Die Writing

Simple works

Posted in Guns of St. Michael by erdaron on March 24, 2011

“Why do you still use revolvers?” The young man asked. Laid out on the table in front of him was a pair of semi-automatics that were taken apart.

“Simple construction. Simple works,” St. Michael replied without looking up. He was methodically wiping down each gun, then loading the cylinders, one shell at a time.

“You got only six shots in each, though. I got fifteen bullets in each clip. That’s a lot of bullets, a lot of fire power.”

“Accurate also works.”

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Spring ashes

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on March 18, 2011


I wrote this on St. Patrick’s Day. Why? Why did I write this on St. Patrick’s Day?


In a certain time of Spring,

Trees will wake

And grass will burst

And flowers bloom.

But then the bright,

The loving sun

Will dry them all

And set them all aflame.

In a certain time of Spring,

The tender, gentle rays

Will scorch you to the core,

Will turn you into ash,

In a certain time of Spring…

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The three sisters

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on March 16, 2011

The three sisters fought. It’s not unusual for siblings to get into fights, especially when they have been around each other for a fantastic length of time, and these three have been around each other since the beginning of time. They were the Fates, and this fight was worse than any before.

Overwhelmed with each other, the Sisters abandoned their threads and left their cave. They burst into the world they have not seen it’s been created, determined that they could make sense of the world, they could save the world from itself. You see, they tend to the threads of Life, but the threads are so infinitely tangled. It’s stressful being the Fates. It’s hard trying to figure out the meaning of an infinite knot. Especially if you have to convince the other two sisters that you are right.

The first Sister, the Beautiful Fate, thought she could merely inspire the world with her presence. If they could only see how beautiful Fate was, they would trust the Universe, and they would find their own way in faith. The people clamored, and mobbed in chaos.

The second Sister, the Clever Fate, thought that the world simply needed to be arranged in better, simpler way. She set about it, but soon she ended up with another, albeit different infinite knot. The people were lost and confused.

But the third Sister, the Sad Fate, did nothing. She sat in a street-side cafe with a glass of dark wine. She looked at people who passed her by and sometimes smiled, but mostly just kept to herself. No one recognized her. Not everyone even smiled back. The Sad Fate knew, that eventually all the odds would even themselves out, and you just had to be patient. There was no rushing the knot. It was untangling itself all along. So she sat by the street, and watched the people go by, and hoped the rain would come soon.

A knife in the dark

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on March 9, 2011

It is a knife in the dark. A cold and merciless blade, free of convictions, qualms, and regrets. It is a dead and wandering gaze, the eyes of a hungry predator. It is a prescient fear, the clear and absolute knowledge of mortal danger in the complete absence of any apparent evidence. The smell of something wrong and terrible is in the air. The breath shortens, the heart quickens, the blood cools. It is a macabre dance of the shadows, ready to welcome another in their midst.

It is a dark and blind alley.

Bury myself

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on March 9, 2011

I want to bury myself in you. I want to fall into your velvet depths. And there, held in your eternal warmth, dissolve amongst the grains of your soft earth. In your graceful embrace, I want to slip into the infinite slumber. And as my body peels away with ages, reduced to little more than memories and echoes, I want to draw my last breath and exhale with the greatest sigh of pleasure and contentment, the ultimate moan of a never-ending euphoria.

And then, on that moment, I will reach through the comfort of your darkness, and turn once again toward the sun, bursting from you in a shower of flowers. Waves of colors and tender petals will emanate from you, pooling into gardens, rivers and eddies of bouquets. There you will stand, amongst the fields of all the flowers, soaked in the sun, at the very center of all my dreams.