Comments Posted By Mae

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He was a man, listening, always looking out at the universe before him. It was simple, he recorded all the knowledge, all of the artifacts before they were whisked away, never to be seen again. Oh, how he knew he would never see them.

» Posted By Mae On 11.21.2017 @ 5:14 pm


They don’t melt the pounds off, no matter what her mother keeps trying to sell her. The diets don’t work, but it’s not like she’s really trying. She just wants to be left alone.

» Posted By Mae On 01.18.2016 @ 9:24 am


Beyond the end. Go over your life… no chance to be revised. What’s done is done. Don’t look back.

» Posted By Mae On 10.21.2015 @ 10:10 am


fun to be with, genuine, loyal, makes me happy, cute, different, adventurous, loving, exciting, fun, caring, real, honest, straight forward, smart, responsible, mature,

» Posted By Mae On 07.17.2014 @ 2:33 am


He woke up to the smell of decadence and burning charcoal.

» Posted By Mae On 06.11.2014 @ 2:31 am


The surgery has heightened her senses. she can see the squiggling lines of the foreigners’ writing on the billboard across the Flyway. well, she could see it before, but now she can see the individual shapes. if she could read it, she would be able to.
she can hear the crying of a baby down on the second block. The poor thing’s parents are fighting. The rumble of the airships outside is loud, even the shiny new ones, said to be nigh on silent. Hak’s junker, a roar on the best of days before the surgery, gives her a pounding headache. Hak himself is loud, with his clomping prosthetic and the loud rustle of his piloting uniform.
“C’mon kid, ya can’t lay in bed all day.” he’s trying to be quiet, whispering, but his voice is gruff.
“Go ‘way, Hak.” she turns from the grimy window, and falls back into bed. she’s not ready to face the world.
“Damn it, kid. Up and at ’em.”
“Go jump in the Flyway. My shoulders hurt.”
“Those wings of yer’s won’t do ya any good if ya don’t use ’em.” he kicks a metal tin across the floor. it scatters its collection of bent nails and extra screws. Not that she’ll need them, without her airship. An Officer had smashed into the Sparrow, with a body built for speed and not combat they fell right out of the air. Luckily, Hak had been right behind her, and caught her before she could go down with the ship. there was enough shrapnel in her body to kill her, from what the doc said. they picked it out, and gave her a way to take to the air again. the wings, made of spare parts and the few pieces of the Sparrow that were found after, shudder against her back. they move with her some how, despite being metal and wood and canvas. Hak’s of the opinion that her ship’s still with her, moving where she guides, but closer than before.
“I always knew you were a romantic.” she’s saying aloud, Hak’s frown wavers, and then he’s grinning the way he does when there’s a race on. he looks at her expectantly, tapping his metal foot. “Well, kid. Ya gonna get up?”
“Yesser, you old hack.”
He laughs, and she doesn’t mind the noise as they clamber outside and onto his junker.

“Hey Hak, wanna race?”

» Posted By Mae On 03.23.2014 @ 11:54 am


I was at a complete lost for words.

It was the morning, and outside of my door where an immense amount of people. At the forefront of the group was my ex, Lucas. I should have expected this, really. He was always a charismatic person that tended to take things way too far. But to raise an mob against my house, armed with eggs? It was a new low.

» Posted By Mae On 03.18.2014 @ 3:12 am


the matter was a trifle, really. the merchant had nothing to worry about beyond keeping that babe fed. And if there was some way to do that sitting in the corner of the tavern, well so be it. she was not going to involve herself with the odd woman, no matter how pitiable that boy’s wide eyes were, staring out from his ma’s arms. Besides, her Pa would have her head on their best platter if he heard she was giving away free meals. Nina hefted the heavy tray onto one shoulder, squeezing through the crowd of sailors. perhaps the merchant was waiting for someone. the babe’s father? No, she hadn’t seen hide or hair of anyone else with the red-haired mask merchant other than her tiny son. as Nina passed the merchant’s table she heard the woman coo quietly to her son, murmuring in growls and words that Nina had never heard before. She prided herself on picking up the many languages and dialects that passed through Shore’s End, but if this woman knew one more, where was the harm in learning it?
This is how Chimera becomes known in the tiny village.

