Fire tore away at the wooden huts. Water dripped down the tin-roofed sheds and onto the scarred, bloody ground. The wind howled and snapped at the remaining survivors. The streets were torn apart. Houses - shredded. Every street, path and road were encrusted with blood and grime. Bodies lay everywhere; human or Spirit, no one could tell. No one cared. Everybody had their own lives to fight for.

Raindrops dotted his eyelashes, dust and grit coated his silvery hair. The wooden stairs shuddered beneath him as he stood up, starting to splinter. Taking care to avoid the broken glass, he stepped out of the doorway and onto the street, although it did not do much difference to change the view.

“Zeichel!”

Zey-shell. The name was sounded unfamiliar to his ears. It had been a long time since he had heard his own name. His parents had been washed away when the floods had come. He had been visiting cousins in the next country. When he returned, there had been nothing left. Then the fire came, the fire that so greedy it took everyone away. Winds followed from storms at sea. They were constantly waiting for the next attack. It could be anytime, or there could be no attack at all. No one knew what was going to happen, and it terrified them.

“Please, help me.”

His neighbour was trapped underneath his concrete wall, his legs pinned underneath his house. Zeichel pitied the human - almost as much as he pitied his own kind. But he remembered the times when they had struggled, and the neighbour had stared out of the window at them without sympathy. And after all, the world was ending. Everyone would die soon anyway. Crouching, he stared at his face. It was unlike theirs in so many ways. The humans were weak. They were stripped of all power the Spirits had.

“Please, just pull me free. I can help you.” He begged, stretching his arms out like a toddler.

Slowly, Zeichel began to smile. “Help? Like what? Money, food? Open your eyes. The world is dying. We don’t need those things anymore. You might as well burn it all if you’ve got anything left. Your race is dying.”

The man gasped in agony, scrabbling to regain his crushed limbs. “Please, I will do whatever you ask-”

Zeichel crouched down and gently traced patterns into the stained ground. Closing his eyes, he let the power burn behind them. When he opened them again, he could feel the fire in them and knew that his eyes had become milky-white jewels. But the humans were afraid of what they couldn't have. They were afraid of what they couldn't claim as their own, and so they tried to take it away with force.

The neighbour gasped and turned away from Zeichel in surprise. He wouldn't accept Zeichel's help anymore, knowing that it was his kind that had done this.

“Monster,” he choked, blood trickling out of his mouth.

“No,” Zeichel stood. “Spirit.”

                                               *                    *                     *

He kept moving, believing that one day he could find his parents again. Although they had never been close, they were family. Together, they could maybe escape. Everywhere he turned, all he saw was death, destruction, the remains of war.

But war required fighting between two sides. They were just the ones who were dying. All the places he had visited had been broken, empty of life. The only survivors he found were other lost Spirits, like him, who were immune to hunger, thirst, and sleep. None of them wanted to work with him, or anyone else, for that matter. Each Spirit had their own ways to go. The world was crumbling like sand, ridding Earth of the humans but keeping the Spirits alive.

At one of the towns, he stopped to gather provisions. Natural water was polluted, and food was scarce. 

Sighing, he shoved open the door to a department store. It had remarkably more goods than other places. People, like him, had to take whatever they could find. Zeichel tried not to think of it as stealing. Grimacing at the ominous stains on the floor, he reached up to take a black backpack from a shelf. He waited for the alarms to start blaring, but nothing happened. Someone had already deactivated them.

Most of the food had already been taken, but he found an unopened pack of granola bars and two bottles of water. He slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the register. Cashiers usually kept radios or TVs for their breaks. Zeichel occasionally used them to listen to the news, if he could get the right signal.

He found a small TV concealed in one of the cupboards. The cable was still attached to the wall, which meant that no one had tried to steal it yet. The screen was dusty but it flickered to life when Zeichel pressed a button. Most of the channels were cut off but a few of the news channels worked. 

“-Recent events at the city centre resulted in the deaths of four brave men, who sacrificed themselves in the fight against the demons.” A news reporter held up four pictures. “Their deaths helped us recapture the demonic individuals, who we have locked away. The location of the prison will not be published.”

Images of faces with gemstone-like eyes showed up. Some of them were contorted in pain, while others were scowling in fury.

“If you see anyone with these eyes, report them immediately. Our telephone number is 4093-8203-0001. Do not engage. We will determine whether they are demon or human. This is a live conversation with Edan Tersi, the man who invented this testing process.”

The news cut to a blurry video of a middle-aged man wearing dark clothes, sweat plastered against his forehead.

“Mr. Tersi, how did you develop this machine?”

The man pulled at his collar nervously. “Recently I discovered that one of my closest childhood friends was a demon. She attacked my family, killed my children. None of these demons are human. We can't trust them. The test determines whether a person is a demon or a human. If they are a demon, they react like they are being burnt-”

An explosion in the building behind him shook the camera to the ground. Flames roared up and touched the smoky sky. Behind Edan Tersi, a door exploded off of its hinges and a group of people - Spirits - came running through. Their faces and hands were covered in dirt and blood. Zeichel watched, horrified, as military troops rushed to the scene. Some of them were blasted away by fire and energy, while others started shooting.

Tersi grabbed at the camera, the veins in his forehead protruding. “Turn it off!”

The screen went blank. Breathing heavily, Zeichel turned to face the cash register. How could anyone treat others like that? Edan Tersi thought that they were demons. Spirits and humans were the same species. One just had magic, and the other didn't. Clenching his fists, Zeichel took a deep breath. Once they were taken by the humans, there was no escaping.

Someone had obviously broken into the cash register before. The drawer was smashed like it had been hit with a hammer. Coins lay scattered on the floor, and there were trails of crumpled paper everywhere. Zeichel left them there. Even if he did take it, there would be no reason to use it. Money was useless, just scraps of paper. Pushing away price lists, he found a drawer with a gun and a pocket knife. He slowly lifted the pocket knife. It seemed like a good weapon, but he didn’t feel like fighting. The war had to stop.

The sound of shattering glass startled him. A gang rushed into the store. One of the older girls clutched the end of a broken bottle. Heart hammering, Zeichel ducked underneath the counter, grabbing the gun from the drawer. He didn’t even know how to use it, but he pulled back part of it, making a distinct snapping noise. He froze.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, the girl with the broken bottle slammed Zeichel against the drawers. His eyes flashed, and the gun almost slipped out of his hand. None of his muscles wanted to work, but his mind was screaming orders. The girl, seeing the gun, jabbed the broken part of the bottle upwards, aimed perfectly at the artery in his throat.

