Category Archives: Speakeasy

Passing Moments

She used to draw and paint and her desk had… suffered. It was Tina’s desk. She’d spent a lot of time there, it was her way of escaping when the thoughts were too much. She could stay hours, the worthy art went on the walls.

Since we started living together I learned a lot about my best friend. Thinking she was always happy I discovered that she could also be incredibly sad, and it would just happen. When she wasn’t alone it wasn’t so bad but she didn’t like to bother people. She’d downgrade herself and it was hard for her to believe anyone liked her, making it harder to call for help. There were times when I’d come home to find her curled up in bed trembling and it broke my heart. I’d hold her tight and tell her I loved her, and it was true. I loved her completely platonically but I loved her more than anything. And I knew she loved me too.
One night she took my hand and had that wild look she got sometimes, saying “Let’s escape”. Last time we’d taken a late train away from Paris, and spent the night watching the stars. Space was something that fascinated us both. This look wasn’t playful though, she was hurt. Nightly excursions weren’t new, her favourite place to go was St. Michel. Sometimes we’d go wandering the cobbled streets with the souvenirs, crêpes, musicians; this time we sat along the Seine. She looked at me hesitantly, then kissed me on the lips, which was an odd thing for her to do in this state. The wild look dissipated as she leaned into the wall. “I love you. Never forget that.” She’d said. I knew what she’d meant but I was afraid of why she was saying it. She started shaking. “What’s wrong with me?” I held her and told her it was ok, that I was there for her. “Everyone else is gone” She whispered. I told her it wasn’t her fault, I knew she knew it, but it still hurt. “No-one’ll ever love me.”
“That’s not true,” I told her “I love you, and the others still love you.” I cited the short list of names of the people who were closest to her. “And I’m sure one day you’ll find the right person and you’ll both fall in love.”
I didn’t know if it was helping. I knew she was torturing herself and she knew it was hurting me. I didn’t mind, even the best people have bad moments. “I don’t deserve you.” She’d regretted that as soon as she’d said it. I shook her and looked her in the eye, “You deserve better than me Tina, but you at least deserve me. You have to know that.” She let herself be pulled back into my arms and kept saying “I’m sorry.” She was sorry for having said that, she was sorry about how she felt, she was sorry to be such a bother. I held her until she calmed down.
The following day we argued a lot, she wanted to get help so I told her to see a psychologist, she wanted to be locked up where she could stop hurting people until she got better. I was afraid that would just make it worse and I said I’d rather she be home than there alone.
When she left I was mainly angry at myself for not having been able to do more. I missed her and it hurt to know her there, she needed to be near her friends, I was scared for her. I looked through her desk drawers wondering what I’d missed. There was a sketch of one person being held protectively against another. It wasn’t much more than shapes but there was a message:
“If you ever read this I want you to know that you’re the biggest reason I haven’t gone mad. I just wanted to say thank you. But you probably won’t see this. I just wanted you to know.”
I put it away gently, not wanting it to get wet from my tears. I didn’t know what to do. I guess I finally felt some of the sadness she’d felt. I lay on the bed for ages. Maybe I’d gotten too attached to her, but I wasn’t apologising for that.
Tina’s desk is gone now. I wasn’t in love, but I did love her and I hope she’s okay.
Je t’aime, l’oublies pas…


Hey so it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything or even been on wordpress but seeing as I’m supposed to have a little more time now I’m doing my internship I wanted to get back into this. I messed this up so it’s late so I don’t think many people will see this… I’ll try harder next week.

When I first wrote this it had twice as many words, unfortunately I’m only allowed 750 T_T so this may seem a little short, I don’t know.

Writing is a game I suppose, the art of hiding things in plain sight… what part of that was true? What of it was me? Maybe some of you have an idea of who I am… but can you ever really know? (Is this a trick question meaning this post was completely fiction?)

Nate I was shocked to realise that although I’m an IT student I still don’t know exactly how the internet works but I will get back to you on that 😉


Posted by on 25 August 2016 in Banzaï, Speakeasy


Steel and Starlight

I walk up to the gate. The darkness peals away as I step into the projector’s glow. The guards notice me. This area is already meant to be accessible only to personnel. I breathe in slowly. They point their rifles at me. The mechanical elements slide and click as their weapons are armed. The First yells a warning, the Second takes aim. I keep walking.


