Friday, June 25, 2010

My World

My World
By
R. W. Hampton

Mystical wonders fill the page,
Margin to margin.
Alternate universes,
Mythical creatures,
Ancient heroes.
Anything is possible here
After all. . .
You’re entering into my world now.

Quill and pen,
Then back again,
To the typewriter.
Completed books,
Leather bound.
Characters reach out,
Stimulate your soul,
Make it laugh, make it cry.

Turn the pages and watch the story come to life.
Words surge across the paper,
Painting pictures in your mind.

Let my words reach you in your shell,
Let them break your heart and make you weep,
Let them make you laugh so hard you can’t breathe.

I shall weave you a world of magic and mystery.
Overflowing with creatures and adventures;
Come into my world. . .
But don’t forget to knock.

Books

Books
By
R.W. Hampton

Nose buried,
Deep in the pages.
Lost,
In the ocean of words.
Tangled in the story,
Immersed in its images.
Eyes skitter across the pages,
Devouring the words,
One by one,
Trying to quench an insatiable hunger.

Fall in love,
With the characters.
Watch them grow,
And learn.
Share,
In their happiness and tears.
Be torn apart,
By one of their deaths.
Be mirthful,
When they triumph.

Find amour,
In each novel.
Be enamored by each volume.
With each tale told,
Tumble deeper and deeper,
Into each new book.
Smile,
And have joy,
When you acquire a new addition,
To your collection of worlds.


Page after page,
Chronicles unfold,
Before your very eyes.
Delve into the world,
Of the author,
See the pictures,
Painted by their script.
Find who you fancy most,
Amongst the authors.
Find yourself smitten with the scribes.

Hold each tome,
Tightly in your hands,
As the treasures they are.
Each novel,
Lovingly written,
Each character,
Born carefully,
And purpose filled,
Each title,
Thoughtfully conceived in a gorgeous wordy mind.

Open the Door

Open the Door
By R. W. Hampton

“Open the door Marcus.”

The voice called from behind the locked door. The young boy stared up at it from his place upon the stoop. He’d been hiding here for a year now, ever since the first day he’d heard her voice calling out. He could distinctly remember the first words she had said to him “Is someone out there?”

At first their interaction had been limited to the times he hid from the bullies constantly on his tail. He’d been frightened of her, he remembered all the stories the villagers told for as long as he could remember. They’d all warned him never to go near this house. . .but it had become his only sanctuary.

The woman locked inside was some foul creature according to the legends, one who ate the flesh of humans while they still drew breath, and sometimes even the flesh of the dead. She was said to be able to survive years without eating, and did not age the same as humanity did. The tales tell of the horrors she used to perform without the slightest bit of remorse.

His people one day captured her after discovering her ways. And so, the villagers built a one room house, with no windows and only one door in and out; and chained her to the back wall. They left her to rot, for so long, that she’d forgotten her own name, and long given up the thought of making her escape. He gave her a name when he discovered the tragedy; everyone needed a name, especially her. His dearest friend.

But, after speaking to her, he couldn’t possibly believe those lies. She was the only one who listened to him, who cared what he said, who wanted to help him. All their conversations started off the same though; with the request to be released from her prison.

So he responded the same way each time, “I can’t Sophia, you know I can’t.”

There would come a tense silence for a moment before she would ask what the weather that day was like, what he’d done that day, whether he was feeling well, how his day went, and what news there was from the world.

And he would tell her, because he was all she had, her only connection to the outside world. No matter how long he put it off he would eventually tell her of how he had been beaten that day, and her scarred, nail-less fingers would come out from under the door for him to hold, and she would offer words of comfort and affection.

In the beginning he’d asked about her past, but she couldn’t remember that either, only that she’d been placed in that room because she was
bad and that she was always hungry. He’d tried bringing her food to eat, but she couldn’t eat it.

It made his heart hurt that he could not help her, could not free her. He’d thought of doing it many times. The promises she’d made at first when he came lingered in his mind every day. And he knew she would make good on them, he felt it in his very being that she would. He knew it as only a matter of time before he gave in and broke the rusty locks kept her imprisoned.

Those exact thoughts were churning in his mind as he stared at the black eye adorning his face in the mirror. Marcus sniffled slightly as he made his way through his empty little house. It had been empty for years now and he had become used to the uncomfortable quiet. He stopped and stared at his pack that held all of his belongings for a long moment before moving on to the hammer that rested against the wall.

With determination lighting his eyes he picked it up, took a deep breath, placed it in his pack, slung it over his shoulder and went on his way to see Sophia. He took the back roads so as not to garner the attention of his people. He smiled as he thought of what she would say when he told her about setting her free.

His smile had grown to a full blown beaming grin as he ascended the first of the steps to her door. “Sophia!” he called exuberantly breaking their greeting tradition in his jubilation.