“Hand over your money,” a guy held his hand out. “Now.”

“There’s some in the cashier,” he said hoarsely, trying to plan out what he was going to do. He knew his magic wasn't close to strong enough to defeat them. As soon as they saw his eyes, they would kill him.

The girl frowned and pulled open the cash register, waving the money at the others. “We need more. If you think we’ll let you go because you let us have some, you’re wrong. Give us the rest.”

“I didn’t take any of it!” Zeichel spat at them. He tightened his grip on the gun, but one of them snatched it away, pressing it against his head. "You’re not going to need it. Money is useless.”

The back of the gun slammed down onto his head, but he didn’t feel the pain. This seemed to infuriate them even more.

“Don’t you know anything? There’s an escape pod. But we gotta pay up. So hand overyour money.”

Zeichel flicked the wrist, throwing them back. Grabbing the gun, he pointed it at them. "Let me go."

Snarling, the girl threw the broken bottle at him. The jagged edges grazed his cheek. Without even flinching, he pulled the trigger. A bullet ricocheted off of a beer can, narrowly missing a gang member’s foot. The scar on his cheek had already begun to heal. Though it was slow, the others noticed.

“You’re one of them,” a girl hissed. “Demon.”

They began advancing towards Zeichel.

“Stay back,” he warned. He aimed at one of their legs and pulled the trigger, but it only made a dull click sound. Cursing, he tossed the gun aside and held both hands out. ”I have nothing on me, I swear. Just let me go, and you can go back to mugging people.”

The others laughed, but it was hollow. “Let one of you go? We’ll be heroes for killing one of your kind.” A boy whipped out a switchblade, while another set fire to an alcohol-drenched newspaper and held it like a detonating bomb. Although Zeichel wasn’t one to back down from a fight, he was outnumbered. He jumped up and over the counter, shoving open the exit doors of the store. There was no time to look back. Beer cans and pieces of garbage rained down on his back. The backpack was weighing him down, but he couldn't stop moving. Jumping over overturned trashcans, he ducked into an alley.

After a while, the footsteps stopped. Zeichel ran to the town centre, panting. Touching his cheek, he felt a scar forming. Furiously, he kicked an empty soda can. It skidded across the ground, clattering out of sight. The humans had never treated them equally. Swinging his fist, he punched a wall, almost breaking his hand. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and he clenched his fists, wanting to scream.

“There’s another one,” a voice called.

Startled, he turned, his hand still throbbing. Two people were behind him. Not people. Spirits. Fire flickered in the woman’s hand, tendrils of it stretching out lazily. Zeichel blinked.

In a second, they were by his side, gripping his arms tightly.

“Hey, what are you-?”

“Be quiet,” the man grumbled, though his voice was soft. “Don’t try to fight us. You’ve seen only a little of what we can do. If they like you, they’ll keep you. And if they don’t, you’ll still be rewarded. You're one of us, aren’t you?” His fingers dug into Zeichel’s arm.

“Of course he is, you idiot,” the woman snapped. “We’ve been taught how to distinguish their Auras. Can’t you tell? We’re wasting time. They’re waiting. Let’s go.”

“What are you talking about?” Zeichel planted his feet. “Let me go.” 

The woman patted him gently on the back as if trying to console him. “Calm down,” she hushed. “We’re like you. We’re fighting back against them.”

“What? But I'm not-”

The man laughed. “You think we’re humans?” He started chuckling, the thought pleasing him. “We know exactly who you are, Zeichel Crea. You’re like us. We’re like you. We’re Spirits.”

                                              *                     *                      *

There were other people - roughly around his age, sixteen, lying around him, looking confused. He didn't know where he was, or why he was there. Where they all Spirits, like him. He had tried asking the man and woman what they had meant, but they had simply dropped him at the clearing and had left.

“What are we doing here?” He turned to the girl next to him, who was glaring menacingly at the others. Her chin-length black hair was wet like she had been swimming. Blinking her brown eyes, she frowned and tilted her chin towards the centre of the clearing, where the man and woman who had ‘escorted’ Zeichel were talking to others. Were they all Spirits?

“They brought us here,” she shrugged. There was something different about her accent. Zeichel wasn’t used to it.

“Yeah, I realise that,” he rolled his eyes. “Where are you from?”

The girl narrowed her eyes as if she wasn’t sure whether he was genuinely curious. For a second, she hesitated. “Japan,” she paused. “But half American, too. I’ve been running for three years. We have to get out of here.” Her eyes flickered, changing to orange sapphires. She was a Spirit.

Shuffling backwards, Zeichel pointed at the others. “Aren’t they Spirits?”

She scowled. “Are you stupid? Humans are always lying. Can you reach my hands?” She twisted her back, and Zeichel realised that her hands and legs had been tied together with metal cuffs. Seeing him staring, she rolled her eyes. “I was trying to get away. Help me. We can escape.”

Zeichel frowned. “Why? I don’t even know you. And besides, I want to hear what these people have to say. If they’re human, I’ll untie you. If they’re not, they might be able to help us.” He motioned at the others around them. “We can fight back.”

The girl opened her mouth, her caramel eyes burning like fire. “But-”

There was a sudden, high-pitched noise, like a metal fork against a ceramic plate. The noise stopped almost immediately, but it had caught everyone’s attention. Nobody made a sound. The girl next to Zeichel stood, but the others flicked their wrists and she fell down. She turned to Zeichel with a murderous rage in her eyes, as if to say, "See?"

A sleek black car pulled up into the clearing. The engine was so quiet, none of them noticed it at first. Others stepped up to open the doors.

Two young men around the age of seventeen got out of the car. Their startlingly white hair contrasted against their dark attire, and their white-iris eyes flashed menacingly. Twins. If they hadn’t been wearing different coloured hoodies - blue and black - nobody would have been able to tell them apart. They were beautiful, like marble statues. Both of them wore star-sapphire rings. Zeichel stared at them, eyebrows furrowed. He had a feeling that he had seen them somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember.

“Sorry for the trouble,” one of the brothers, the one in the blue hoodie, grinned devilishly. “You can call me Romar Braus. Br-a-oo-s. My brother is Broo-a. Romar is our sort of . . . honorary name. You may have heard of us.” He opened his hand, and flames rose out of his palm. Zeichel crossed his arms, unimpressed. Many of them could do it, and it wasn't that hard. But Romar Braus splayed his fingers, and the fire grew larger.