The Second fires a bullet. It easily penetrates through my jacket and tee-shirt, but bounces off my metal skin, now visible through the bullet hole. I keep walking towards them, unharmed. The guns are lowered. The two men share a moment of surprise, confusion, quickly followed by panic. Another warning, though now, the guard’s voice is shaking, unsure. I take another step. Their eyes widen as they realize who I am, what I am. I stop, planting my feet firmly into the ground. They point their deadly tools towards me once again, barrel points trembling.


I take my hands out of my pockets and quickly cross them in front of me in an X shape. Moments before the rifles spit their deadly fire, I turn all of my skin to metal. The two guards are now but scared children. They empty their clips on me, tearing through my sleeves, blowing my hood off of my head, and dotting my jean’s fabric with holes. Muzzle flare illuminates the night, synchronized with the crack of the guns. Compressed bullets sing and chime in symphony as they fall around me.


Her face surfaces into my consciousness. Her laugh echoes in my ear. A spark of anger resonates through my body. I push it aside. Emotions aren’t useful right now. I grow small, elongated fragments out of my arms. Projectiles. Sharp. Deadly. In front of me the guards are fumbling with their guns, trying to reload them. They are clearly inexperienced. New. Young. Guilt whispers to me. I push it aside, just as I did the anger.


Time slows to a stop. I swing my arms outwards. At the peak of the swing, I detach the shards from my metal skin. They hurl through the air like deadly feathers, reflecting the projector’s lights like a Disco ball at an old fashion club. Instantly they connect with the bodies of the two men. They fall backwards as the momentum of the shards converges into their bodies. Their weapons clatter across the concrete. I walk up to and then past them. They are littered with shards. A dark pool of blood is quickly spreading around the bodies. Their expression is that of a frozen scream, terrified and lonely.

I push pity aside with the rest. Emotions aren’t useful right now.


It’s been a whole year since I last submitted to the Speakeasy! I’ve seen new faces and familiar ones while glancing around the site a few days ago, and it’s all very exciting. I’m also trying a lot of new things with this particular piece. I’m curious to see how it came through. Comments, criticism and feedback is much appreciated. I’ve experienced with these characters before. If you so wish, feel free to read more here and here.


Posted by on 1 September 2015 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy


Tags: , ,

Finding Easter

“WHO’S IN CHARGE AROUND HERE?!” Boomed a loudness that commanded silence.

The giggling fell like a leaf with no wind to a sullen stillness. The children clutched their prizes more firmly for fear they would be taken away from them. Grown-Ups had already taken so much from the little they had.

“I am” strolled a voice with a black silver-tipped cane through the silence. “I am in charge of these children today.”

The loudness recognised the playwright and stared with the disdain of stiff men for the foolish and light hearted. The loudness was an average policeman, of average-policeman weight, with a sturdy hat on a sturdy bald and eggish head. He had cold eyes and was wielding a stick in his controlling hands. The playwright was quite the opposite: an eccentric young man with colourful if classy clothing, a spring in his step and a flourish in his hat -which on this occasion was decorated with two fake rabbit ears and his face was painted accordingly. He always had something up his sleeves and a glint in his eye for a friend. His long hair hung loosely around his ears and near his shoulders and his smile seemed to seep out and infect those around him.

“It’s Easter” spoke the smile, “let the children have a little fun, they aren’t doing any harm.”

The stiff hat wavered then stiffly turned around. “If there is trouble,” he replied “you will be held responsible.” And then he left slowly, as ungracefully as he had come in.

“You know where to find me!” called the rabbit after the retreating soldier.

At that point everyone realised that they had been holding their breath and the space slowly filled with air again. The orphans finished the feast laid out for them then went to sit by the artist one by one, like small birds perching on the same branch, waiting for something extraordinary to happen. As it always did.

A small crowd of old men and pigeons was starting to form on the park benches near them, eager to see this magic at work. The children were so intent on watching the curious man that nobody noticed Mr Murdoch creep up behind with a chicken’s head instead of his own so naturally everyone jumped and snapped around when he spoke.

