Missing Pieces

A puzzle missing pieces is forever fated to be negated.

Somewhere among the missing pieces recovered in the fire they discovered another empire

If missing pieces are hidden for posterity they loose their familiarity

Missing pieces can be found in common places like the ground Sometimes they are a telling sound

Every mystery has a key or two, missing pieces that can give a clue. Possibly a chance for a breakthrough.

There are missing pieces in my memory due to PTSD. I am no longer the man I use to be. Yet somehow, I’m happy.

Steps To Serenity

100 words –

Close your eyes and think about where you want to be. See what you want to see. What makes you happy?

Allow peace to settle upon your soul like a warm blanket in the winter.

Visions of eternity compete with reality, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find serenity. It’s there, deep inside like a splinter.

Let your inner being be serene, and dream. Everything isn’t as it may seem. Our life is a mystery, our roots long lost in history. We each have a story.

The road to happiness runs from desire to the heart whose destiny is serenity.

A God Among Men

600 words –

As you’re my witness, this is my letter of intent:

“I, Thane Greyson, being of sound mind (regardless of what they say) and body, do hereby declare war on the extraterrestrials hiding all over earth. I won’t stop until I die, or win.” – March 15th, 2028

Breaking News – Reuters – March, 19th, 2028

SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN

“Another mystery murder in trendy Terracotta Towers in New Wyoming, has residents leaving town for parts unknown. Local authorities have no clues to what is motivating the murderer. Three homicides in three days overwhelmed the local police force, who actually welcomed help from the FBI. One of the victims was a tourist from Japan. The other two were roommates living in the Terracotta Towers since the building opened. More on the local Six O’ Clock news.” 

Thane stretched out on the couch and flicked the channel changer, mindlessly letting the images in the channels roll by like an endless stream of chaos. He listlessly chewed on a piece of spicy beef jerky and listened to the unintelligible noise emanating from his flat screen TV. Part of his lizard brain was working on his next victim – a computer programmer he saw several times at Starbucks. He was an alien. Thane’s uncanny ability to uncover space visitor’s identities – no matter how cleverly disguised – was a trait he was born with.

Thane knew that one day people would realize he was saving mankind by hunting the aliens down. They’d worship him and treat him like the god he was. Unfortunately that time wasn’t now, so he had to be careful and not get caught before his mission was accomplished. This required careful planning, which his lizard brain was very good at.

His choice for execution was a hypodermic needle filled with the deadliest poison known to mankind. The victim’s body turned a livid purple with seeping cracks everywhere. It took 30-minutes before the victim felt sick, dying shortly thereafter. He thoroughly researched the poison and was confident it killed aliens and humans alike. No use taking chances with hybrids. A half breed could still be a threat.

The only thing that gave Thane any doubt was he didn’t know how many aliens were on earth. He realized that his goal to become a god may take years. Still, it would be worth it he convinced himself. He’d be Lord Thane. There wouldn’t be a need for a last name.

His plan for the stranger at Starbucks was finalized in his lizard brain. It was time to go get a cup of coffee. The place was packed. As usual. Thane approached the stranger who was talking with another man. As he was slipping the hypodermic needle from his coat pocket the two men suddenly looked up at him. Their combined stare froze him. The next thing he remembered was waking up in an alley with the two strangers hovering over him.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with this?” one of the men asked.

Thane was laying on his back and couldn’t move a muscle. He sighed with the knowledge he wouldn’t be a god after all. He would become dead meat.

“You’re not the first to have dreams of ruling mankind,” the second stranger said while showing his real face to Thane.

The confederation of planets in our galaxy agreed a long time ago on how we’d infiltrate the human race. Representatives from all the planets sent early advance teams. How you managed to get on earth alone is a matter for the federation to take up.”

The two aliens backed away when the transport beam covered Thane and carried him to his judgement.

Eternity

Eternity has teased the galaxies since the dawn of time, hinting at a false permanence among the stars, only to disappoint. Cosmic things keep changing.

Universal chaos is a constant in oxygen-deprived deep space where civilizations struggle to emerge among the primordial planets, with dreams of eternal bliss.

There is no end, and no beginning in eternity. It just is. A state of inter-galactic flux that favors no species. All struggle to survive while searching the heavens and praying to ancient gods among the constellations for immortality. Eternity.

Stellar souls sing songs of heaven, vainly courting eternity with diverse beliefs.

Who Am I?

I’ve been around since mankind crawled out of caves.

Since humans gathered in loose groups and wandered the land, I’ve followed their progress closely. Listening. Waiting for opportunities. Knowing early technology would aide my efforts pitting one civilization against another.

I’ve been dressed up as a point of pride and honor. I gather rage among people like harvesting grain in fields of fear. Sometimes, I’m the first reaction. Sometimes, I’m the last reaction.

I come cloaked in national piety and greed. A harbinger of death. Men have died because of me throughout eternity.

Who am I?

The answer is war.

The Hit

Luke, a hitman for mafia boss Sam Giancana, looked up at the School Book Depository building knowing Lee Harvey Oswald was inside waiting.

He was told Oswald was going to try and assassinate President J.F. Kennedy as his motorcade slowly drove by in downtown Dallas. They told him Oswald was going to be the false sponsor for the murder.

Luke checked under his trench coat, touching the Mannlicher-Carcano rifle briefly. Identical to the one Oswald had. No one noticed him blend into the tree line of the grassy knoll.

He waited until the time was right, took aim and fired!

 


Murder Mystery

Don stopped typing and looked at the last passage he wrote about a horrendous murder in his hometown:

“The Burke family was slaughtered in their beds. Parents and the two children had their throats slit. No clues left behind. Investigators baffled about motive.

As the lone reporter for the local newspaper he had to write about the murder. He didn’t want to sensationalize it, but the editor insisted. One side of his brain said tamp the story down. The other said quit worrying and do your job.

The last thing he wanted to do was bring unwanted attention to himself!