“We are descendants of one of the first Spirits that ever existed, and our power is stronger than most. We’ve grown up surrounded by magic, while you have not. You have witnessed what the humans have done - what they are still doing - to us Spirits. We’re fighting against it. This is our world, too, and we deserve our lives.” With each word, the fire in his hand got larger and larger. Flicking his wrist, the fire shot across the clearing and the nearest house went up in flames with a loud bang!

People began muttering. None of them had grown up with the luxury of living with magic; that was something nobody could achieve. Zeichel turned to the girl next to him.

“No human could do that,” he whispered. She scowled in response.

Romar Brua waved his hand, and a small glass screen appeared. “In case you are wondering,” he projected his voice. “We are looking for recruits. Anyone can join us if you are strong enough. Those that are not will be free if you wish.”

The brothers stepped towards them, who were being hustled into rows by the older Spirits. Zeichel needed time to plot out what he had to do. Would he join them? Would he stay away? They claimed to be fighting against the humans, but Zeichel had never fought before. 

While Braus scanned the teenagers by touching the screen with their hands, Brua kept talking.

“The humans have realised what we are. They’ve tried stopping us more than once, and this is only one fight of the war. As usual, we’ll just fight back harder. This,” he gestured to the screen. “Can scan your abilities and strengths. If we think you’re strong enough, you can join us. You’ll be able to fight for what we stand for and reclaim this world as ours. And those of you that don’t feel strong enough, don't worry. Stay out of sight, where you won't be hurt.”

Braus helped the first Spirit up to his feet, whispering something to him. Nodding, the guy shuffled forward to join the other Spirits, who were waiting for the brothers. There was no cheer or hearty welcome; only a small pat on the back, a pitiful smile. Zeichel watched curiously as they went down the row of Spirits. Some chose to leave, looking nervously at them as they left. One by one, each of them made their decision.

The girl next to Zeichel paused when they came to her, her eyes landing on the crystalline daggers sheathed at their waists.

“Hold your hand out,” Braus said, a soft warmth in his eyes. “We won't hurt you.”

Narrowing her eyes, she gingerly held out her hand. Braus grabbed her wrist and pressed the glass against her fingertips. Zeichel saw it light up with information. He wondered what kind of magic it used; he had never seen anything like it before. 

“Kaoru Takahara, will you be joining us?”

Kaoru blinked. “I can choose?”

Brua nodded. “You will be welcomed by us,” he motioned to the others. “We can teach you how to defend yourself and how to use your magic. Or you can stay out here, in the remains of civilisation, and find your own ways to survive. If you leave, we can't protect you. You can't change your mind.”

Zeichel had to admit, they did have the skill of persuasion. They knew exactly who to target and how to influence them. If they had been human, this war would have finished centuries ago.

Kaoru glanced at the others, then back down at her feet. She shook her head slightly. “I-I’m sorry. I just can’t fight. Can I go?” Shakily, she stood, her eyes lowered, shoulders drooping.

The brothers nodded, looking disappointed. “Stay safe.” They watched as she turned, trembling, and ran back into the shadows. Zeichel respected her decision, though he thought it was a foolish one. The only way to increase their chance of survival was to keep fighting. 

Without being instructed Zeichel held up his hand. The glass felt cold, and a jolt of electricity went down his spine as he touched it. Aware of the fact that the brothers were staring at him, he lowered his hand tentatively.

“Zeichel,” Braus sounded interested. “You are strong for your age, and your soul has potential. Will you join us? We can teach you things-”

“I don't need the speech,” Zeichel muttered tiredly. “How does my soul have potential?”

Romar Braus tapped the screen. “It means that your powers are excellent if used correctly. Your soul is what improves your magic. Without it, you will still retain your powers, but they won't progress. Each soul can contain a specific amount of power. So, will you be joining us or not?”

Dark drops of rain started to splatter the ground. Slowly, Zeichel rose to his feet. The sky rumbled in a hushed warning. If he made the right choice, he would survive the war. And if he didn’t, he would be persecuted. Taking a step forward, he slowly made his way to where the other recruits had joined.

Looking back, he saw the brothers nod simultaneously, their jewelled eyes flickering.

                                          *                        *                        *

Over time, the Romar brothers became like family, as promised. They taught the new recruits how to strengthen their magic and how to fight with weapons. They were more like family to Zeichel than his parents had been. He felt safer fighting by the brothers’ side. Over the course of a few months, they managed to destroy many of the human testing areas. Zeichel never saw Edan Tersi again. He hoped he was dead, but he had the feeling that he was just hiding, waiting for the chance to get them.

It was one of those days when the brothers came up with an idea. They were very secretive about it, but they asked to talk to Zeichel. They tried not to favour some Spirits over others, but Zeichel had the feeling that they were about to tell him something they wouldn’t tell anyone else.

“When we recruited you,” Brua began cautiously. “We said your soul had potential.”

“Yeah,” Zeichel nodded, wondering where this was going. “And my magical power cannot grow without it.”

Braus grinned. “Precisely. Let us tell you something, something the others do not know. Souls have magical value.”

Closing his eyes, Zeichel felt the familiar surge of power at his fingertips. He could almost tell where this was going. “I understand. And you want me to give up mine for our cause.”

The Romar brothers glanced at each other. “The humans have started to understand our genetics. They are learning how to manipulate us, how to limit our powers. We need to introduce new threats.”

“How would my soul help?”

Braus twisted the silver ring on his hand. “Stronger souls have stronger power. Humans have next to no power, but ours can grow. When a soul is separated from its owner and converted into pure magic, it releases a massive amount of energy. This energy can be used to jump-start potent spells.”

Zeichel tried to wrap his head around it. He didn't mind giving his soul if it meant he would be helping the Spirits. The only thing he worried about was what being soul-less felt like. “Won’t I lose all of my emotions?” He asked. “I’ll just be a shell. Human.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Brua briefly touched the crystalline dagger at his waist. “Think of it this way. You have a family.” His expression softened. “And one day, you lose them. But you don’t lose the experiences you’ve had with them, right? You still remember everything that happened, the memories are intact. Losing them only stops you from growing those memories and experiences further, from making more. Do you understand?”

“You’re saying that if I give up my soul, I won’t be able to grow my magic, and I won’t be able to grow new emotions?” Zeichel wondered why they had chosen him, of all people. There were plenty of other Spirits that were probably waiting right outside of the door, ready to give their lives for the Romar twins. “So if I’ve never fallen in love with someone-”

“Then you never will,” Braus said stiffly. “This is your choice. You'll keep all of your magical talents and emotions, like anger, sadness, happiness, family. You just won’t be able to grow them. Soulless people also tend to experience stronger emotions than normal, because your soul isn’t there to control it.” He hesitated, and gently placed his hand on Zeichel’s shoulder.