“My, my, is that the Easter Rabbit I see?” queried the curious specimen, at which point the playwright spun around asking “Where, where?!” provoking a scatter of contagious giggles.

“Ah you mean me!” he exclaimed, “In that case you would be right, I am the Easter Rabbit.” and he bowed and raised his hat, ears with it, eliciting a new round of laughter.

“As it happens” he continued, “I’ve a slight probl-”

“GIVE ME BACK MY EGGS YOU THIEF!!” Screamed the hen. “You stole them!”

“I’m rather inclined to think that you are the thief, stealing all my eggs like that! How can we celebrate Easter?!”

It was working, the children were screaming at them to give the eggs back to the other until the rabbit decided on something:

“Dear me we seem to be surrounded by a crowd! Let’s ask these fine ladies and gentlemen who they think is right!”

The old men smiled imaging them all ladies and gentlemen, laughing and sticking their tongues out.

Soon they had formed two teams: Chicken Team and Team Bunny and they all set off to accomplish ridiculous feats to determine which was best, ending in an epic battle (acted out through a tug of war) between the two sides. Each team fought long and hard (and ridiculously and full-of-laughterly) until no-one could remember what the war was about. By that time the watching crowd had increased by a significant number of mainly old men and, consequently, pigeons.

But suddenly, at the moment of truce, a young and pretty Father Christmas appeared: “Mwahahaha! I stole your eggs! Easter will never be as important as Christmas!” He gloated, “but now your armies are worn out and you will never defeat me!”

And he showed them all his bag full of decorated eggs when both the Easter Rabbit and the Chicken called out in unison “GET THE EGGS!” and started running towards the thief followed by a mob of excited (and some completely clueless) children. Not wanting to get trampled by such a frantic herd he dropped his bag and surrendered and everyone grabbed the chocolate eggs.

“Children! Easter is saved!”

But nobody was listening any more.


Happy birthday Yeahwrite! 🙂

I saw Finding Neverland this weekend with my cousins and it’s a beautiful film, about J.M Barrie and his inspiration for Peter Pan.(it was also the inspiration for this post… that and the fact that it was Easter.) The main actor is Johnny Depp and he is on my list of “The few actors whose names I know and who I can call a good actor” and that list is not very long (partly because of my uncultivated-ness, partly because of the lack of real acting talent I see), so that in itself would be a good reason to watch it but it also happens to be an amazing film 😀


Posted by on 8 April 2015 in Banzaï, Speakeasy


Tiny Demon – Part 2

I waited with my hand outstretched. The little red people looked at me quizzically (as much as a being with no face could) and then one came forward to inspect my hand. Satisfied with the result he climbed up on it and said “ne?”
“I need to find the Dana” I replied.
Suddenly he jumped off as if my hand was scorching hot and they all stood protectively over the fire screaming “Dana Dana Dana!”
Coming to my rescue Allana came up “We don’t have to take all of it, just a bit.”
Then they calmed down and I noticed we might have a problem so I asked “Is there any chance one of you could carry it down with us?”
At which point they all looked at each other and pushed one forward. Looking rather down, this one took a bunch of fire stones in his arms and started walking away. So we followed it all the way to the village and defended it when it was called a demon and sentenced to death. It obviously didn’t want to go back so I decided it could stay with me. I named it Nanika.
Suddenly Allana was looking weirdly out into the dusty landscape. “When did our elephants leave?”
“Oh, that…”
Even squinting I couldn’t see past the desert…
“Ah, yeah that might be a problem…”



Ok so I don’t have any wifi but I just remembered I have this awesome thing called 3G that I have 50MB of! So I decided I was going to post this anyway and see how much it takes.
New picture! (Because you can’t write a manga without pictures).
This is part two as you can see so you can read part 1 here! I wanted to make it last week’s speakeasy but I missed the deadline ^^’
I’m keen on making this a speakeasy series (like Hypothetically Writing’s Hadley’s Story which was amazing 🙂 ) so look out for part three (maybe under a new name) next week!
Link to the next one!


