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How long does it take for my book The Secret Santa take to be listed as a book?

2015-12-03T17:25:33+00:00

How long will it take for my book The Secret Santa to be listed after posting it?

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2015-11-26T06:42:47+00:00

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2015-11-26T06:41:59+00:00

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I've attempted a blog and been locked twice

2015-11-19T02:13:44+00:00

I have attempted a blog post twice. The first time, I was locked out almost immediately and had to close the editor box(i couldn't navigate out any other way). No big deal I hadn't even started writing yet...The second time though. I had almost finished my first blog post and it did it again. A grey overlay comes up and covers my blog with a big red X in the top right corner. I can't do anything except close out of the editor. I was still optimistic, I went to the history bar in the right side of the blog screen when I reopened it. There shows two blog post at 2:01 am(weird since they were attempted several hours apart), but I can't even see if my drafts are there. Can someone please help? I really don't want to keep having to rewrite an introduction again and again. The last one was really shaping up to be a good one too....:{ Oh and there isn't an appropriate category to select so I chose author of the month...

How do I remove books that are listed?

2015-11-09T11:22:44+00:00

How do I remove books that are listed?

Problems

2015-11-07T14:00:49+00:00

Problems navigating site, just made my profile yet I can't see it. I need help please and thank you.

How can I be considered for author of the month and/or an author interview

2015-07-29T17:34:43+00:00

Hi. I'd like to be included as the author of the month or do an interview. How do I get considered?

I completed and submitted your Author form. Will you notify me when I am included on this site? Andy Rose, debut novel: LILY'S PAYBACK

2015-06-09T16:48:11+00:00

I completed and submitted your Author form. Will you notify me when I am included on this site? Andy Rose, debut novel: LILY'S PAYBACK

Where do I enter my social media links?

2014-11-20T20:48:57+00:00

I don't see anywhere where I can designate my social media contacts. Am I just missing something or is it not here? Thanks!

How do I add book listings?

2015-04-25T14:54:55+00:00

In my profile, under listings, it says no entries found. How do I add entries?

Book Listing

2015-04-10T19:10:09+00:00

I added my book: The Essence on 4-9-15 but I don't see it yet. How long does it take to post?

Book listing

2015-04-10T11:20:30+00:00

how to edit a listing

The Darkness Within

2013-10-01T13:50:05+00:00

The Darkness Within [img]/images/photos/19/364/28d9821dcecd3b84b17e4ff3.jpg[/img] By: Robert Friedrich Published by: Robert Friedrich on Smashwords