Zeichel sighed. “I understand that our situation is getting worse. I can do it. I am strong enough to survive without it.”

The Romar twins grinned in unison. “Thank you. You will be remembered a hero.” They patted him on the back, smiling. 

Taking a deep breath, Zeichel nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

                                            *                         *                         *

A week passed.

Then two more.

And before they knew it, it had been a month.

The brothers had not returned.

It took them a while to realise it. Maybe because they were hoping to hear from them again. Maybe they didn’t really believe it. For a while, they waited, but most of the newer recruits started to drift away. Soon, most of them had disappeared. Almost nothing was left of their army.

Using Zeichel’s soul, the twins had released the seal that had been placed on the gates of Hell. Demons had crawled out and had destroyed what remained of Earth. The humans were not heard from again. After everyone else had left, Zeichel had gone outside to look for the twins. The only thing he had found was their rings, half-buried in the dirt. Grief consumed him. Nothing mattered anymore. For a few days, he sat there, the rings clasped between his fingers. The war was over. Demons roamed the Earth, but none of them bothered him. They didn’t see the fight in him. Maybe they pitied him. Maybe they knew his life was as good as over.

The only reason why he had gotten back up and kept walking was so he wouldn't forget what they had fought for. Once returning to their base, he gathered the information they had and read them over and over. Even though the brothers had said that he would not be able to grow his magical strength without his soul, he realised that they had taught him just enough to learn what they had. None of the others cared that he had taken it - they were either dead or close to it. 

Zeichel had bumped into Spirits who were relocating the humans while wandering around. They had taken one look at him, written his name down, and had told him that Spirits who had worked with the Romar brothers wouldn't be allowed to leave. Zeichel didn’t care. The Spirits and the humans, allies. Most of the humans being teleported away looked dazed and confused. They had had their memories wiped. They had the luxury of forgetting their pain, forgetting the carnage they were leaving behind. 

Almost everyone who had survived the war had left or were dead. Earth was abandoned. The only people who were left were Spirits, like him, who had worked with the Romar brothers. The ones that had been cast away. No one dared bother Zeichel - they knew how much they had meant to him and the anger that was consuming him.

Zeichel swore to himself, no matter what obstacles stood in his way, he would finish what the brothers had started. He would destroy humankind and create an entirely new world for them, the Spirits, the pure. He would let only the strong ones survive, the ones who were fully Spirit. The humans would perish.

                                                *                     *                    *

Title:  Stone Souls

Genre: Fantasy fiction 

Age Range/Target Audience: 13 - 16

Word count of excerpt: 4702

Author name: Amy Phelps

Why is this a good fit? This is an excellent choice for those who enjoy reading fantasy and magic novels. It is set in a completely different world where humans and Spirits live in peace. The plot follows a Spirit named Lira with the help of her newly-made friends tries to stop those blinded by hatred destroying the human race.

The hook: The message of this book is that all living things should live in harmony, no matter their race or differences. Although the humans and Spirits are essentially the same species, they fear one another because they are different. This hatred of one another creates wars between the two, leading them to believe that only the better race will emerge unscathed.

Synopsis: When Earth was destroyed in the battle between humankind and Spiritkind, the Spirits relocated them to their new planet, Ziaro. Those with the intention of getting revenge on humankind were left on Ruined Earth. All is peaceful until a Spirit blinded by hatred invades Ziaro, determined to wipe out humankind. Lira Schyros is a Spirit, who, like others, will protect what she believes in. Growing up without support from her family, she must find a way to protect the world she loves and show her true colours. 

Bio Platform: I was born in Hongkong, but I live in Tokyo, Japan. I love writing and have started many stories on www.storybird.com, where I am known as starrywriter10. I've loved writing since the third grade and have always tried to take part in writing stories in any way I can. However, I have never published a book, only shared them online. For the past four years I went to an international school in China, but now I am going to one in Tokyo. Whenever I have the time, I study vocabulary on my own and try to keep improving my writing skills. My hobbies are reading, knitting, playing badminton, writing, cooking, and making crafts. 

No one ever has the right to touch you without your consent. No one has the right to treat you like dirt, and no one has the right to hurt you.

Find someone you trust, and tell them what's going on. Try and get help. And if whoever's abusing you threatens you, please, please do not listen to them, and do not be afraid. Get help.

Not to post back-to-back about it, but this is an exception:

We joined forces with Seattle Refined to commemorate & celebrate the life and lyrics of Soundgarden legend Chris Cornell with a new writing challenge. 

If Chris Cornell touched you, write about it. Share your story, poem, tribute, anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered. All proceeds from additional copies purchased will be donated to suicide prevention. The most shared post will be read on air and posted on seattlerefined.com

Go to Seattle Refined in Portals to enter and read. 

Thanks for stopping to read this. Go write.

-Prose.

Some introductory 'food' for thought...

"When people say they prefer organic food, what they often seem to mean is they don't want their food tainted with pesticides and their meat shot full of hormones or antibiotics. Many object to the way a few companies - Monsanto is the most famous of them - control so many of the seeds we grow."

  - Michael Specter 

"My grandfather used to say that once in your life you need a doctor, a lawyer, a policeman and a preacher but every day, three times a day, you need a farmer"

  - Brenda Schoepp 

"Economically, many folks don't feel they can afford organic. While this may be true in some cases, I think more often than not it's a question of priority. I feel it's one of the most important areas of concern ecologically, because the petrochemical giants - DuPont, Monsanto - make huge money by poisoning us."

  - Woody Harrelson 

Who is Monsanto? 