“Marcus?”

“Phia! I need to ask you something. Do you remember the promises you made me should I free you from your prison?”

It was quiet for a moment as the captive digested his words. “Yessssss, I do remember them Marcus, every single one.”

The young boys’ eyes sparkled with mirth as he climbed another couple steps. “I wanna hear them again. . .please?” he tacked on bashfully.

In the darkness of the doom the woman smiled affectionately; her boy was so precious. “Of course I can my dear darling. Anything for you.

“I promise to protect you, to cherish you, to care for you, to support you, to respect you, to treat you well, to never raise my hand to you, to never yell at you, to hold you, to never allow harm to come to you, to always stand by your side, to fight for you, to seek vengeance on those who would dare to harm you, but most importantly. . .I promise to love you.

“This I swear to you, on my very life do I make this vow. . .my dear darling child.”

At the end of her pledge a mottled hand came from under the door, reaching for her child in assurance of her sincerity. With warm cheeks and an affectionate smile the boy placed his hand in hers.

“Sophia oh, Sophia. . .I’m going to get you outta there today, that is my promise to you. I’ll break these locks and chains that bind you. Phia, let’s leave this place.”

With that Marcus took the hammer from his pack, rose it over his head, and brought it crashing down on the heavy lock that kept the door closed. After several more tries the rusted piece of metal fell to the floor.

A victorious smile spread over his face as he laughed delightedly. “Phia I did it!”

Her soft chuckles permeated the now useless door as she replied, “I knew you could do it Marcus, I have always had faith in you.”

He practically glowed at her soft praises, and reached for the key that hung by the door, made for the wretched chain and collar Sophia had described she was enforced to wear. With a deep breath he threw open the door to see the most heart wrenching scene he would see in all his life that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

Sophia, the person he admired and adored sat in front of the door squinting at the shock of light after so many years. The room was concrete and had absolutely nothing in it; there were gouges in the wall where she had tried to dig her way out years before; the marks of blood where he knew she’d banged her head on the wall in frustration; and the chain hanging from one of the walls that led to his dear friend.

A sob escaped his throat as tears threatened to fall without his consent as he caught sight of his companion. She was horrendously malnourished, just skin over bones; her eyes were more deep set than they were supposed to be and they had deep bags under them; there was a small sliver missing from her lower lip, and there were tiny dot like scars surrounding her mouth where he knew there had once been thread keeping them shut; her hands were missing their nails, and covered in half moon scars from where she’d bitten them raw and they had healed; around her neck her skin was covered in scabs from where the collar had rubbed off layers of skin; her hair was missing in places where she’d pulled it out; her skin was deathly pale from being deprived of sunlight; and arms, legs, and torso were covered in scratch scars that she’d inflicted in the early years of her incarceration.

As he cried Sophia rose to her knees and pulled the boy to her with the utmost gentleness. “Oh, my sweet boy do not shed tears for me! I am free now, we can go wherever we want, and start a new life!”

He sniffled and whipped the tears from his eyes as he moved to unlock the miserable collar from her. He whimpered slightly as he said, “Phia, I’m sorry it took me so long to let you out.”

She smiled and whipped the tears from his face. Her eyes narrowed as she caught of his blackened eye. “Oh, Marcus. . .”

“S-Sophia. . .we’re gonna leave right? Go away from this hurtful place?”

She smiled maternally as he looked up at her through his shaggy hair. “Of course we are going to leave here child. . .But first I need to eat.

The boy nodded understandingly as they walked out the door together. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye as she carefully said, “Marcus. . .you know what I eat do you not?” At his nod she continued, “Then I want you to wait here while I dine. I do not wish you to see me in such a state. Please stay here while I feast, I will bring about your vengeance on those who have wronged you as well. . .just wait for me here my dear darling. ”

He smiled as he threw his arms around her boney shoulders and said, “Of course I’ll wait for you Phia! I’ll sit right here!”

He plopped down on the stoop and pulled a book from his pack as the woman smiled at him, descended the steps, and started for the village.

Marcus hummed nursery rhymes to himself quietly as he awaited her return, diligently ignoring the screams emanating from the village. The only thought that passed through his mind during the massacre was, I think we should go to Paris first. Phia would like to see the plays I think.

A few moments later he looked up as he heard her approach and smiled brightly. Sophia looked far better than she had when he opened door. She was no longer skin and bones, her skin wasn’t so sickly looking, the bags under her eyes had receded, her wounds were on the mend, and even her hair had grown back in places. And around her waist was a belt fashioned of tightly braided hair, trailing behind her slightly as she walked.

He laughed joyously as he ran to her, his pack slung over his shoulders and sprung in to her arms. The woman joined in his mirthful laughed and spun him about with her new found strength. She held him close as she asked, “Where shall we go first my son?”

