious binary bitstorms,
Drives deliver details while ram resists refuted rest,
Display adapters draw dainty pictures put upon protons,
Animated angles acquired picture pretty photons.

Copyright © 2007, All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2006, All Rights Reserved

Mary had a little lamb,
It’s fleece was black as soot,
Everywhere that Mary went,
The sooty foot he put.

Aah, those were the days!