Monsanto is a Chemicals/Pharmaceutical/Agriculture company that was established in 1901 in the United States, and over the last century has occupied a particularly interesting and questionable history that has within recent times took to the global scale, growing into a multinational corporation, well nigh on the complete monopolisation of the Agriculture industry whilst having established connections to the chemical and pharmaceutical industry. They are less well known for their creation of Agent Orange, of which they claimed had no harmful effects on the human body, which was utilised very predominantly during the Vietnam War by the U.S. military as a defoliant, however, caused hundreds of thousands of deaths by poisoning, and has now led to an epidemic of birth deformities in the regions of use. Monsanto experienced more involvement in war through their involvement in the Manhattan Project, which resulted in the creation of the first nuclear bombs to be tested on Japanese civilian populations. They also have a background in their production of PCB's (Polychlorinated biphenyls) which once again, had the negative human and environmental effects ignored and misrepresented hitherto 1977 when they were banned, however, was not before many fresh water supplies and the air had been contaminated and was a known carcinogen in humans, along with other health damages. There was then of course their production of DDT's in the post war period that was advertised as a 'wonder-chemical' to be used in agricultural pesticides. However, it was later uncovered that its spraying caused a high percentage of food breakdown in crop and in humans caused breast cancer, male infertility, miscarriage, developmental delay and nervous system/liver damage. They even tested the effects of radioactive Iron on 829 pregnant women in a bizarre experiment. Having no shortage of scandalous and often at times frequenting blatantly corrupt behaviour on their dubious track record, with an abundance of data and study arising in protest of the company's use of dangerous chemicals and genetic modifications in food, it is surely best to question the activity and history of this company. 

What chemical poisons are being used?

Some of you are probably aware as to the fact that within many food products today there are various chemicals being used in modification, cultivation and in processing, many of which are harmful, often deadly to the human body and to the ecosystem. So harmful in fact that in cultivation workers are required to wear bio-hazard suits and due to the toxicity of the area in farming these GM crops, are required to erect signs in the surrounding area warning of the danger. 

So one chemical that has been pushed into foods and drink by Monsanto since the early 20th Century is Saccharin, an artificial sweetener made from coal tar which is used predominantly in Soda, Coke and processed foods, and is 700 times sweeter than sugar. In 1907 when Saccharin was first investigated by the USDA it was quoted as,"a coal tar product totally devoid of food value and extremely injurious to health" , and by the 1970's, when the chemical began to garner greater use, the FDA attempted to ban its use in products after discovering it causes cancers (particularly bladder cancer) in animals and humans, however, today is still used as an artificial sweetener, and between 1973-1994 the National Cancer Institute saw a 10% increase in bladder cancers. 

Monsanto are also responsible for the pushing of another artificial sweetener onto the market to be consumed by humans, that being Aspartame, even more harmful than Saccharin, and since being used in Coke, particularly Diet Coke, since 1983, the rest of industry followed suit. When melted down at 30°C into its liquid form in use for soft drinks, it become far deadlier than in its powdered state. It was found that it caused tumours and holes in the brains of rats and is more addictive than crack cocaine. After a multitude of independent scientific studies arose in protest of the use of Aspartame, Monsanto bribed the National Cancer Institute to produce fabricated data. Here are some of the know side effects of Aspartame consumption in humans according to the US Food and Drug Administration:

 • mania   

 • blindness

 • joint-pain

 • fatigue

 • weight-gain

 • chest-pain

 • coma

 • insomnia

 • numbness

 • depression

 • tinnitus

 • weakness

 • spasms

 • irritability

 • nausea

 • deafness

 • memory-loss

 • rashes

 • dizziness

 • headaches

 • seizures

 • anxiety

 • palpitations

 • fainting

 • cramps

 • diarrhoea

 • panic

 • burning in the mouth

 • diabetes

 • MS

 • lupus

 • epilepsy

 • Parkinson’s

 • tumours

 • miscarriage

 • infertility

 • fibromyalgia

 • infant death

 • Alzheimer’s

As is quite evident, Aspartame not only lacks any nutritional value, it also can have grave effects on humans when consumed. In fact, over 80% of complaints made to the FDA concern Aspartame and is now used in over 5000 products, yet facts are still being misrepresented and as primary producers of Aspartame such as Monsanto produce false data to cover their tracks. 

How is their monopoly being secured?

Monsanto within recent decades has somewhat become the archetype of corruption and corporatism, devoting many millions to Government lobbying in order to maintain its hegemony over agriculture, its use of harmful chemicals and to maintain restrictions of food labelling of GM products. In fact, the company seems to have a revolving door between itself and Government now, one example being the FDAs Arthur Hull resigning due to controversy and going straight to an employee at Monsanto as a Public Relations representative. This means that the FDA, the central official force against the use and proliferation of harmful products is in bed with Monsanto, the main proliferator.

Another creation Monsanto have pushed into pastoral agriculture is their Synthetic Bovine Growth Hormone which is a genetic modification of the E-coli virus to be used in dairy products and cows. And in order to make sure this product is pushed onto farmers, Monsanto sues any that do not use it with teams of lawyers. They also, in a far more cunning and destructive method, are able to and have destroyed other, natural crop cultivation by the use of their Genetically Modified crops themselves. What they have done is modified their crops in order that they self pollinate, and that bees that come into contact with their crops are killed, causing mass hive collapses, which then means any natural crop in surrounding farms die off due to a lack of bees to pollinate them, forcing them to join the monopoly of Monsanto's GM supply. 

Also, before the aerial spraying aluminium and barium into the skies began in 1998, that has seen a rise in the content of aluminium particles per/cm from near 0 to 30,000 in many areas, Monsanto patented crops that are resistant to soil with such high concentrations, meaning they now have legal ownership over crops, whereas the natural produce may be ungrowable in a number of places where the spraying concentration is high. On a side not, the spraying of aluminium into the sky since 1998 has also caused a massive spike in Alzheimer disease and lung cancers, rising from the tens of thousands to the millions of cases per year. 

To Conclude, Monsanto has recently made a very big merger deal with the Pharmaceutical company Bayer, the ones who produced Zyklon-B for the Nazi extermination chambers. Sure sounds like some safe operations. 

 - a short essay by FabiusSideman 

What if you could wish for anything in the world?

What if your wishes caused your death?

The sun blinded Alyssa's eyes when she opened them. Where was she?

A boat. She was on her own in a rowboat. How did she get there? She didn’t remember anything about her past, only her name. The years of her life had disappeared in an instant.

She was looking for something. She loved mysteries, unexplainable things. Was that why she was here, to try to trace the origin of a legend? People died because of it. Even though she couldn’t remember a lot, she knew it was important.

She gazed into the endless deep of the dark ocean. The reflection staring back wasn’t hers. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. If she didn’t find land, she would starve or die from dehydration. Taking the oars, she attempted to paddle underneath the scorching sun. Slow and steadily, the boat began listening to the movement of her oars.

Time passed but she didn’t notice. Before she knew it, the moon rose. She curled up in the boat, tired and miserable, and tried to sleep. She didn’t know how long it would take for someone to find her. With her lack of skills, she doubted that she would manage to reach land if there was any.

“The mirror in the lake.”