Swarmers

2013-10-02T19:57:10+00:00

SWARMERS It wasn’t as if anyone got hurt. It had to be done. What I knew could do a lot more damage if I kept my feet heading the hell out of town. So what will they say of me once the smoke clears? Once the truth rears its pretty head? I don’t know that yet. This train whistles its hard steel through a runaway night to a destination that may be unknown to none but me and I don’t care. Oh, sure, if they knew, they’d heap enough medals on my chest to bring this crazy man down to his knees, but I didn’t do it for the honor and glory. I got all that crap in high school football. Yeah, me, Craigville’s Touchdown King, the reason for the season, the golden boy who caught and carried that freaking ball like a mother clasps her baby and races out of a fire. I was lifted on too many shoulders to count. I was written up as the wonder lad who brought Craigville the state trophy for a year without one single loss. My life after that was one huge lesson in the meaning of anticlimactic. I plunged like a stone. The future for this most-likely-to-succeed favorite son looked bright as a summer Sunday, but out there loomed more closed doors than I care to remember. In a nutshell, I was a man without a future. I had used it all up on the field, eaten up those hero desserts, and ended up sick on the “laurel flu“: that malady that tells you all coming treasures will be handed to you while your ass grows large and fat on the throne of your own royal ego trip. Up to a point, before becoming the proverbial frog-once-prince guy, life was a fairy tale. I had it all. I had married the Valentine Queen Jessica Ewing; we had two blond-haired cherubs named Montgomery and Ward. A house on Sterling Drive. A his and her garage occupied with his and her BMW’s. Yeah, I had it all.Then came the other women.Then came the booze and the recreational powders up my nose. A good job at Merrill Lynch pulled from under my wobbly feet. Jessica’s final exit. Monty and Ward with her. How many nights and days I spent on my knees begging God to snatch my life from me. Let me keel over on the brink of my own sorrow and plummet into the abyss of forgetfulness. But the same God who answered my touchdown dreams as I ran towards the goal line did not answer my put-down dream of a quick and painless demise. Custodian or janitor –– call me whatever the hell you want –– I reported for work each evening at town hall where I emptied ash trays, trashed the trash, scrubbed toilet bowls, swabbed the wooden floors, dusted, made all things clean for another new day. But all that is history. I tell it so you know what “end of my rope” means, in case you think my act was one of heroism. In case you make the mistake of believing I did what I did to win your approval, crown myself “Craigville’s Comeback Kid.” None of that would be true. I did it because I figured, if my life mattered so little to me, who better than I to die saving those who wanted to live? The first time I noticed a termite in the basement of town hall it was about the size of a praying mantis. A single termite that seemed glued to the crossbeam above my head that I happened to notice when I looked up to check the flickering florescent light. To be honest the bug startled me. I never saw one that large before and God knows I’d seen my share of those wood eaters from the time I was a kid and they had infested Grampa’s cabin in the woods where we kids spent summer nights with him. In the end Grampa had to hire a bulldozer because those bugs had eaten enough of the cabin to cause the support beams to soften and bend like paper maché. But they were little termites having themselves a community feast, committed to doing what they do best. But not even a fool has-been like me who had often drunk too much rye or inhaled a thumbprint of the white to maybe see things out of proportion could deny the termite in the town hall basement was out of its size class. And those antennae, straight ahead of its head, looked scary, and those black wings, hardly moving at all, seemed poised for flight. I watched I ran like hell, locked the basement door, and for the next week my nightmare sleep crawled with a troop of those bugs parading on my clothes, burrowing into my hair, screeching down the gray streets of my dreams. A week later, after reading up on termites at Craigville’s Public Library, I braved another walk down the basement stairs. I wish I hadn’t. Now the white-painted crossbeams was spotted with colonies of swarmers, most without wings. Maybe like the book says, they shed them after leaving their underground tunnels. Shaken by this new turn of events, I kept my spine pressed against the banister so I could race upstairs if one of them dropped from the wood. Then I realized the worst of it: the termites were much larger than the first one I had discovered! They humped on one another in an attempt to cover all visible parts of the crossbeams, but here and there I could see loners and they were huge. Praying mantis? Try frogs! What the hell was going on? As custodian of the building, I had often seen the termiticide boys come each month with their