Posted by on 22 October 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy, Tail of a Demon


Tiny Demon – Part 1

She looked down at me, tall, ominous, clad in silver armour and confidence, her long obsidian hair catching the breeze and her fiery eyes blazing at me. “Is this your first time?”

And there I stood beside her, small and trembling in thick leather armour. My shield, which was almost as big as I was, was strapped on to my back in such a way that I could easily pull it in front of me. My short white hair stuck up in spikes and my face was pale. My bright blue twinkling eyes were full of fear at that time when I looked up.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”


I had arrived at the guild two days before with nothing but my clothes and my shield. My sharp ears and fangs caused a lot of trouble when they were found and I was sent on a mission to prove my worth. Allana came with me. I would have appreciated a kinder person.


I nod. There was no turning back now.

“Into the cave, kill any monsters that could be lying around and come out with some of the sacred Dana. How bad could it be?” She said. Then she smiled reassuringly and I had to grin stupidly back. But I guess she didn’t mind seeing my fangs.

“Stay close behind me” she warned as her long thick sword materialised in her hand, “you never know what you might find”.

We crept into the cavern, all senses alert. It was so quiet and there was an eerie flickering light in the back. All we could hear was our breathing. Actually especially mine.

There didn’t seem to be any monsters but then I had never seen any real monsters. I imagined them to be big ugly beings and my fingertips kept twitching, ready to grab my shield. There was a slope with fire above. “Monsters are usually afraid of fire. Unless they’re very strong but I don’t think this is the case here or someone would have noticed.”

So up we went. There was indeed a fire, fuelled by glowing red stones that seemed to be its inextinguishable source. And all around this fire were little red people, with sphere heads, a cushion-like body and tubey arms and legs, not unlike the green ones I had met near my old home. They were harmless really but they tended to attack however they could when they felt threatened and seeing how close they were to the fire I could easily guess how they would attack. So before Allana slashed her sword I hooked my fingertips under the edge of my shield, pulled it over my head and planted it firmly into the ground in front of me all in less than a second. So fast that Allana almost hit it with her sword.

Sure enough they were throwing the fire at us but they soon stopped, realising that it wouldn’t work. I peeked over to see them standing in a circle, speaking excitedly in their squeaky language; they were looking for a way to make us go away, they were annoyed that we didn’t burn. I knew that although they didn’t understand our language, they usually understood the general meaning of what you try to tell them. “Let me talk to them.” I asked Allana.

Stepping around my shield I spoke to them: “I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to find the Dana.”



Ok so this was meant to be last week’s speakeasy entry but then I hadn’t finished the drawing and then I missed the deadline and I thought “oh well, no rush now” so I’m only putting it up now…

I’ll miss this week’s speakeasy too if I don’t write something today ^^’

I hope you like the drawing. I’m very proud of it since I can’t draw much especially not people but I think this was ok 😀

You can read the next part here 🙂


Posted by on 19 October 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy, Tail of a Demon


DS- Chaos

The cockpit is rattled by a nearby explosion. A fraction of the chaos outside appears on the monitor. Muffled sounds of whistling shells and the crack of massive guns resonate throughout. Sweat droplets sparkle on the visor of my helmet, my breathing is heavy, and I fight to control the trembling of my hands on the joysticks.

They came out of nowhere. Mere hours after we lost contact with the moon, the massive fleet was breaking through the atmosphere. Of course, we were armed. The fleet situated the moon was a mere fraction of what was stationed on Earth. Our assailants’ arsenal rivalled if not surpassed the size of ours, but it’s our home we were defending, and we quickly grew desperate. The nukes soon started to rain upon the enemy. During the scramble, the order was “no mercy, whatever happens”.

All of the American fleet was upon them, and Europe’s vanguard was hours from the front line. The orbital fleet will start firing any second now. Meanwhile, we’re out here on the ground, to make sure these things don’t go anywhere. It’s not an easy fight, but one I’m determined to see through.

I launch my mech into the air, through the smoke and the chaos, take aim at the blurry shapes in the distance, and squeeze the trigger. My target explodes in a mix of metal, circuits and flesh. Whatever it is we’re fighting, they’re also using mechanized armours. Some of them seem to have four arms….