» Posted By Mae On 02.17.2014 @ 4:07 pm


The machine’s electronic eyes flicker, animated iris flashing blank.
“Try the green wire, you just cut the video feed.” “Ah. Will do.”
Rakes nods and moves his pliers over a few inches. The machine’s face contorts, and the iris’ flash, pupil dilating as if in pain. he hates the realistic effect of the facial controls, of the expressions that it can display. It makes him feel guilty for de-wiring the poor machine.
“There isn’t a green wire. What do I do?”
“try again, but cut something other than the video this time.”

» Posted By mae On 11.22.2013 @ 10:54 pm


She watched the birds flutter over the wall. It was unsurprising really, that she was so fascinated with the birds’ flight. She had never left the compound, and no one she’d known had even left the outer garden gates. The Mock-Birds flew in and out all day though.

» Posted By mae On 11.07.2013 @ 9:19 pm


she wanders in a gallery of painted faces, and when one of them speaks, she is surprised.
because the eyes of the blind see what we try most to hide.
All around her Rembrandt faces and Crayola masks blend and warp, and it is only the mime’s sorrowful eyes that remind her.
a thousand wordless voices and thirty sightless eyes. can you see what is presented before you?
they ask, but she does not answer.
mothers fathers brothers sisters, teacher, friend, lover, neighbor. all the opinions clash. and she is confused.

» Posted By mae On 10.06.2013 @ 10:03 am


trapped in the cradle of your boddy,
the heart thunders, beating, throbbing,
and finally stills,
trapped in a crib of rib bones.

» Posted By Mae On 09.28.2013 @ 10:41 pm


She squints, watching the man across the aisle. He’s tapping on the safety bar. It would have driven her crazy if hadn’t held the rest of himself absolutely still. Her ears could hear every breath, and the shifting of his hands, fingers beating staccato on the metal.
Tap, and the bus stops, letting at a few wanderers on. tap. tap, and she shifts, hearing the old woman three rows back cough.
He stills, and she freezes, curious.
tap, tap, clatter.
an umbrella thumps to the floor, and the tapping starts again.
He wears a hood, but that is all she can identify about him. Her eyes burn and she closes them, listening to the tapping. It was consistent at least.

» Posted By mae On 09.27.2013 @ 2:41 pm


They say there is only so many ways, to say a thing, but I suppose, that we might as well proceed with the most efficient. I am a liar, a cad, and a fraud.
Shocking yes? Well. I am sure there have been those who thought such. I rose to become king, at the tender age of fourteen. Do you want to know how?
My youth is not a memorable time, and that is what makes it so. I was normal, for a street rat. I lived in a hovel with twenty others, many of them half my age. So when a man, done up in livery, looking almost royal(I know now, he couldn’t have been station or so ahead of us.)appeared, offering a way out, I damn well took it.
There was only one thing I had to do.
“Befriend the prince. Become his confidante. Once he trusts you: steal his form.”
The man I’d met that day, a magician. He taught me all that I needed to know. Black magic, spells forbidden in many parts of the world. Then he dressed me up, and sent me to the castle.
I know not why I was given this mission. Why he wanted me to steal my friend’s body. None of that ever reached me. But, there is a sight inconsistency in it all.
It took three years to do my duty, Art (the prince), died. I took his shape, and then, they trained me up as the prince, thinking that his slum-rat friend gone, and himself magically cured. My prince was sick, treacherously so. After his (my) miraculous recovery, they never sent any doctors, physicians, nothing of the sort. Never. I was left to my own devices. The magician, he returned, and later that year, the king died. When Prince Art became the boy king, he became the adviser. His name was never something I learned, so I called him Magi, and he called me Sooklor (thief).
He died today. Well, not officially yet. Its still dark, and no one will find him until dawn. No I didn’t kill him, nor did I orchestrate his demise.
How do I know then?
Truthfully? Because I woke up as myself.
Granted I was fourteen years older, but as myself, something I abandoned years ago.