silver hoses spraying the corners and the beams and anywhere they suspected these bugs would congregate. What had they been spraying? Whatever chemical it was, somehow it was working in reverse: instead of minimizing their voracious appetites by killing most of them, it was maximizing their size! Who could I tell? What could be done? When I checked my own house, I was relieved to find no termites anywhere. The same for some of the other houses. My father’s. Aunt Emma’s. The silo center where my neighbor Fenton worked. Why only in town hall? What if I told the mayor or the councilmen and they came to find nothing out of the ordinary in that basement? What if the beams looked like white supports and all those big boys with their chomping mandibles were not there? For sure I’d lose my job on grounds that my d.t.’s made me an unreliable custodian. I’d end up on Georgia Road with the rest of the unshaven, smelly homeless begging for loose change. So I kept it quiet for as long as I could. Then one night I was watching the boob tube and something caught my eye and ear. A UFO enthusiast who looked a lot like Albert Einstein except his hair was even whiter than the e=mc2 whiz. The man’s name was Dr. Franklin Birch and he was an authority on UFO’s, he said. Sightings, he claimed, were more numerous than the media reported, and he even implicated the government for hushing them up. The interviewer wanted to know the latest. “What’s new up there?” he asked the old man. “A month ago several sky events in this very area,” he said in a pronounced British accent. Oh?” “Yes,” replied the Einstein look-alike. “Not unusual. These beings from wherever they originate come to new worlds and they take on the environment.” The interviewer dressed his face with one of those smiles mental-institution personnel keep on hand. “Take on the environment? You mean extraterrestrials wear disguises?” “They blend in,” said Dr. Birch. “If they can fly their ships into our space, it would be safe to assume they are intelligent beings, perhaps much more than we are.” Now the interviewer was giggling like a school girl. “And you think, Dr. Birch, that these intelligent creatures from out of space might want to come here and take over or they’re on a Sunday drive and just want to hang out?” The UFO expert wasn’t amused. “We don’t know. Our intelligence is lacking for now. Maybe one day we’ll know. Hopefully, it won’t be too late.” Then the interviewer summed it all up before going to commercial. “You folks out there, if you see anything unusual, something unidentified, contact Dr. Franklin Birch at the Institute for Scientific Development in Atlanta.” Which I did. What could I hope to gain by keeping my mouth shut? I had returned to the basement several times and the scene was the same with one variation: the town-hall termites were growing in number and size. Last I looked they were big as cats! And yet they remained in the basement and did not attempt to storm the door that led out of the basement, nor did they eat the wooden beams that kept the town hall on its legs. When I told it all to the old man who kept in his head rows of file cabinets crammed with UFO trivia, he was ecstatic. Of course he could come to Craigville. Of course he would drive out tomorrow. Of course. Of course. I led him down the basement stairs, not knowing what to expect since my last visit two days before. You better have a strong heart, old man, because what you are about to see will knock your socks off. I don’t know CPR. All I know is you’re in for a horror shock, that’s for sure. But when we reached the end of the eighteen steps, Dr.Birch surveyed the termite-infested basement, nodded, and said, “I see. I see.” “What’s causing this?” I asked. “Why are they growing?” The old scientist cupped his bearded jaw.The termites were so still the scene appeared like a dark clip from a horror film.Now and then I could detect the rise and fall of antennae as if these creatures were conversing with one another, maybe asking who the old guy was or what the hell these two inferior beings intended to do. “This is not the first time I’ve come across giant termites,” said Birch. Ok, so now you’ll make light of it all and explain how your grampa like mine had a cellar filled with –– “Termites larger even than these,” he was saying. “Years and years ago when I first left London for America. In an abandoned house on the outskirts of a small town like yours. Somewhere in Tennessee.They had grown into dog-size insects! Incredible!” “Why don’t they attack us? Why aren’t they eating the wood?” “Good questions. Perhaps they’re waiting for their growth to reach full potential. Who knows. If we leave them alone, will they grow tall as men or trees or buildings like this one? If I could even entertain a logical reply, I would.” “What happened at the end?” “In Tennessee?” he asked. I nodded. “Somebody concocted some rather hard moonshine. Who can say how potent. Enough to kill an army of drinking men. They hosed down the termites and set fire to the building and the entire grounds down several feet where it stood.” “Booze?” I asked. Now for sure I’d stay far