I land hard on the destroyed torso of another friendly mech, noticing the black edged hole through the cockpit. “Rest in peace, mate” My teeth are tense as I spit the words out.

A quick, repetitive beep resonates out of the console. The kinetic sensors. Something hits the left side of my mech, tipping me to the side. I turn my armour back to face my aggressor. A three eyed armour is walking towards me, a strange contraption in hand. He points it towards me, and the barrel starts to glow. A gun.

I press a button. The handle of my attack dagger slides from its sheath. I yank it out with my mech’s right arm, activate the rear thrusters, ejecting my valiant suit towards the enemy, and thrust my blade into the thing’s head. A flash of light erupts from the strange weapon’s barrel.

The next sight I see is the thing’s lights flicker and fail through the gaping hole in my cockpit plating, half of my vision obstructed, probably by my own blood. The right joystick my hand was holding is gone, replaced by a scorching combination of metal, fibre and flesh. The pain hasn’t hit me yet. I doubt it ever will. My body feels more and more numb as a dark liquid gathers on my pedals. What’s left of my vison blurs and goes dark.


Sticking to my action/sci-fi/dystopian roots for this first foray into Speakeasy 2.0. Hope you guys liked it. Comments much appreciated!


Posted by on 12 October 2014 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy


Tags: , , ,

Small Dirty Things

“I tried to forgive them. I really did you see? But it was just too much, you can’t just disrespect people like that, spit on their face y’know? That just ain’t right. That’s what did it really. I swear I woulda let them go but I couldn’t then see? It just weren’t possible what with circumstances an’ all. Nah, better like that I thought. Nice and clean, don’tcha see? Neat, I thought. There weren’t no other way. I only wish I coulda give them a proper burial only I couldn’t then, ‘cause I had no time, I knew they’d come after me an’ I knew that they couldn’t understand. But you understand me see? Couldn’tcha tell ‘em when they come? That they made a mistake see and I’m an innocent man I didn’t have no choice…”

Deep in her heart Millie wanted to feel some sympathy for this man who had gone through hell like so many others, but this man had come late in the night and it had been pouring and her feet were wet which was the most horrible sensation she could have and she only had two shoes and no socks. Millie had already swept the old inn despite the fact that the man was still there and yet he still sat there alone with beer in hand, talking to himself. Of course he thought he was talking to her but Millie knew better. He was explaining his troubles in hope for forgiveness, for a sign that not all was lost but the girl didn’t care anymore. So Millie sat on a bar stool and stared into the fire while the man poured all his worries into his pint of beer that didn’t seem to be getting any smaller with the time until she realised that the stranger was no longer talking. She turned around just in time to see him disappearing up the stairs.

She was tired of her life. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been in the small inn or its surroundings. It was so hidden away that the only people that came were lucky thieves and wanted men. The only honest man Millie had ever known was her father but even he was not the best of role models. “Maybe tomorrow.” She told herself. “Maybe if tomorrow an honest man comes in I’ll leave with him.” But the following day no honest man would come nor the day after that until she took a horse from a dishonest one with a bundle of clothes and food and ran away. She found a road that led her to a town and used all the men come to the inn had taught her to make a living until she had to run away, back to her inn. For there were not many wanted women and she knew what they would do to her when they found her. So she went back to her inn and her father and her traitors and she understood them all. She knew how you had to make choices in life and she was now aware of the consequences. She did not judge men by what they said rather than how they said it. And she kept waiting for that honest man to come and take her away, knowing that he would never come. Daringly defying her fate.


A little story for you 🙂

Life is long and tedious and boring at the moment. Maybe the one interesting thing I can say (that I forgot to mention last time) is that the third part of our joint story with DS is out if you’d care to take a look for those that haven’t already. Here it is: Lions and Ravens! I hope you like it 🙂


