Haiku 5


Sudden fluttering
taken to the sky like a
pale wingbeat heartbeat

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Sharpening IV (prelude)

Image
The assassin shifted his grip on the hilt, ready to strike, stepped towards the Master. The cowled neck was within reach. His breathing slowed, his mind raced. The crimson figure did not flinch or retreat. It did not move at all. Moment of hesitation: is this creature untouchable? Is it paralyzed with fear? Why does it not react? The Master leered down at the assassin, thrusting that long neck forward. “Decide,” the voice intoned. Before even his eyes could betray him, the assassin whirled his blade in a hissing arc. Its edge devoured the space between, hit something hard, and slid through flesh. But it wasn’t the Master’s neck. Faster than the Chimera himself a crimson arm had shot up in a bar against the Master’s head. The blade jarred against a hidden metal guard, slid along the smooth surface till it slipped past, biting into the soft tissues of a mortal forearm. Immediately there was the twang of wires. Something slammed into the Chimera’s spine, and through hi...
Read more

The Sharpening I (prelude)

The assassin skidded to halt in the darkness. Squinting into the black depths of this raw rock chamber revealed nothing but the silhouettes of the pillars holding up its sloping vault. Yet he knew the three who pursued him were lurking just out of sight. Over the pounding of blood in his temples he could just barely make out the creak of leather as the hunters shifted position. The sound was so subtle he might have imagined it, and its location was nearly impossible to determine. Nearly, but not quite. Not for one of the Chimera. He focused inward, slipping into a deep reserve of practiced calm. He became intensely aware of every fibre of his being, until he was as one with each of the systems at work within his body. He inhaled. Samatha. Entering the Ocean. The assassin allowed his consciousness to expand until it merged with every sensation brushing against his skin; with the air streaming into his lungs, and with the tiny pressures playing against his eardrums. Xa’ka-Tur. Ripples A...
Read more