Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Winter Waters

Winter Waters
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
The wind was icy
as warm waves swept over me,
and the cold sand bit my skin.
More flakes fell
as the waves became softer,
and the salty air consumed my senses.
I slowly stood up on the sand
as the warm waves pulled away
to leave me freezing in the wind’s icy grip
as my hand fell on a sparkling pearl.
I glanced at the pearl
as snowflakes covered my hair
and warm waves kissed my feet
while I left footprints in the white sand.
I shivered as another breeze blew,
and the waves called me back
to their warm embrace
while my footprints left proof I was there.
I left the pearl on the sand
for the winter to come and cover it
under its blanket
while the warm water pulls back into the ocean
to leave me on my own
in a world gone gray.

Faded Shades of Rainbow

Faded Shades of Rainbow
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
A soft breeze rustled across deep green grass, perfectly cut to match its square interior. Sun settled down over small, white houses with glass screen doors propped wide open. Shadows fell over newspapers now lifted up, last relics of a world gone quiet, but the road whispered of life to come. But none never did.
“Good-morning, neighbor.”
“Good-morning, neighbor,” he replied as he walked to his house. “Just another day of paradise,” and the door slammed shut behind him.
Sunlight streamed into the small kitchen. His wife, Lily was busy cooking breakfast. She always made scrambled eggs and bacon, his favorite, and she hummed as she cooked. It brought a smile to his face as he sat at the kitchen table and drank the O.J. that she left for him, but then he grimaced at the pills were left for him too. But it was routine, and he quickly took them, chasing them with another gulp of his drink.
“Oh, no,” he said a moment later as he opened the newspaper out before him.
“What’s wrong, Harvey?”
“Mrs. Deville passed away last night.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yeah. Another one gone. How many of us are left now?”
“Not too many,” his wife replied, and then she resumed cooking breakfast to put the news out of her mind. “Beautiful day outside.”
“It always is, love. Another day of paradise.” He flipped through the newspaper. “I wonder if the mail will come today,” and his wife chuckled in response. “What? I say something funny?”
“You always ask about the mail, but there has been no mail that has come here for so very long.”
“I know. It’s routine.” He placed the newspaper beside the now empty glass. “It’s amazing we still have food left.”
“We were the lucky ones.”
“Were we?”
“Harv, don’t start. Be happy. We’re in paradise.”
“Until we die.” She snapped the stove off and kept her back to him, but he knew those words cut her deep. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Why? Why have you been talking about this lately? Why!” Now, he fell silent. “Harv, I need to know. What aren’t you telling me?” Now, she faced him. “Out with it.”
“I’m sorry, love. I think it’s time.” Her lip shook. “I think it’s time.”
“No. The doctor said that you were fine. You’re fine.” She brought his breakfast over to the table and sat beside him. “Let’s eat breakfast, and sit outside like we always do.”
“The doctor left isn’t the kind that saves lives. He’s the kind that tries to. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t care. He said that you were fine, and that is good enough for me.” She slowly ate her breakfast. “You were right before.” He glanced at her. “There aren’t too many of us left, but I don’t want to think about that. It scares me.”
“I know it does.” He patted her hand. “We’re getting closer to it.”
“Don’t say the E word. I hate that word, and the newspaper always has that word on the front page. It’s mocking us. We lived here for so long afterward, but…”
“But no one has come.” Tears filled her eyes. “We’re the last.”
“All that matters to me, Harv, is that you and I are still here. You and I, and we, you are not going anywhere. So,please, just eat your damn breakfast, “ and he laughed at that. She laughed back. “Silly old man.”
“Silly old nag,” and she elbowed him for that. “So, gardening today?”
“No. I did that yesterday while you mowed the lawn. I think we should sit outside for awhile.”
“And stare at the road?”
“I don’t see why.” She finished her breakfast quickly and then moved toward the sink to wash her dishes. “Maybe, take a walk?”
“It’s a small neighborhood. Three miles at best.”
“We haven’t walked in such a long time.”
“Those empty houses bother me.” He looked out the window. “Now, the house across the street will be empty.”
“But we’re still here.”
“Yeah. We’re still here,” and he finished his breakfast. “A walk would be nice.” His left arm twitched, but she didn’t notice. “How about ten minutes?”
“Or less.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Silly old man,” and she left him alone after that.
“My beautiful wife of fifty years,” he whispered. “How you will miss me.”
His body already felt weak. He still fought to stand up and walk outside. The cool breeze greeted him. The grass still smelled so sweet. The last of his neighbors waved their hello’s and picked up their newspapers. The road remained empty. He wished a car would go by or a mail truck, something to tell him that the rest of the world was still there, but he knew the answer. They all did. This was not paradise, but they chose to believe that. They needed to believe that, and another shadow fell to the ground. And as heartbreaking screams filled the air, the breeze became bitter, smacking at the newspaper left across the street. Its headline always screaming, “Extinction Is Near.”

