Throwback Thursday: Discovery in Disaster

She'd gotten so behind in daily chores
That she had harvested a diff'rent reed
Than what was used for bedding. Khamenhors
Did what she could, then hurried off to feed
Her children. That night she and Amunhild
Slept on papyrus, at least until rain --
Most unexpected in this season -- filled
Their dwelling with floodwaters. Her quick brain
Took note of what the fibers from beneath
Their linens had become, first pressed quite flat
Then soaked, then sun-dried! She grabbed up a sheaf
Of fresh papyrus from the Nile's banks "That
Was not an accident. Look what we've found!
Its usefulness outweighs our loss all round!"

Weird Wednesday: The Right Fairy Tale

The seeds she'd planted simply wouldn't sprout,
And soon she noticed that the water's taste
Was foul straight from the tap. She asked about
And no one's garden seemed to flourish. Waste?
Pollution? Effluent? What was the cause?
No scientist could answer that; no test
Could tell just what had happened. All the laws
Protecting their environment -- the best
In any region -- all were working well.
Yet e'en the bees and butterflies had failed.
At last a chance remark -- "So this is hell" --
Revealed what had occurred. A demon, jailed
In ages ere the Flood, had broken free
And cursed the land and soil -- all it could see.

Terror Tuesday: The Survivor

Don't ask me how I've been. You'll never see
What I have seen, or feel what I have felt.
Just like I'll never know the guilt you free
And untouched souls profess. My hand was dealt.
'Twas I the creature took in all your stead,
'Twas I whose body suffered from its touch,
Whose mind was so polluted. Mine's the bed
Where... No, you cannot trick me. It's too much.
Stop thanking me. I didn't choose to spare
The rest of you. I'd gladly, if the chance
To change things came, throw you at it to bear
What I did. I'm no savior. At a glance,
I'd say... All right, then, fine. Come feel
The skin that I don't have left. It's all real.

Mystery Monday: A Southern Family Secret

Exploring was a trait passed with the genes
In Linus Benson's family. He, too,
Grew restless when in too-familiar scenes,
And so when he was grown, he aimed for blue
And boundless skies he'd conquer with a plane
Of his design. But on his maiden flight
Aboard the craft he'd named Untamed Elaine
(His mother), long before he came in sight
Of far Antarctica, he was pulled down
By forces quite unknown. Soon did he find
That he not alone. The island, crowned
By a volcano's dormant cone, did bind
His wild imagination, for the shape
Of his own mother, stone-carved, made him gape.

Satire Sunday: Decisions, Decisions

"I need some bigger pecs. That model's fired.
And anyway, our skin tones just don't match."
"Dear Leader, but that brand new guy we hired
Can fix all that. He's really quite a catch.
What he can't do with software--" "No! We don't
Manipulate my image that way. Real
Or nothing," growled the president. "I won't
Have history say I am not The Deal."
The model, goosebumps raising on his skin
Bowed low and soon withdrew. "My god, he's big,"
Admired Dear Leader. "All right, drop him in.
But spray tan him some more, 'cause that's the gig.
My head upon his body. Chop him now.
I want to wear him out tonight. Don't bow."

Sci Fi Saturday: Panspermihahaha

To seed a world with life is no small thing,
And rarely was it done with true intent.
This time, though, that strange faction, the Green Wing
Watched eagerly from far off as they sent
Those precious cells away to colonize
A planet of their choosing. How the wait
Did torture them! The generation's eyes
Who would behold their fruit would have a great
Responsibility, millennia
From then. But when the time came for to see
What had evolved, nought but hysteria
Resounded through the spheres, a vast "tee-hee!"
There's xenogenesis, when children's paths
Diverge from parents... But these just brought laughs!

Fantasy Friday: Not in Wonderland, Part XV

At last she simply trudged into the dawn
That stained the sand and sage in orange and gold.
A painter might enjoy it. Alice, head
Afire, and feeling like she'd grown quite old
Just wandering this wasteland, soon could see
A weird mirage. A table in the dust
Was set for tea. Some figures, maybe three,
Bent over it, but with each passing gust
Of scorching wind, would rise and move along
Around it, on occasion trading blows.
Not far beyond them, Alice got a strong
Impression of a fin approaching. Those
Who reveled there ignored it as they poured
Sand from a pot into their cups, too bored.