A nightmare jolted her awake. For a moment she forgot where she was, but it all sunk in. Rain started to pour. I will die, she thought. She tried to remember what she was looking for. The people that had died because of it. How? Why? Their bodies were never found, but their deaths had been confirmed. Alyssa's friend had told her something before. She remembered their face, but not the words that had left their lips. It was important. Something about an island. A mirror. A lake.

An island. The wind whispered her thoughts. If only she could find one now. If only she could find help.

An ominous rumble of thunder cracked in the sky. The sea began to tip. The waves pounded against the sides of the boat. The dull sound of splintering wood alerted her to the presence of a frighteningly large gash at the bottom of the boat. With nothing at her disposal, there was no escape.

A current of water rushed towards her as the sea climbed into the boat. The thought of death didn’t scare her - it was the thought that no one would remember her. Lightning flashed the sky overhead as she stood on the edge of the boat and dived into the sea before it could sink.

Her clothes weighed her down as she struggled to keep her head above the water. The churning sea grabbed her and dragged her into the darkness, filling her lungs, stopping her heart.

The last thing she saw was the outline of an island above the water.

                                          *                       *                        *

The wind caressed her hair. Consciously, she felt the gentle kiss of the waves on her feet. When she moved to stand, the golden sand underneath her shifted.

An island. By some miracle, she had been saved. She didn’t know how or why, but it didn’t matter. As long as she was alive and had access to food and water, she was safe.

“The mirror in the lake.”

The voice from the trees was soft and soothing. Although something at the bottom of her heart reminded her to stop, she wanted to follow it instantly.

“Ask what you wish. Whatever you want, you will get.”

Something about the island is different. She wasn’t the smartest person in the world, but she wasn’t stupid. When she bent to scoop the golden sand, it evaded her fingers. A spark reminded Alyssa of something her friend had told her before the incident.

A lake. A mirror. A tree. An animal. A fruit. A wish.

How could she forget? It was something they repeated over and over. They warned her that she had to remember, she had to be prepared. She hadn't understood what they meant at the time. Frightened, she darted into the forest, not knowing where to go.

Before she knew it, she came across a lake. The glimmering water was mesmerising in the sunlight, but something was wrong with it. She stepped forward and looked into it with vigilance, only to see no bottom.

“Welcome to my lake.”

She spun around, but no one was there.

“I remember you, though your face is different.” The voice chuckled softly. “I wonder how long it will take you to figure this out.”

She wanted to turn around and run, but somewhere deep down told her to stay. A part of her longed to eat the fruits, drink the water, and sink into the sand. “Where are you? Who are you? Can you help me get back home?”

“I am the mirror in the lake. Come closer. Look into the water. I can tell you anything.”

She didn't move.

“A wise choice. That at least, you remember. Everything else should be forgotten.”

One by one, her muscles unfroze and she took a step back. “Remember what?” Curiosity took the better of her.

“I didn’t think you would. If you can pass my tests, you can return to your home, as you wish. Whatever you ask will be granted.”

Something about the mirror’s voice told her that wasn’t true. Something at the back of her mind warned her not to trust it. Still, she had no other choice but to play its game. “What trials?”

Before she heard the reply, she saw a glimmer of metal beneath the lake. When she took a step forward to look in, she saw a large, ornate mirror with intricate details. She wondered why it hadn’t been there before.

“Before you start your trials, I must warn you. Do you want to know what happened to the others before she?”

“Yes.” The word left Alyssa's mouth without her permission. When she blinked, she woke up in the lake next to the mirror. Her body was still up on the ground, but somehow, her conscious mind had moved. How?

“Let me tell you a story . . .”

                                                    *                *               * 

“Everyday, I wait patiently for you. You’ll have different faces, but I always know who you are. You find me when you’re lost. I am the island of hope, I save you from your deaths. You come, begging to be saved, to have water, food, and shelter. Sometimes you find me because they want to. Sometimes you want to be here. Sometimes you want to have your wishes granted.

All have the same wishes; food, water, shelter, rescue. I can grant any wish in the world, no matter how big or small. Most ask for the cost, but there isn’t any. I only want for them to pass my tests.

First, I ask them to take me out of the lake. I tell them I want to be free from the water. I can hear and see them clearer above ground. When they jump into the water, I laugh. In my reflection, they witness their every mistake and failure, every consequence they will suffer. They drown, full of misery and regret. The lake of despair.

Some use the vines to pull me up without touching the water. They’re smart, but not clever enough to stop me. I show them their victories, everything they have ever won, everyone they have ever beaten. The doorway of false truth reflects in the water, and they too die thinking they can reach it. The fabricated image of hope.

Those that remain undeterred through all this are congratulated. The next test is to get a fruit from the trees, eat it, and throw the seeds into the lake. And I’m sure you've noticed that the trees cannot be touched or caught. They run around for centuries trying to climb one, but never even get close. Some pick up the rotten fruits on the ground and try to grow a new tree. It’s a rare thing, to have the courage to grow such a tree. It feeds on their blood and attaches itself like a leech around her hand until it bears a fruit. If they haven’t died of blood loss by then, they take the beautiful fruit. What they don’t know is that although it smells sweet, it is poisoned and acidic. Death in an hour. But always, there are those extraordinary people who know what to do. They tame the animals around the island - whether they are squirrels or birds - and feed it to them. The seeds can be taken from their droppings, which are given to me. The animal dies. The human lives. The tree of exertion. The fruit of misconception. The animal of sacrifice.

After all this trouble I grant their wishes. I’m not cruel. I do what they ask me to do. I give them everything they want. They ask for food and water. Working with what I have, I give it to them. Not my fault they’re poisoned. They ask to go home. I drop them off. Not my problem if they’re hit by a car or killed on the way. Some even live for a while, but their sanity is completely destroyed. They ask for wealth. I bury them in it. They ask and ask and ask and never stop. I give them everything, and they don’t understand. Occasionally, I’ll get the request of destroying myself. They’re the ones that know what I really am, what I really do. I shatter in front of their eyes, the shards piercing them. I reconstruct. I cannot be destroyed. I am the mirror of truth. I grant wishes of illusion.”

                                              *                    *                    *

Alyssa sat at the edge of the lake, staring into the water. For a moment, she thought she saw the shadow of a person standing by the mirror, holding it.

“What will you do?”

“Nothing,” she stood and stared into the water. “You told me everything I needed to know. I’m not doing any of your tests.”