Thursday, September 14, 2017

The Dead Man In The Corner

The Dead Man In The Corner
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

The Town Hall was hot. The ceiling fans were batting a thousand, failing miserably at cooling off the tight room. The windows were shut, forbidding the world entrance. Every seat was taken, and all eyes were on the two parties at the table in the front. And the police officers stood at the ready in the back, waiting to escort anyone out that dared to show an ounce of emotion, and if they did, then those individuals would be spending the night in prison. If they showed more than a bit of emotion, then they might just disappear.
No children under ten were allowed. I had just turned ten, and for the past few days, my parents berated me about the rules to this kind of meeting. If I reacted, had an outburst or even shed a tear, they would pay dearly for that. They almost didn’t let me come, but this hit close to home. My father flicked his lighter open and shut. It was the only emotion that he allowed himself to have, and my mother sat between us. I could feel her eyes slicing me in half, watching for the slightest action to come, so I sat still with my hands folded tightly in my lap. I held my attention forward. I wanted to turn to her and give her a reassuring smile, but if I dared do that, then she would snatch me up and throw me out of the room. 
The clock chimed. A fat man in an ill-fitting suit shakily rose from his metal chair. This was bad. You could tell that he didn’t want to do this. You could tell that he didn’t want to be here, and he was sweating badly. Lucky for him, he was only the intro, and as he talked, nobody dared to breathe. He gestured toward the three men in black suits. He then gestured toward two women and another man also dressed in black. The older woman was crying, but she was allowed. It was her son, after all.
The three man in black would begin. As they stood together in front of the podium, the fat man collapsed back into his chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He was trapped just like me, forced to watch this show, and our eyes met, briefly. But we understood one another. Then, our attention returned to the men that depicted him as a heinous villain. They were only allowed to display the facts. If they stepped out of line, the police would be ready, and they edged forward, warning these men that they were ready to do so. So, they stayed with the facts, and for an hour and a half, they droned on. And that woman cried more.
It was finally her turn, but she was overtaken by grief. The man and woman with her spoke as if talking about an angel, a kind and warm-hearted human being. They gave their deepest sympathy and regret over the dead. They talked about the good times, times in fiction, but they kept a good poker face. They were allowed to stray a bit from fact. He was after all family, their family, and they held her hand, each one of them as they spoke about him. And their turn concluded with that woman shouting in misery that he was a good boy. He was her son. He just lost his way, and then she stepped away from the podium, never once mentioning the dead.
It was time to vote. I was not allowed. Only thirteen and up were allowed to vote. My parents held the glass balls in their hands. One white. One black. When asked to make a decision, only one ball could be held in the air. Sometimes, this action led to bitter divorce, the death of friendship, and animosity to others. My parents for once agreed with each other, and they held the balls high over their heads. The room mirrored their actions. A sea of black shined in the air, and the decision was made for him not to be buried. But for him to burn.
I finally looked at him. He was propped up on a wooden chair with arms. He was dressed in the best suit. His face was painted white, and his hair was combed back. He held a gentle appearance, an angel as they said, but the monstrosities that he had done could not be ignored. There were so many dead, and for what reason? What madness could be explained in his actions? Why did my brother have to be one of them?

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Now on Fanfiction.net: The Cornerstones of Midnight (Killjoys Fanfiction)

At the cornerstones of midnight, 
the rain came crashing down, 
washing away the remains of that bloody night, 
and I was left stranded, 
trapped between darkness and fright. 
But I never broke. 
I learned to fight. 

Check out the entire series of The Cornerstones of Midnight (SYFY's Killjoys Fanfiction) here:

Friday, September 08, 2017

Which One To Read First?

I will be wrapping up my Killjoys Fanfiction this weekend, and then after that, I plan a short writing break to do some reading.  I have six books on the reading list, and I plan on reading all of them.  And I may even do a book review on them, but I don't know which one to read first.

I'll let you decide.  Please, take a look below, and leave a comment on which one to read first.

1. Dusk and Summer by Joseph A. Pinto

2. Emancerian Chronicles by Myael Christopher Simpkins

3. Pieces Like Pottery by Dan Buri

4. House A by Jennifer S. Cheng

5. The Head by Brian Barr

6. The Scattered and the Dead by Tim McBain and L.T. Vargus

I probably won't be doing another reading batch until the winter, but if you would like me to read and maybe review your book, please comment me with the title of the book and where to find it.  I will add it to my Favorites on Amazon, so when I do have the extra money, I can go and buy it.

Hope everyone is safe and well especially with Hurricane Harvey and Irma.

Melissa R. Mendelson