But the magician is dead, and King Arthur is gone. I? I will leave, give my bride a kiss, and leave back to the slums.
I was never the king, and I am merely a half rate magician. What good am I in the court?

» Posted By mae On 09.20.2013 @ 3:12 pm


The desert’s been dead for twenty years. That what my grandparents say. I think that its been much longer though. I’ve seen the way the ground crackles, and the way Ms. Jenny down the street stares at the sky every time we see a single wisp of cloud. maybe they are wrong and its been twenty-two, or twenty-five. Or maybe we all are, and its been centuries since we needed water, and to expect it is like expecting to live forever.
The desert’s been dead a long time. And we’re still here.

» Posted By mae On 09.16.2013 @ 3:36 pm


He seldom sees her afterward. its not uncommon though. His mechanics are such that he needs little rest or recharge. Thus makings him the TCR’s most valuable Auto. Others, so many of his less efficient brethren, take twelve hours for every three they work. His Creator stops by once a week, updating his condition stats, keeping his charcoal tresses in check, ensuring that he is the best looking Automaton ever made. Lady Sol rides the rails every week, on a trip to the Greenfield Park Cemeteries. Once, during his off time, he uploaded the current data on her family into his processors. Her mother the Lady Luna is thirteen years dead, while Sir Flinn lives on.
The lady Sol is exactly twenty-four years old, born on Same Day (day of universal peace.) In the year 2176. She will celebrate her Twenty-fourth birthday on the last Same Day of 2100’s, and begin her twenty-fifth in the 2200’s.
ICA-RUS’ Creator mentioned that his interest in the Lady Sol is unnatural, and that he should stop, lest he be let go from the TCR.
“Be wary of the sun and sea, boy. The fall wont be forgiving.”
“Good day Madam Dela, your company is much appreciated.” he responds.
Perhaps the glitch in his system wasn’t quite cleared out? He notes to do a scan during his off hour.

» Posted By mae On 09.13.2013 @ 7:28 pm


Re-R-R-R-Re-As-Assembled. Reassembled. Recon-Reconstructed. He is-is being repaired.
Hi-His thoughts have j-just w-woken up. There was an Error in his sis-system. His creator has fixed it though. Soon he will be activated. and then the Dre-Dreams will end. He will be put to work, in the world when he is awoken. Perhaps he will be a hired hand. Or an assassin. Those are some of the jobs he’s familiar with. Or may hap he’ll be rented to an artist, in need of a model. His programing ensures that he will look far more human than any of his brothers.
Initializing Program Start Up: code F-L-1-G-H-T
Oh. There is his power s-switch.

“Hello, there. I see that you are computing again. I am unsure what my predecessor had you do during your life-span. But, you have been refitted to be a Railway Use Server. The only one of your kind, personally, As you still have your H.A. formatting.”
“Oh, we may have to adjust your volume levels.”
“APOLOGY-Apologies madam.”
“Ah, much better, well come along then, You have a railway car to attend to.”
He steps down from his platform. His current creator, a old woman with dusty clothes leaves the room. Looking down he takes note of his newest appearance. His originally blue gray skin has been every race, currently, he is Caucasian. Long hair falls on his shoulders, and is an off shade of charcoal. That will have to be cut. He recalls long hair being unacceptable in polite society, during his last Life-Span.