from the spirits. “Isn’t that ingenious? Hard alcohol. What else could these moonshiners envision more murderous than that? But it worked. Now it seems they’re back. But oddly enough they have settled in a small town that boasts not even one liquor store for miles and miles. Not one bar or saloon or beer joint or whatever. For years the press has heralded Craigville’s noble reputation of being a dry town since it was incorporated back in the 1800s. Why not come here? They could mature and then do their business, which I suspect is not to announce to the world that they have come in peace. For some reason their intelligence identifies unswerving determination to conquer with the lowly termite they have been raised to new heights. Before they grow even larger than they already have, my good man, I say we drive somewhere wet and load up on some heart-stopping mountain brew!” Had it been all mine to solve, this dilemma would have gone beyond the pale. Those bugs would have reached their size limit and devoured Craigville in minutes. Then, having laid more eggs than sane men would care to go hunting for, these mighty termites would lay waste a nation! But I had Birch and Birch had an unswerving determination that rivaled that of these foreigners from out there in space, except his drive was to drive them to kingdom come or wherever extraterrestrials in bug’s clothing go when they die. We had no time to waste. Once my truck was loaded with poison shine, as Dr. Birch dubbed it, we drove back into Georgia and into Craigville, praying the colonies hadn’t left the basement and we’d find a prairie of ashes where once good people lived. The town hall was filled with people, not unusual for an early Monday afternoon. Alongside the good doctor, I told Mayor McGowan to clear the building. Of course, he gave that haughty look folks like to spring on custodians, but when I told him what was in the basement, he just laughed. He tried to pat my shoulder, but I pulled away. “Giant termites, you say? And they are ready to eat Craigville? You saw them with your own eyes? Was that after a few swigs from a bottle of Jim Beam?” “I’ll take you down and show you, Mayor,” I said, “but give me your word you won’t let fright drop you dead. These bugs are ugly!” I had to clear the building. There was no comfort zone where time could be laid aside and tended to at a later date. We had run out of time. Red rivers would run through dry Craigville if we didn’t act fast. The mayor threw up on his shiny Florsheim shoes, then nearly fainted down the basement steps, but the doctor and I grabbed his arms, slapped his face, brought him finally to, his popping eyes rolling to and from the back of his head. “Do it! Do it!” he screamed from a foul-smelling mouth. “Kill them!” I told him to get upstairs and order everybody to evacuate town hall and clear the area for at least several blocks. “Don’t tell them why,“ I said. “Panic’s not what we need right now. It might even wake up the swarmers.“ I didn’t want anybody getting hurt, not by chomping termites, not by stampeding town hallers. So we hosed down the creatures from another world, then from outside town hall we lit the end of a long fuse that snaked its way from where we stood hoping hard, through the open door of the building and down the basement steps where the poison shine covered the floor a good inch thick. When the flames engulfed the building, it looked like a war zone.We even heard the screeching cries of the termites and imagined them writhing their black-shelled bodies in a grotesque dance of death. Later, teams of public-works crews dug the grounds several feet deep and planted more poison shine to light with torches. I got my job back once the new town hall was built months later. Well, not my old job but my new promotion job of city councilman and public works director. Oh, and I got Jessica back, just in time for Montgomery and Ward to start school at Craigville Elementary. My life’s back in order. Knock on wood.On second thought, don’t. It might just be enough to invite that old gang back from somewhere in the dark black skies. # This story first appeared in The Criterion: An International Journal in English, (issue 2, number 1). http://www.the-criterion.com. (April 2011). Sal Buttaci is a former English instructor at a local community college and middle-school teacher in New Jersey, he retired in 2007 to commit himself to full-time writing. His collection of flash fiction FLASHING MY SHORTS is available in book, e-book, and audio book versions[url= http://www.amazon.com/Flashing-My-Shorts-Salvatore-Buttaci/dp/0984259473 ] http://www.amazon.com/Flashing-My-Shorts-Salvatore-Buttaci/dp/0984259473[/url] His latest collection of short-short fiction, 200 SHORTS, is available in book and Kindle editions at [url=http://www.amazon.com/200-Shorts-Salvatore-Buttaci/dp/0984639241/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1314991699&sr=1-1 ]http://www.amazon.com/200-Shorts-Salvatore-Buttaci/dp/0984639241/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1314991699&sr=1-1[/url] He lives happily ever after with his wife Sharon in West Virginia.