Posted by on 7 October 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy



In the span of a breath, everything changed. I was now standing tall and proud, my cape was billowing in the wind as I beheld the gleaming city. At last, I was there: Ollion, the bright star. After all my troubles, I had endured much to arrive here yet here was the city, stunning in the light of the sunrise, beautiful. But I had not come this far to stop now. I had heard that the doors only open to those worthy of it and I had every intention of outshining all those in the tents outside who had yet to prove their worth. On the way I had thought long and hard about what I would do but already I knew it would be spectacular.
The wind mumbled something: “tafeylapajkathr?”
The world around me begins to blur as I struggle to understand.
The gnarled tree next to me turn into long, hanging strands. Light, real light floods in as I try to open my eyes. My head is resting on my fist and my hair is a curtain hiding me from prying eyes. On my desk sits the annoyingly easy physics sheet that refuses to let me understand it and my pencil that I probably haven’t touched for at least 20 minutes.
“Hé! T’as fait la page quatre?”
Brain calibrating itself: new language: French. “Hey! Did you do page 4?”
I manage to murmur something back “Mmmm? Yeah, I just did this…” showing him the “v / c x h” I had scribbled onto my page 4.
“Oh ok.”
Time to work again. I was almost there though! Next time I’ll make it to the gate and show some awesome magic… unless someone wakes me up again first…
I keep staring at my page, willing it to make answers appear but incomprehensible it stays. It would appear that my magic powers have not developed enough in my dreams to be of use when I wake. So I pick up my pencil and look for answers. If magic worked like that, I suppose we’d all be terribly stupid anyway. Ah well… never mind. Next time maybe. Next time I’ll venture forth into the vast majestic city to discover the wonders that await me. I’m already near enough to the gates to make it through next time. In the meantime though, great physical questions need my answering. Farewell Dream-Me. Until next time.


I wanted to read the first book of Game of Thrones but someone had already taken it out so I decided to borrow The Picture of Dorian Gray instead and for the moment I have not been disappointed. The beauty of Oscar Wilde’s writing even in his preface is more than admirable. He chooses every word carefully to create beautiful sentences and good sense. He takes the reader exactly where he wants to and plays with us, describing the trees and clouds while two characters are deep in conversation this detaching us from it or making it seem less important and their words insincere.
Reading Wilde’s book (well, starting to read it) has made me understand a little better just how much I still have to learn, or how much I could learn. It’s a beautiful book (for the moment anyway) and it’s not that long if you don’t mind reading well structured, complicated and thoroughly thought out sentences all the way through.
I’ve just realised that I probably won’t be asked to read many books this year which gives me more time for books I actually want to read. I already have a list but if you have any good suggestions to throw at me go ahead 🙂

(Sorry if the icon doesn’t work but I have limited access to computers and it doesn’t show on mobile :/ )


Posted by on 1 October 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy


DS Speakeasy 179-Void

I’ve come to love the silence. Only out here in space can one enjoy such peace. Unfortunately, this peace was soon to be shattered. I had abandoned the unmanned resource satellites yesterday,  following the asteroid belt back to the colony. The empty void of space, the predictable, familiar mechanical hisses and clicks of my armoured suit were going to once again give way to the unpredictable chaos of the crowd, the overly natural environment, with its animals, and its trees, with branches trying to grab you, imposing themselves upon you. How could anyone like this? The colonies, they say, were built to provide a home for Earth’s growing population, attempting to reproduce a familiar environment in the process. If Earth is as noisy, chaotic, dirty, and unpredictable as the colony hub, then I’d much rather stick to spatial duties. Humans are horrible to be around. They’re all rude, and violent, and egocentric and….

… I need a break.

I cancelled out my mech’s velocity relative to the asteroid belt, put my helmet on, switched off the hydrogen core, and opened the hatch, letting myself float out into space, a mere cable holding me to the seat of my cockpit. The distant sun was illuminating the millions of rocks that composed the belt, the rays playing and dancing on the metal of my suit. I held my right hand in front of me. Four gloved fingers and a thumb were moving in my field of view. Deep breath. Why do I exist? Why are clones necessary to Humankind? They have too many people to start with, so why add more mouths to feed? Sure, we’re more adapted to 0-G environments, what with the fancy genetic augmentations and all, but why go through all the trouble of creating a new species? Why didn’t they just genetically modify some of their own people? Are they that lazy? Willing to create a new life form, just to avoid doing some dirty work?