» Posted By mae On 09.11.2013 @ 7:23 pm


He’s watching from the window again. She wonders who he is, dressed in those faded jeans and regulation shirt. He’s not visitor material, but he hasn’t disowned his individuality, and conformed to the eye wrenching blankness. Like all the staff.
” Mr. Greene, you need to return to your room now, Doctor King is on her way for your session.”
He rises from his chair, and bows slightly, to the woman speaking. She watches the two leave, and then her own watcher, a tiny scamp in egg shell grey.
“Who was he?” he murmurs, wide eyed and curious.
“Who was who? Little bird, what were you talking about?”
“That man. He’s in my section, but…He don’t act like anyone else.” the boy seats himself on the arm of the worn sofa. He perches like a bird indeed.
“Mr. Greene, of course. Didn’t you hear?”
“I don’ know,” the boy rubs his growling belly.” Sorry. I’m hungry.”
“Go eat then.”
“They won’t gimme what I need. But… you could?”
“Leave me alone. I taste like soap.” She stands and leaves the boy alone. she knows what he thinks he is, and she wants nothing to do with it. So she rushes back to her room and shuts the door.
The strange man who sits by the window, is released the next day. Little Bird is called a fraud, they throw him in another institution, and his parents are sued by the hospital. And she, she goes into the rec room, and sits by the window. Perhaps she will figure out what he saw.

» Posted By mae On 09.09.2013 @ 7:57 pm


The aura of the stranger made her want to scream. She wasn’t sure if it was the other person, but she feared that they were what was driving her mad.

» Posted By mae On 09.06.2013 @ 3:27 pm


She steps into her car, the red one, behind the dining car. Her escort leaves her at the door, so it is just herself, and the automaton powering the controls. He is one of the newer models, the ones that look human. She remembers the ones her father used to have when she was a child. Big bulky things, that resembled gorillas rather than people. No, he is streamlined, his hands just past his waist, and not his knees.
“Welcome aboard the Trans-City Railway, Miss. Destination, please?”
“Greenfield park.”
“Thank you.”

“Please keep all luggage inside the carrier at all times. Should you have any need of assistance, The In-Car Automaton will be available.” the PA crackles once more falls and silent.
The ICA turns out to be a Railway Use Server, middle class for most Auto’s used by the TCR.
“Miss, Are you in need of refreshment?” The ICA-RUS inquires politely.
Amelia looks up from the missive in her hands. she shakes her head.
“Perhaps a glass of sparkling water?”
She cocks her head to the side, then nods.
He grins,subtle of course, but she’s noticed that he is more expressive than many of the Auto are made out to be.

» Posted By mae On 09.05.2013 @ 6:12 pm


“So tell me, is the spy act supposed to intrigue me, or do I need to keep walking?”
“What do you mean? Spy act?”
“Well yeah, what with you hiding in the shadows and stuff.”
“I’m not hiding, and you shouldn’t have even seen me.”
“Are you a cop? Like undercover or something? If you are, you have to tell me, its the law.”
“No, I’m not a cop and I never was.”
“Then what are you?”
“Dead. I’ll fade in the sunlight, and I’m not ready to go.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Well, damn. You weren’t.”

» Posted By mae On 09.04.2013 @ 8:23 pm


He is so very hungry. It is all he knows, and It is all he will ever know. The king decrees this, and he must obey the king.
“I don’t understand why you do this. If you would just allow us to cure you, you would be able to go free.”
The woman in white never understands. That is because she has never felt this hunger. She doesn’t understand the feeling of a thousand miniature suns inside his head.She has never heard the heartbeats of an entire city.
“Doctor King, you are needed in Room 104. Room 104, Dr. King.”
The king is coming, and he must make ready. it would be unseemly to be impolite to the king.
“He does this every time! He freaks out, and when we call the doc, or we try to sedate him, he straightens out. Never misbehaves when she’s around.”
The servants do not like him. They think it odd, that he is perfect, for the king. It is not so odd, he thinks, it is proper behavior.

“Good afternoon, Nicas. How are you today?”
“Fine, Dr. King. A bit hungry, but fine.”
“The nurses told me that you were acting up earlier today. Is that true?”
“…yes, Dr. King.”

“Good morning, Nicas. Have you had breakfast yet?”
“They brought it to me.”
“Did you eat it?”
“I can’t eat your food, Dr. King. It makes me sick.”
“Nicas, if you keep this up, We’ll have to put you back on a drip.”
“I’ll see you later, Nicas.”