The shadow smiled. “The island of false hope. Do you remember anything about your past? The friends you might have had, the ones that died. The words you remember. A lake. A mirror. A tree. An animal. A fruit. A wish. When will you finally get your memories back? How many times have you come here? How many more will it take to realise you will never escape? When you die, where do you go? How many trees have been made from your bones, grown from your blood? The number of trees marks the number of times you have died here. I await for your next visit.” It flickered and disappeared, and somehow she knew that it wouldn’t return.

She had been here forever, and she had never noticed. Time would repeat itself, and she knew what would happen after she died. For the rest of her life, she stayed on the island, which wasn’t as long as she had hoped. The only fresh water on the island was poisoned, and she didn’t trust the fruits, trees, or animals. She died at the edge of the lake, becoming part of the island. Her bones built trees, and fruits were grown out of her organs.

                                               *                   *                  *

The sun blinded Alyssa's eyes when she opened them. She was on her own in a rowboat. She gazed into the endless deep of the dark ocean. The reflection staring back wasn’t hers. Her face has changed. She didn’t remember anything except her own name. She remembered a list of words, something important. A lake. A mirror. A tree. An animal. A fruit. A wish.

She saw an island in the distance. Before it disappeared in the fog, she saw the glint of the mirror in the lake, and the shadow of a person waving at her.

Some introductory food for thought...

"Manufacturing and commercial monopolies owe their origin not to a tendency imminent in a capitalist economy but to governmental interventionist policy directed against free trade and laissez faire."

  - Ludwig Von Mises 

"Bureaucracies are inherently antidemocratic. Bureaucrats derive their power from their position in the structure, not from their relations with the people they are supposed to serve. The people are not masters of the bureaucracy, but its clients."

  - Alan Keyes 

The European Union as the New Eastern Bloc?

The Eastern Trading Bloc of the Soviet system had it's origins in the tail end of the Second World war, where, through the suppression of the whereabouts of Kremlin manipulation, had purported itself as democratic agreement, initially giving itself the appearance of a 'bourgeois democracy' as the Soviets called it. Though, inherently was, and clearly became an imperial establishment of control from the Soviet Bureaucracy. Likewise, the European Union, when originally advertised to the nations of Europe was propped up in a similarly unassuming manner, despite having been previously discussed and having the concepts of such a union already organised further back into 1948 at the Hague Conference. The parallels of such such unions (Eastern/Euro) are that they garnered the consent of the public through their foundation being merely upon an economic transnational policy, and not a political one, and therefor their basic parallels are that of deceit. 

The Eastern Bloc formed what was essentially a symbiosis of the state and the economy, something that naturally would be inherent under a Communist regime. However, the European Union, too, follows a similar reciprocal foundation, for it binds the state and economy, removing the separation of powers by Capitalistic enterprise, and instead, Centralises governance in a more oligarchical, corporate and bureaucratic apparatus. Operating through a complex arrangement of multitudinous committees and boards, whose members form a body of non-elected representatives. Essentially the European Union, on the guise of an economic market, has formed a centralised, quasi-private parliament akin to the Soviet style hegemony of the Eastern Bloc, and through soft-intimidation and misinformation, keeps it's members bonded. Lest it be forgotten that the Union is allegedly one of 'free trade', yet, when discourse begins to brew of leaving, as it did in Britain, why are we met with threats of economic disability and ostracization? That shows more the signs of a protection racket; of bureaucratic gangsterism, than it does of a voluntary cooperation of national markets.

The unification of Germany and the amalgamation of the European continent? 

In a more predictive sense, the European Union shares similarities in it's unifying policies, as it it does to the unification of the German states circa 1871. Spearheaded during the Bismarckian era of the late nineteenth century, Germany, well within a period of two decades transformed from a collection of trading states, to a fully amalgamated nation under Prussian dominated rule, but by what means did this occur, and in what ways does the unification of Germany share similarities to modern Europe? 

Of course, the chief processes of German unification lied in the economy, the political structure and culture, the political structure I have already covered. The establishment of a newly amalgamated economy among the German States was created through the breaking down of trade barriers between the previously independent states, one of which ways in doing so was the introduction of the single German currency (the Mark) along with a centralised banking system that allowed for both monetary control by the state and the removal of currency exchange between regions. Likewise the European Union brought with it the introduction of a common European currency (the Euro) and too, a European Central Bank. The new Germany also extended its unification to the creation of a common German culture that evoked a sense of nationalism, for instance, the establishment of a new national anthem and German military, to be paraded with pride. Too, the standardisation of the school system to create a state of coherent socialisation among the German generations. What we see with the European Union is also the creation of a common European national anthem and a cooperative European military (though a centralised European military is still developing) and through policies such as the Bolonga Process, the education system of Europe as a whole has been standardised to the specific image of the European Union, even a single European emergency number (112) is under proposition. 

It is said that history repeats itself, and perhaps what we are living through today is the amalgamation of the European states as transpired nearly 150 years ago within central Europe. And that the non-representative, self appointing parliament of the European Union, resembles almost a kind of bureaucratic Kaiserreich; a kind of Prussian hegemony of the modern day. 

 - a short essay by FabiusSideman  

Some introductory food for thought...

“What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or in the holy name of liberty or democracy?”

    - Mahatma Ghandi

“Totalitarianism is not only hell, but all the dream of paradise-- the age-old dream of a world where everybody would live in harmony, united by a single common will and faith, without secrets from one another."

   - Milan Kundera 

"Each generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it."

  - George Orwell 

Technocracy as scientific Totalitarianism?

Technocracy is the institutionalised control over all aspects of society by scientific and technological means through a centralised autocratic bureaucracy, whose totalitarian control is secured by the exploitation of its means. Universal utilitarianism over the psychologies, sociology, technology, pharmacology, etc. Whose state authority relies solely on the implementation of systematic indoctrination and propaganda, and the methodical interception of political dissidence or heresy against the established ideological order (in whatever form it takes). Human beings, as the most exhaustively studied species on Earth, have no shortage of data, nor any famine of instances littered among history that create the foundation of a deterministic human proclivity to be influenced by covert forces, often even when staring us in the face.

The institutionalisation of Peace as a political concept? 

Peace, among the broader consensus, means to many and ideal not only of great significance, but too, a matter of urgency in a world of almost instantaneous advancement in the technological means of warfare, with the capability of mass destruction or even global fallout ever possible at the push of a button. Peace, however, as a political concept (like all concepts) is multilateral in the diversity of its manifestation, and is one of vague understanding to those who might purport its value, or perhaps not to those who might reap its more nefarious facets. Institutionalised ideology (possibly even Peace as a concept) has a tendency to shift to the extreme spectrum of its implementation in order to compensate for, by physical and ideological assets, the inevitable opposition that will rise in its wake or during its implementation. This is why, despite the seemingly sympathetic characteristics of Marxist ideology, it requires, when in its institutionalised from, a means of repressing antithetical views or activity, for instance, within the Soviet system. Because of this proclivity, it is thus safe to assert that even Peace, when in an institutionalised state could adopt a form of despotic hard and soft power in the enforcement of its ideological tenets. 

Peace as an ideological control system?

It is necessary to understand the extent to which the concept of peace can be applied and that to which it's linguistic value could be altered or even neologistically reinvented. Peace, as generally perceived, means a vague ideal of harmony between people, generally applied to warfare and violence and the unnecessary suffering it causes. However, it is surely necessary to contemplate the id of its concept, which could still, by technicality, represent peace. Here is a legalese style list of how it could be applied, utilised as an ideological system of control: 

 • Opposing dialectic or political discourse between two or more groups or individuals as a breach of peace, for it produces a state of non-neutrality and thus a state of conflict (of ideas). 

 • Opposition to the state by activism or an expression of opinion as a breach of peace, for it may incite a state of conflict, or a spread of opposition. 

 • Multi-partisan politics as a concept that produces conflict (of ideas) and thus would be a breach of peace, and therefor is necessary to maintain a single-party system. 

These are some ways in which I have tried to apply the political concept of peace as could be utilised for an ideological system of control through the rule of law or other means. Peace is generally perceived as a concept existing on the macro, however, here having been applied to the micro, it becomes scrutinous and can target by technicality, basic liberties. Theoretically, peace can mean absolutist ideological neutrality. 

- a short essay by FabiusSideman

Conservative: lead by current Prime Minister, Theresa May, who on being appointed openly and pretty directly just said "Yes!" I would launch a nuclear weapon at hundreds of thousands of innocent women and children... sooooo. Other than that, she wants us to get the fuck out the EU whilst we still can, despite having been a remainer. 

Labour: 'lead' by Jeremy Corbyn, a straight up Socialist whose campaign adviser was a 40 year vet of the British Communist party. To vote Labour is now the hip thing to do if you wanna be down with the kids... because... Socialism, yuno. However, he does want to leave NATO, and despite telling Chatham House (the group that actually runs Britain) that he would press the big red button if it came to it, he wants to end the nuclear deal with Trident. Hay, ho... So long the final remnants of free market enterprise, welcome welfare state and a good old (shitty) service economy!

Liberal Democrats: currently lead by Tim Farron, that guy who thinks gay people can be cured... they're previously known for having made one big promise (abolishing tuition fees) and completely doing the opposite when they got in, but then again, that sums up pretty much every party. 

UKIP: considered the most 'right wing' party in the race, though we've gone so far left now that eating fish and chips may become an act of right wing propaganda... Most known for campaigning Brexit and their previous eccentric leader Nigel Farage (now under Paul Nuttal), and despite getting nearly 4 million votes last election, only procured a single seat due to the first past the post system. Widely considered a dead party now though...

Green Party: literally think they can control the temperature of the Earth itself, the Green Party have the kind of voters you would see who couldn't be more hipster even if they tried, likely hugging a tree somewhere as I write this. They are very faithful to the religion of climate change and pray everyday Treesus Christ. 

Scottish Nationalist Party: lead by a thing *cough* woman called Nicola Sturgeon. I have to give it to her, she's very persistent, and even though a bunch of Scots don't want it, she want to dump Britain and hand them over to the EU instead. 

She showers me from above with falling spades,

having then gift-wrapped the stems with little hearts...

a full public service which she's housed in shades

of now red and black poison injected darts.

You'll find her masked as a queen, holding multiple aces,

bluffing a community, under multiple faces.

Diamonds of wisdom she pretends to display,

when diamonds to cut is the truth of her play.

Stacking the deck against me, she continues to game,

a system that she's rigged, with absolutely no shame.

Since all she believes is no feign then no gain,

I must question then at what cost and whose pain?

Club members pleased as she slanders, applaud -

the clubbing of a young man's heart, oh God - -

please help guide my hand to fold instead of fight,

instead of gambling my virtue out of spite,

against a sick and sinister soul's sad plight.

Force me not to poke-her with your spades of light,

win or lose...flip my dream turned nightmare tonight.

I am struggling with this motion to check: live or expire,

as a resolution that is urgent and morbidly dire-

'twas just on the table, then on the pan, now off to The Friar,

as His second is needed, to go all-in this, trial by fire.

Father, let it be in my cards, to do what is just...

and help me to cremate, this invoice, for poison lust.

Lord, make me not risk laying to waste,

this old bully from a schoolyard fight;

bless me with luck and heavenly might,

for a tournament noble and chaste.

Consider the nights I’ve spent digging her ditch,

please honor the time that I've lost to this witch,

whose rage’s raised from an emotional glitch,

of jealousy folded in a single stitch.

I’m hereby knocking to check on slaying this snitch,

calling Azrael to push the dumbwaiter switch.

Although a 50/50 chance is blindly set by your crown,

I pray that her pair of elevator arrows, both, Show-Down!

Nay, help make me the hero and this order delay…

cancel making me victim to becoming one's prey,

just protect me from evil as I kneel and I pray:

“our horsemen, who art in Heaven, now summoned and nigh--

pass, by,

pass, by.”

And now four suited stallions, flush with black hearts,

neigh loudly but voiceless, in front of their carts.

Marking her players who all vote as one,

to majority counts of four to one.

I am still human at the end of this day,

so I ask you, Yahweh, to end this decay.

I wish not to cash-out on her last sigh,

no reins or noose, to soon hold up and tie.

I’ve good left in me and I wish to try

asking your horsemen for a pass to buy - -

a way,

away,

from this burned passerby.

I'll pay her ante across the River Styx,

chips sprung from her eye sockets with reaper sticks,

fortune stuffed in her pockets with fire picks.

Proclaiming the odds at even they cry:

‘all bets are final to live or help die’!

Swords at the ready and ready to fly,

riders are shuffling to deal upon high,

sickles now flopping like hail from the sky,

turning her tombstone with acid and lye,

the river’s mouth’s showing halva and rye –

goodnight fine horsemen,

hello and goodbye.

Kindly pardon one last thing,

just as a postscript, my King…

pairing Hell and high purpose within this fog of straight sight,

I present to your horsemen, this final kicker tonight - -

pass her by /

pass her, bye.

Copyright © 1986-2017

Alan Salé

All Rights Reserved

contact: AASalehi@gmail.com

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