I sighed. My HUD indicated me that I wasn’t supposed to be back at the spaceport for another six hours. The colony was very close. I was surprised it couldn’t be seen yet. Without thinking it through any further, I turned towards the sun, and let the vague sense of heat drift me to sleep…

…until a metallic click against my visor woke me up. Something bright and golden was spinning slowly right in front of me. A bullet casing. Startled, I swiped it away with my hand, only to realize I was surrounded with the little golden metal tubes. Hundreds of them, perhaps thousands, drifted all around me.

I felt my stomach drop. Something was horribly wrong. I returned to my mech, turned the main power on. It had been 1H since I last checked the time. Meanwhile, I had drifted closer to the colony, yet it was nowhere to be seen. My mech slowly burst to life. Screens turned on, engines revved, and electricity flowed. Music to my ears. After a few moments, the sensors went crazy. It seemed the asteroid belt was filled with huge chunks of metal and steel and organic matter where the colony should have been.

As I got closer, signs of battle became evident. Fragments of ships were drifting about, crushing asteroids in their wake. Mechs similar to mine were torn and lifeless, floating in the empty void of space. Soon, carcasses of skyscrapers and civilian homes floated about, dotting the sky with eerie images. As I got closer still, bodies started to appear. Some of them were disfigured, maimed and partially annihilated by the battle, but others were too well preserved, almost as if they were about to start moving again. Once I had reached what was supposed to be the heart of the colony, I had already seen horrors beyond count.

Where I stood, bits of plants, cars, buildings, and bodies were all too abundant. I stood there, wide eyed, looking at the still death that surrounded me, motionless, breathless. Something moved into my field of view. A tree. One of the elements of nature I had grown to resent, floating, leafless, through the remains of the colony. It was revolving slowly. After a few seconds, it had completed a semi rotation, revealing the woman whose body lay impaled by its branches…



First post in a while. Here, a somewhat sociopathic space colonist comes back from a mission, only to find his/her home destroyed. Definitely not my usual character! Comments appreciated!


Posted by on 16 September 2014 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy


Tags: , , ,

Words Left Behind

I’ve come to love the silence. I have long since stopped talking to myself. It has become a part of me. But it is never an empty silence, it is full of words scribbled on the wall, phrased scrawled across the the room. “Thomas Warlow 1981-“, “love is gone”, “all that you can’t leave behind:

“Things not to think about:
Nice food”
And then more: “to be wise you must first be a fool”, “there are no walls, this door is nought”, “I’ve come to love the silence”, “words are for the dead”…
And then there was a window, at first I couldn’t see much but as time grew by I saw mountains and lakes and a bright blue sky when I looked at it.I saw old trees as wise beings hunched from the weight of their knowledge and young innocent weightless girls dance by them. Outside, words of wisdom were scattered in the wind: “A wise man knows that he is foolish, he knows his advice is never absolute but it is always the least foolish thing he could think of. A wise man knows that he knows not much… A true wise man never calls himself wise, others do it for him.”
Foreign words on distant shores sprang out: “Il est interdit d’interdire”, “Errare humanum est”.
People call me The Madman. I no longer see these walls, there are no boundaries in my mind I am one with my cell and when finally I die as I know I will, it will keep me alive. “Words are for the dead”. The living have never as much use for their words as when they are dead. Because it is all that is left of who they once were.
Though my best words will always have their own wall, in front of the door, unmissable: “impossible is impossible”. A message for future tenants to ponder.
                                                            • † •
I was possessed, I killed a man in cold blood during a ritual people only do once in their lives. spirits possessed me and I gutted him like a pig, slaughtered his family and burned down his home. But this man had wronged me deeply and I had no part in what happened to him, my body tore him apart while my mind watched from the outside. I do not remember it well, it was dark and messy.
And so men came and took me away but I could not deny my body’s part in the act and so it was condemned to sit rotting in this cell as my mind roams free through the cement window. They say I am insane. I am starting to believe it.
Looking AT the window, it reminds me of a funny old film about two Americans and an Italian in jail: the Italian draws a window and says “do you say look at the window or look through the windows?” and one of the other guy says “I’m afraid in this case you’re looking at the window”.
I probably wont be able to answer to your comments this week (I’ll get to them as soon as possible), I barely got this up :/

Posted by on 16 September 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy