Die Writing

Oh music

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on September 25, 2010

Turn up the headphones and let it seep into my veins.

It’s a warm and enveloping feeling, spreading all throughout… Kick back in the chair, close my eyes, sink down into the cushions. Exhale. Drop out.

A faint smile touches on my lips, head bobbing ever so slightly, fingers restlessly tapping out a rhythm. Lips moving, trembling… relax and sink. Let it take over.

Let it take over.

Hold me, oh music, hold me.


Some last advice

Posted in Neuropilot by erdaron on September 22, 2010

The cadets sat silently in their seats. It was the last day at the Academy. It was Transfers Day. Later in the afternoon their first field assignments would be handed out and everyone would start packing for the deep space stations. Needless to say, every cadet was euphoric, totally and absolutely. But no one dared to show any signs of it in front of the Combat Psychology Instructor.

It was an academic title, but the Instructor couldn’t be farther from the ivory towers. Unlike other instructors here – pilots, engineers, doctors – he started out his service as a marine. In the branch of service where fighting was done by machines, he was the only one who’s killed with his bare hands. He almost always chose fatigues over dress uniform, even on this special day. His skin wasn’t so much scarred as calloused. Large stiff hands that could crush bones. A stare that had a palpable, frightful weight. He talked slowly, with few, sometimes too few words.

“Last advice,” he said after a lengthy pause, patiently staring down the class. “Same as I’d give to your enemies. Kill. Kill fast.”

Villainy, part 2

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on September 20, 2010


Maniacal laughter a-plenty.


“Think of the children!”

“With pleasure!”

“I’ve come here to defeat you!”

“No. You’ve come here to die!”

“How can you do these terrible things?!”

“According a simple and elegant plan, of course.”

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A blank wall

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on September 18, 2010

This wall is blank.

Although there are tiny holes from pins in it, where some postcards used to be.  Perhaps the sender and the recipient have parted, and the postcards have been shuffled out of the way.

It also bears some black scuff marks. It seems, some furniture was carelessly moved away.

This wall once reverberated to the sound of an argument. Minuscule beads of sweat are forever embedded in it, traces of a passionate surrender. A forgotten waft of perfume is entangled in its tiny pores.

Perhaps, this wall is not entirely blank.


Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on September 15, 2010


1. the actions or conduct of a villain; outrageous wickedness

(from dictionary.com)

Outrageous wickedness!

Sooo wicked

“You are not going to get away with this!”

“I’m not going to… because I already have!”

“You are so dastardly!”

“Am I? Or am I just too brilliant for my so-called peers? … The answer is all of the above.”

“How can you do this to us?!”

“With gusto!”

The Devil and the Musicians, part 4

Posted in The Devil and the Musicians by erdaron on September 7, 2010


Sometimes you can’t help but write.

Have a drink

The Musicians were played loose, fast, furious. Their fingers were running wild over the strings. They were playing the kind of music that leads you both in a dance, and you can simply close your eyes in its rhythmic bliss. The Violinist stepped down the stage, playing with such intensity that flames seemed to leap off the strings. No human instrument could survive this music.

When the Woman entered, leaned against the frame to watch the Violinist. He knew she was here. The slightest hint of her fragrance, the thinnest of her shadow was all he needed to know. He smiled, and started on the song’s last verse. As she came closer, a few of the patrons stood up, clearing a table near the stage. She sat down at the table. A waiter glided by, setting down two glasses of red wine.

The last note rang, the Violinist hung up the bow and the violin, nodded to the rest of the Musicians, and stepped off the stage. The band began the next song.

The Violinist and the Woman sat across from each other in silence. He smiled, and she was beautiful. The song went on, winding through verses and lines.

“Just one song,” said the Devil.

“I know,” said the Violinist almost inaudibly.

The song was nearing the end. The Violinist kissed the air, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

The last notes struck. The Violinist peered at the Woman, desperately trying to remember every bit of her.

An unseen force pressed on his chest, pushing him away from the table. He tried to grab the table. The force pressed harder and threw him at the steps at the bottom of the stage.

“Thank you,” he whispered for the Woman through the tears, as she stood up and started walking toward the door.

In another instant, he was back on the stage, huddled, picking up his violin.

The Devil smiled bitterly.

A post-apocalyptic conversation about bananas

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on September 6, 2010


This is down right reprehensible.

Peel out

“Hey, you got anything to eat?”

“I got some bananas. You want some?”


“Yeah man. I have crates and crates of bananas and nothing else.”

“Look, is this a joke? I haven’t eaten in two days. The whole place is fucked, and you’re sitting here on a pile of fresh bananas?”

“That’s exactly how it is. I got a refrigerator trailer that’s full of bananas. And it runs on solar, so it won’t shut off.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“How do you think I feel? I haven’t eaten anything but bananas for two weeks!”

“You better not be screwing with me!”

“I smell like bananas all day now. I’m pretty sure if I ever make it through this, everything will taste like bananas for the rest of my life. How do you think I feel? I’m losing my goddam mind!”

“Fuck you man, I’m leaving.”

“Eat some of my bananas!”

“Fuck off! I have a gun!”

“Please, please for the love God and everything holy eat some of my bananas!”

“Stop following me!”

Both exit left