She Played Solitaire

It took about sixteen hours to fly from Edinburgh to Hong Kong. Hours spent reading a personal diary that spoke of who he was during his past years in Scotland. The adventures that bordered legality and those that could threaten his freedom, all written by hand and bound in black leather. For him it was a keepsake but it could have been viewed by others as evidence. He knew that it was in his best interest to destroy it but there was an old sense of justice that lurked in the back of his mind. A voice from a younger self saying that everyone should be held accountable for their actions without exception. His time would come and that day the whole truth should be set free and so he kept the diary as it was the only record of that period of his life.
Upon arrival in Kong, a smartly lady dressed in white met him at the airport. She was expecting him but she was not expected. As she stepped out in front of him to announce her presence he side stepped her to meet his scheduled rendez-vous while mentally noting the face for future reference. She did of course resurface at several points during the making of his new life asking him to get in to a taxi. One day, after she had ceased appearing for three years, she turned up once more. He got in to the taxi and was never heard of again but the diary. The diary was in different hands.

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The Nudge

It was the year of lost souls and the mercenary had just collected the fruit of his labour. At his feet lay a warm corpse still foaming at the mouth. Dead from a self inflicted prick of a needle and the push of a syringe pump. The dragon had taken his soul and left his scrawny remains on a filthy carpet, in a squalid flat, in what was supposed to be one of the better areas of Glasgow.
Above him stood an angel, cold, dark with an air of still menace. His constant stare prying for the slightest hint of life that may be left in his burden…

Hostile Grounds

Turn your mind
Outside in
Inside out
Learn, move
Hold your ground
Until your heart
Is the only sound

Don’t run
On emotion
Don’t be
A machine
Always
Be ready
Choose
When to be seen

As these are hostile times
For the sharper minds
Surrounded by fools
Who assimilate their kind

MM – WIP

At One

A child in the wild
A taste of salt and wet sand
He wanders alone
As a storm sweeps the land
A Western wind
Waves foaming at their peak
In the greys and dark blue
A soul he soon seeks
A trident, leviathan
From the stories of old
A glimmer of reason
In the violence and cold

A voice from an elder
Harks through crashing waves
He pays it no heed
Not wishing to be saved
For the elements
Are savage, hypnotic
A bustling embrace
His mind starts to wander
beyond time and through Space
The inside comes out
The self disappears
As he feels the source
Of the Great ocean’s tears

Para Bellum

He was a warrior who fought silent wars within the realms of peace.

Dark nights with razor blades and slow poisons had created a disdain for humanity within him.

He felt like a demon as he prowled the populace with a smile, tracking the victims to be of some high profile demagogues.

His task was to keep certain hands clean, to be the tool of hidden agendas and the fate of the unwitting.

Fools who had crossed swords with the unspoken rules of engagement.

The Watcher

“Take a stroll through the park if you want to catch a shadow. Nature will become a six sense that pin points the watcher so be at ease with the fauna and you will find the man.”

Dax Kando