A New Prometheus

Sunset. The sky was beginning its daily shift to darkness, the sun clinging desperately to the horizon as the night gods awakened.
The semicircle of small furry creatures bowed their heads to the dirt and grass of the plateau, paying obeisance to their sun through the neolithic ring of vertical stones set into the ground before them. The setting sun cast long shadows, the hands of the gods. A fire burned on an altar as a priest made sacrifice of the day's hunt upon it, shaking bone-beads and carved totems, so that light may again rise upon the plains the furry creatures called home.

I've edited alot of this but it's on my other computer, and I don't feel like transferring it over. This is the oldest draft.
************************************************
As Deep As The Ocean
Book 1 of the Deepest Trilogy

************************************************
Dedicated To Caleb and Allie

To Caleb and Allie.
Thank you guys with all my heart.
You became my inspiration.

Prologue

One day, Ishmael came upon three telephone poles.
They stood along the railroad tracks in line with countless others that ran away into the distance as far as the eye could see.
Ishmael had taken little notice of them as he had traveled on. They had been part of the landscape, rising like crucified trees, bent and splintered, some leaning crazily to one side or the other, black with tar, oil, and smoke, scarred by the wind, sun. rain, and ice, some strung with useless rusting wire, some not, some with cross beams, some without. They rose in the midst of the winterdead weeds that stabbed into the air like spears.

A short story from my upcoming 2nd book, "The Glorious & The Wretched."
_______________________

The ran like a pack of wolves through the night, the larger staggered around the weaker. They glided underneath the steel and stone that towered into the heavens above, the scaffolding that reached up in defiance. They understood that. Faster, they moved like a single organism, the torches in their hands gleaming ever so little in the lower depth of blackness. They needed very little light, and in fact, they preferred it dim.

I. THE ENCOUNTER

I certainly didn’t expect THIS to happen, but that’s always how it goes, isn’t it? In the midst of another insanely crowded Shoreditch steel-wood-and-glass-bar. This awesome girl. She kind of wades forward, smiling, through a vast ocean of faceless, chatty, after-work binge-drinkers. Venus rising from a foam shell. But draped in a scarlet-red, sexy laser-cut cocktail dress. The most staggering face i’ve ever seen. At first I think I’m dreaming, it can’t be me she’s moving towards, smiling at. But she adamantly floats precisely to the place where I’m standing.

she caught his eye straight away, there was no doubt, he really liked the way how she looked, the way how she moved and in general her colours, the whole aura around her was just lovely. it all made perfectly sense and although first signs of ageing on her face got more unforgiving the closer she came to where he casually slouched he could still see the unbroken girl spirit underneath, the power, the determination to make it as a woman in this world, something most other females around forty had lost a long time ago.

1.

swaying down the catwalk like she’s done so many times before in her young life, the photographers’ flashes this time rain down on her like lethal, venomously spitting sniper fire. zoe’s currently presenting the fifth outfit of alexander mcQueens’ superb spring / summer 2006 collection when it all of a sudden dawns on her, that she isn’t at all ready to die. her long stunning legs bend and everything turns black, as she tumbles down the platform she’s thus far walked herself to stardom on. a unified gasp runs through the audience. the soundtrack of mcQueens’ show, a bizarre techno-punk number by one of his latest lovers, abruptly cuts off as if backstage somebody’s head has just been smashed up against the mixing table’s volume control.

(Note: This was originally posted in the Flash Fiction section of The Untitled Forum, and was so composed.)

Parallel Lines

"Is it a penny, or a nickel?" asked Toby, pulling on his boot where it had stuck in the mud of the swampy trail that lined the track.

"A penny, stupid. You don't want to waste a whole nickel." Isabella dug into her pocket and pulled out a small handful of change. "I've got a quarter, too."

"Where'd you get that?"

"Mom."

"She gave it to you?"

Isabella didn't answer, just smiled slyly and slipped the coins back into the pocket of her overalls. "Come on, it's almost time."