“Hello, I am Dr. Amy King. You probably know my work with Patient Green.”
A med student in the second row raises his hand.
“The guy who thinks he’s a vampire?”
“Yes and no. I hesitate to refer to Patient Green’s condition that way. In part, because he does not feel the need to drink blood like so many of our other ‘Vampiric’ patients claim. But on the other hand, the patient has developed a sense of clannishness, I suppose you could say. He’s loyal to his original care team. Something bizarrely different from other Vee patients.”
“But Dr. King, wouldn’t that make him, truly Vampiric? All of the other Vee patients you’ve documented were frauds.” another student, a young woman this time, speaks up.
“That my fellows, is part of the reason I am here today. Patient Green, has a track record, He is the most well behaved patient in the book. He causes no harm to himself, nor to any of the staff. Due to the budgeting problems, our study is being cut. We made any new progress in his condition, so he is being released from the center today. Students, Colleagues, I’d like you all to meet, Mister Nicas Greene.”
He is standing at the door, just like the king had asked him to, waiting for his cue.
The king, speaks, and she looks at him. So he steps forward into the room.

» Posted By mae On 09.03.2013 @ 11:28 am


historic, historical, history. Tell me my friend, what ever will you do, to go down in the books? And what will you do to create a mark, a piece to add to the whole, What part of the intricate puzzle will be yours? We all want to be part of history. What will you do to make sure you get there? Many will do many things, for no other reason to prove a point. But what if we did the things we do, to leave a pretty piece on the chalkboard of history? What if our words were remembered, What if our art had meaning to someone other that ourselves, what if our ideas, our thoughts, ourselves, went down in history? Stayed in the books, for the next generation.
You don’t have to cure cancer, just…
Be every- wonderful, creative, amazing -thing you can be.

» Posted By mae On 09.02.2013 @ 3:39 pm


Out of broken
sea green glass bottles,
We find
Half mad messages,
thrown to sea,
By those all too desperate.

» Posted By mae On 08.29.2013 @ 8:07 pm


Strung up in the Hollow tree.
One rope, one for you or me.
What is one to expect, when
you keep company with the king of thieves.

» Posted By mae On 08.28.2013 @ 8:06 pm


Im not to sure, i think of -solid- something that can withstand force.
I think of- solitary- alone, by one’s self.
something that stands alone, solid, unmovable. a soldier with strong faith, perhaps.

» Posted By Mae On 08.19.2013 @ 9:29 pm


He stands and waits an etheral specter always present.
And while the ferryman has his duty, he is always aware, and We will ne’er fade from his sight. As he stands, at the river, beckoning.

» Posted By mae On 08.12.2013 @ 12:30 pm


I always used to think that one dot didn’t make a difference.
That the end of a sentence wasn’t defined by that little thing.
Because the end of a life isn’t defined by a dot either.

My grandma died last week.
Her grave doesn’t have a dot.
There she lies.
“Wife, mother, grandmother”
There’s no dot to finish that.
The end is inevitable.
The dot doesn’t define it.

» Posted By Mae On 07.26.2013 @ 3:20 am


He blamed her for everything.
Blamed her for their failed marriage and for the way his mother treated him.
Blamed her for the fact his boss implied that he wanted to fire him because he did not do a proper job at whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. But he worried too much.
He blamed her for his worry, for the mess in his head.
He blamed her for everything and nothing.
And one day she could not take the blame any longer, and he could blame himself for her early departure.

» Posted By Mae On 06.26.2013 @ 4:25 am


When I was little I used to love to walk on stilts. Around the school during breaks. Though I have always been tall it seemed not to matter when I was on stilts, because it was their fault I stuck out right there and then.
Without those stilts I was the freakishly tall girl, but when I walked them it was their fault. People looked up at me, but only then.
Because when I stuck out the regular way people still managed to find a way to look down on me.

» Posted By Mae On 06.24.2013 @ 7:30 am

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