Captian's Log Drabble: Duel | Part 1 19 Mar 2021 How the rains descended over us, crashing down like waves. Still, our swords were drawn in that darkness. Our feet slipping in the mud, we lunged and retreated. I could…
Captian's Log Half Awake Insanity 18 Mar 2021 The waves of the ocean interceding my soul . . . Distant are the mountains. Above the water a floating isle. Upon it, one solitary tree, a table, and two…
Captian's Log Word Study on תָּאִיר פָּנָיו 17 Mar 2021 (I may or may not have stayed up all night working on this paper. I may or may not have gone mad. I undoubtedly have missed something important.) Question The…
Captian's Log Drabble: The Grotesque 16 Mar 2021 He counts, whispering to himself, "One . . . two . . . three . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . "…
Captian's Log Haiku: Sun, Moon, and Stars 15 Mar 2021 The whispering stars through the dark night's long vigil keep watch over earth The hot heat of noon the sweet shadows of twilight and glorious dawn Moon, ever changing, who…
Captian's Log Poem: She Makes Lunatics Cry 14 Mar 2021 There was a time when laughter illumined my facebut now my smile brings dreadThere was a place where we knew love's embracebut here is the place of the dead. I…
Captian's Log Drabble Series: My Fatal Choice 13 Mar 20219 Mar 2021 The shots ring out, and in a semi-comic scene, he falls behind the counter, his legs flailing in the air a moment. I grin, chuckling a little. Throwing the gun…
Captian's Log Drabble Series: My Fatal Choice 12 Mar 20219 Mar 2021 There is a radio droning on beside him, the volume low. Reports of traffic, clear, summer days, an end to the war, all white noise. All these ebb and flow,…
Captian's Log Drabble Series: My Fatal Choice 11 Mar 20219 Mar 2021 He looks at me from across the counter, his eyes drooping. A bushy mustache hides his lips, and his cheeks and chin are dark with stubble. A thin, white cigarette…
Captian's Log Drabble Series: My Fatal Choice 10 Mar 20219 Mar 2021 A man carries things in life. Some things a man's forced to carry, for no man is his own master. Some things we want to carry. Mostly, it's a mixture.…
Tale Told 