Devil In Disguise

2013-10-06T03:28:29+00:00

Why did I go with the girls to the pub this night? Knew he was ‘the one’ the proverbial knight in shining armor, the man of my dreams the moment he took my hand, gazed into my eyes, smiled so seductively and placed a peck on my slender neck. Who’d have guessed my fortune, body aching, tongue removed, blood dripping from a hundred slashes; unable to free myself from the cold metal restraints attached to wrists and ankles. Worst is the suffocating heat, salty bits of perspiration intensify the pain as they drip into open wounds. Last gasp of fire enters my lungs. Author: Monica M. Brinkman, 2013

Sphera

2013-10-01T13:40:11+00:00

[b]S p h e r a[/b] [img]http://authorsinfo.com/index.php?option=com_easydiscuss&controller=attachment&task=displayFile&tmpl=component&id=2&Itemid=259[/img] Flash story from Enlightened by Darkness Vol.3 As Darkness Spreads (Anthology) By Robert Friedrich Published by Robert Friedrich at Smashwords Copyright 2013 by Robert Friedrich Cover copyright 2013 by Robert Friedrich All rights reserved Life and reality exist but as a fraction of what we actually perceive. If we explore deep enough, we would witness the true nature of things. No matter how dark they would be. A woman sits alone in an arm chair inside her small apartment. The TV is on but she pays no attention. Seemingly nothing can disturb her concentration as she stares at a crack in the wall. Her left eyeball begins to move rapidly in all matter of directions. Her sudden scream breaks the trance state she was in. She lifts her hands to cover the eye as she falls from the couch to her knees. Blood starts to drip on the carpet passing the tiny spaces between her fingers. She pants as she removes her blood covered hands. More blood drips as her left eye continues to vibrate and move violently. Suddenly her eyeball rips itself from her skull, dislodging itself from all nerve connections and floats before her. The shocked woman disbelieves the event as she stares at her eyeball that is now floating before her. The organic composition of the floating eyeball begins to disintegrate and fall apart, only to reveal a small black metallic sphere. As she is trying to focus on with her right eye, the sphere starts to rotate. While rotating in the air and defying gravity the orb increases its speed more and more. Escalating speed prompts to generate a low pitched sound. The spinning intensifies till it begins to emit small fiery sparks. The force which keeps it spinning creates an invisible vortex in the air. Small and light objects as paper and hair pins start to float towards that strange swirl. The force keeps on increasing as the blood from the woman’s wound commence to float towards it as well. The fiery sparks strengthen both in occurrence and length. The ever increasing speed seems to be without end. The sound becomes louder as the sparks become bigger. Unexpectedly the sparks form into fiery lashes and begin to whip the entire surrounding. The TV gets sliced in half; the walls start to show burn marks, she is marked by deep lacerations on her face and body. More and more of her blood floats towards the orb which lashes everything in its surrounding. The woman tries to run but gets lashed over and over at her feet and back. She falls a few steps from where she was as her couch gets sliced to pieces. Tears from her right eye float towards the sphere and mix with the blood while it spins. The sphere manages to stop its spin in an instant, and just floats there. The absence of sound induces an almost tangible fear. Loud pitched sound kills the silence, shrieking and echoing all around. Sparks burst in all directions preceding and explosion of immense force. The force obliterates everything inside the apartment, only the walls, windows and doors remain unaffected. The apartment remains intact; but empty and hollow. Even the crack in the wall endures as complete silence fills the empty apartment. Right before another scream echoes from the neighboring apartment. The End

The Nameless

2013-10-01T13:32:51+00:00

The Nameless [img]http://authorsinfo.com/index.php?option=com_easydiscuss&controller=attachment&task=displayFile&tmpl=component&id=1&Itemid=259[/img] short story from Enlightened by Darkness Vol. 2 The Invasion (Anthology) By Robert Friedrich Published by Robert Friedrich on Smashwords The Nameless short story from Enlightened by Darkness Vol. 2 The Invasion (Anthology) Copyright 2013 by Robert Friedrich Cover Copyright 2013 by Robert Friedrich A little boy is playing and laughing with his sister in the back seat of a car. The mother in the front seat enjoys the atmosphere and beside her the father is steering the car through a mountain road. They all look happy on this family trip. The sun is shining and bright light streams into the car. As it dazzles the boy, the father loses control of the car. The boy only hears the sound of a loud horn. I don’t know if that is a dream, a memory or something else. It’s the only thing I remember besides waking up in this dark city. I don’t even know how I got here, who I was before; I don’t even know my name. All I have is the number 47. That’s how they have called me in the hospital I awoke in few weeks ago. It probably means my age or something, I am not a child, and I know that. Even though, the last memory before this place seems to come from my childhood. The official word around is that the planet was destroyed in a Nuclear War and this city is the only remaining safe place. Other survivors from scared wastelands got their memory damaged by radiation or some bullshit like that. I don’t even want to get into the complexity of half the things they told me here. But there are others, far too many others, which tell different things. Specifically the one in control of this city brainwashes people to restrain them easily. I don’t know whom to believe, I just follow what resonates with me. And what I feel especially is that if this is the only city left to man, it should not be run by a Dictator sitting somewhere up in his Citadel. Using fear and oppression and the help of his private army to control the city and manipulate its people. I don’t even remember when the last time I saw the sun. Strange, it does not shine through the clouds here; all we get is darkness and rain. The only time I see the sun is when I think about that dream or whatever it is. But what puzzles me is the girl that appears at times by my side. I keep seeing her around the city. Always among people, she stands there with her long black hair in the rain. Her face is obscured by a shadow and her blue dress is dirty and drenched. I see her just for a second, for when I blink, or look away she vanishes into obscurity. It’s like she is there and not there, as if I could see simultaneous existences. And I feel her; she is watching and looking out for me. I chose to believe in freedom, that is why I became part of the Resistance. Even if I didn’t fully understand a lot of things, I am here now; confused from the blood of the dead soldiers, since I am not the one that killed them. The plan was simple, most of the Resistance would create havoc and riots in different parts of the city thus spreading out and thinning the enemy lines. Me and my small company would then infiltrate the armory, take out any enemy soldiers that stayed behind. Half of my company would take loaded trucks to the entrance of the Presidential Citadel Palace, while the rest of my group would go from below the ground through the sewers. We would all eventually meet up at the fortified palace, storm the wall and gate and fight our way in, capture that sack of shit Dictator and free this city. It was all going according to plan, my comrades got to the armory and we were about to take out the small company of soldiers that got left behind. There was a noise; a strange static noise before the soldiers started to panic. Next thing we knew they were all dead, as if a grenade exploded among them. Their bodies were torn apart and liquefied. Yet there was no sign of any explosives detonating. It was strange, confusing and deranged. Yet my company wanted to continue as planned. They garrisoned trucks that we loaded with weapons and sent them off to the rendezvous point. I and two other men stayed behind to go to the Citadel using the sewers. We didn’t know about the sewer search patrol though, they were looking for the Resistance. We were outmanned and outgunned. There was no way around them as they were covering the only ladder leading to the right sewer junction. Out of nowhere, a fiery like vortex or wormhole opened up above the soldiers. I had no idea how or why or even exactly what it was. My company was as speechless as me; we watched the vortex suck air, the soldiers and even parts of the guardrails and metal into before disappearing again. It seemed that it was only me afterwards that heard a little girl’s voice say “You are Safe Now!” once the vortex had disappeared. We had no time to spare anymore, the fighting on the road was intensifying and we had to hurry through the sewers to join the fight. The smell and the rain water complicated our progress but eventually we made it. It looked that the rain was getting heavier and heavier as the fighting increased. The Citadel was heavily fortified and the defense wall around had many platforms and a full arsenal. There were casualties on both sides as we kept on pushing. Even though it was the first time for me to hold a machine gun, or at least first time I can remember. It felt natural. Many enemy soldiers fell as we kept pushing on. Our reinforcements finally arrived and we managed to destroy the defensive platforms and breached the front gate in the wall. Finally it was time to storm the Citadel and to end this bloodshed. The plan was right on track, and then I got shot in my lower abdomen. The pain was immense and I could not even stand. It struck me down. I was hearing my own piercing voice in an excruciating tone while bleeding. The blood on my hands was mixing with the heavy rain. I knew I was going to die there as more and more enemy soldiers were pouring out of the Citadel. Amidst the fighting and our relentless enemy, out of nowhere the little girl appeared. Something though was different. She stood there among the enemy soldiers, and this time everyone could see her and everyone was just startled. She began to change, twitch and twist as a black veil engulfed her, defying the rain and scene. She transfigured before our very eyes. Her straight long black hair got longer and turned to thick cable like dreads. They were smooth and had sharp ends. Her blue dress turned into a black veil like dress with a thick black aura. It covered her body from under her shoulders till the feet. Only the shoulders and neck were still pale skin. Her hands changed as well, as if she was wearing gloves with long claw tips. The veiling black dress encircled her body like a skin. Yet the aura made it more obscure. Her face disappeared behind a metal face mask. It covered only her face and part of her head; the mask had no eye sockets or openings for a nose or even a mouth. It was like a straight sheet of metal, plain and complex, though I could feel that she was looking at me. The enemy soldiers out of fear tried to resume the fighting and opened fire. That was not only useless but futile as well. She had some kind of strong psychokinetic powers. For she didn’t even move, the bullets never reached her. They just disintegrated in midair. I could only sit on the wet floor as I witnessed her unleashed rage. My company didn’t know what to do either. Enemy soldiers were flying through the air like ragdolls. Blood was gushing everywhere as they were dismembered, split in half or ripped to bits before our very eyes. Some of them she just threw around, smacking them into walls or ground. The pouring rain was mixing with blood more and more as nothing could harm or stop her. Some soldiers tried to run away, they were crushed by their own vehicles she threw at them. Nothing and no one could match her power. Suddenly, for the first time she started to walk. She walked among the remains of the soldiers she just butchered. One soldier she tossed was still alive and tried to fire whilst aiming at her. She just ripped him to bits in the blink of an eye. Next thing I knew she was standing before me and was looking down right into my eyes. The aura around her back started to vibrate and created a glittering shimmer as two wings swiftly formed on her back. They were not angel wings, for she was no angel. I could not think straight and was both scared and calm. She stretched out her arm towards me, as if she wanted to hold my hand. I could hear her voice in my head; it was soft and comforted me. I held on to her hand and trusted her. A pistol was lying not far and she made it float towards me. I grabbed it with my other hand. The rest of the Resistance didn’t know what to do and just stood there silently as she helped me to my feet. She put her hands around me and held me tight. Once I have regained most of my balance she lifted us up and held me as we flew to the top of the Citadel. The Dictator was on the roof with his bodyguards as we landed there. I can only guess he was waiting for something to take him away before we appeared atop the platform. He was shocked and surprised to see us and his men didn’t hesitate to open fire. Their bullets though could not stop us, for she was there with me. This time all the bullets stopped in midair before us. Right before she simply disintegrated them. The enemy soldiers were shocked and about to reload. Just like that in a blink of an eye she tossed them all off the platform. Bodies rained down among the water as the Dictator faced us alone. In panic or just pure stupidity he tried to grab a gun, but all he could witness was the gun melt away. He stood there alone, so I raised my hand with the pistol. Everything became clear for me at that time, as all what happened, happened for this moment. I had a clear shot and I decided to take it. My wound kept on bleeding as I cocked the pistol. Suddenly a gunship appeared from behind the Citadel and aimed straight at us. She just simply looked and in that very moment the pilot was ripped from his chair and tossed through the windshield into the rotating blade that kept the gunship steady beside the platform. Like paper she tore it to multiple pieces before it exploded not far from us. The light from the explosion lit up the scene. Water droplets were breaking on the pistol as I took aim and fired at the Dictator. The bullet penetrated his chest. He stood there in shock and disbeliefs, before tripping over his own leg and plummeted down. Weak yet satisfied I fell to my knees. It was finally over. I dropped the gun. Unexpectedly the rain began to ease down more and more before it finally died out. She stood there all the time with me, but then she took a few steps forward and turned to face me once again. As she stood there and kept looking down at me, the clouds gradually began to clear out and it seemed as if finally sunlight would pass. And so it did, slowly but surely it began to shine through the dark clouds. I could hear the voices, cheers and screams from the Resistance below us. I kept on looking up to her, even though I might not see her face, I felt it. I felt her gaze through that sheet of cold metal. She raised her hands slowly and grabbed that metal face cover she had. The clouds were passing more and more as she finally removed it. She had no face below the mask, only a bright light shined from where a face should have been. The light passing from the clouds and her face engulfed me whole. A small boy awakes from a coma in a hospital bed. He looks around, sees his parents and finds his sister sleeping beside him while holding his hand firmly. He scans the room more and notices a report on the TV across. He can’t hear it but can read the line; “Boy still in coma 7 weeks after family car accident.” In that moment his sister awakens and begins to weep in joy to see him conscious. The End

What do you think about my style of poetry?

2010-12-10T17:21:29+00:00

this is delano johnson thanks so much first of all and i do it as raw and as real as i can i try not to edit to much i like to give it to u as i have seen with my own life and sometimes i even drop a tear reading my own lines and i feel if they touch a nerve in my cold hart then some one out there can feel it to.. tell me what you think http://dclovetalk101.blogspot.com/