His eyes sparkled blissfully as his head shot up to stare at her. A loving smile spread across his face as he said, “Let’s go to Paris momma, they’re supposed to have these really great plays there. I want to see them with you.”

She petted his soft hair as she set him back on the ground, took up his hand and began walking. “Paris it is then.”

FINN

Final Thirteen Seconds

Final Thirteen Seconds
By R. W. Hampton

The young man’s heart raced as the guards walked him up the platform. Slowly he ascended the stairs, the chains between his feet jangling.

He stared forlornly at the crowd gathered to watch his death as his jailors opened the head block and shoved him into it, slamming and locking the wooden restraint.

His heart hammered in his chest as the priest and executioner approached. He took a deep steadying breath as the holy man read him his last rights.

The black hooded man stepped forward, the taut rope held tightly in his hands as he taunted cruelly, “Told you, you’d wind up here.”

The man of the cloth stepped back after he finished with, “May God have mercy on your soul.”

The gallows master announced his crime and punishment to the masses, “This young man has committed the crime of murder! The murder of his own master!” At this the crowd booed harshly, “A crime punishable by death!” A cheer rose from the people.

The young killer scowled at them. The wretched people didn’t even care why he did it! He let out an angry huff as his death turned to him and released the rope.

It was quick, and hardly hurt at all for which he was thankful.

A quiet came over the gathering as they stared at the headless body. But, before they could start cheering they heard something. . .a song emanating from the guillotine’s basket.

“Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are week but he is strong. . .”

FINN

The Truth About Socks

The Truth About Socks
By R. W. Hampton

Have you ever wondered, where your one sock that disappears goes? Have you ever asked yourself, how it vanished in the short time it was in the dryer? They don’t say good bye, not even a by-your-leave, or a note! They just. . .go.

Well, you are about to discover the truth of what really happens to that one. Missing. Sock.

The mass of clothes tumbled chaotically in the round and round motion of the churning dryer. Shirts, pants, undergarments, sock, and the odd sweat band or two spun about quickly in the warm machine slowly but thoroughly working out the retained water.

Suddenly, there came a slight. . .banging from the back of the dryer. Carefully, oh so carefully, the back was opened by small green hands. Large yellow eyes peered in the crack at the spinning garments systematically categorizing each of them by, brand, type, make, color, fiber count, condition, and size.

Smiling devilishly the little creature reached in and began grabbing socks with a pell-mell rhythm. After grabbing all his greedy hands could touch he stepped back to watch the tumbling clothes a moment longer to assure himself he’d left only one sock of each set. Seeing that he’d missed one of those rainbow-stripped-toed socks, he quickly reached forward to nab it before he lost the chance until the next sacrifice to the Great Spinning Altar.

Grinning victoriously the goblin of the Realm Behind the Drying Machine stuffed all of his swag into the bag he’d brought with him, turned around and pranced back to the goblin capital, Zaretha. Tonight he and his people would feast upon the bounty he was to bring home. Surely the Sock Stew made by the Great Stew Maiden of the Realm would be most delicious!

He couldn't wait until next time when he could acquire more delicacies for he and his people to consume. He licked his lips at the very thought, of what the Bringers of the Socks would give to them as a new offering

END

Written Worlds

Written World

by

R. W. Hampton



Fanciful fantasies,

Spectacular fictitious sciences.

Thrilling mystical worlds,

Space travel to infinite wolds.



Myth and magic,

Warp cores and incredible technology.

Chaotic creatures,

Advanced aliens.



My worlds of words,

Bring all of these to life.

Imagined universes fly across the pages,

Starships warp through galaxies.



Open my tomes,

And fall into these places of wonder.

Join me,

As I weave words into worlds.

Star Trek: TOS Drabbles

Kirk test drabble:

She’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning. She’s all curves and angles. James T. Kirk smiled to himself as he stared at her across the space dock. He’d never seen a woman like her in all his year or on any planet he’d been to. She was all the woman he would ever need again.

And she was all his. His girl. His smile widened; he couldn’t be happier. She was his ship now. He placed his hand on the transparent aluminum, longingly looking at her. Only one more day, and he’d be on her bridge making orders and decisions.

Kirk let out a wistful sigh as he took a step back from the window. If he stayed here too long he wouldn’t be able to leave her; not that he ever would now that he had her. He gave her one last smile as he turned and started on his way to the mess hall for dinner with Bones, softly whispering her name in farewell, “U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701,”

Spock test drabble:

His eyes scanned the words as they scrolled down the screen. The man’s file was filled with commendations, reprimands, and numerous medical notes; namely listing his sizable amount of allergies. Spock leaned forward in his seat and narrowed his eyes. It was all very illogical to him.

James Tiberius Kirk, seemed an illogical decision for captaincy to him. He was reckless, insubordinate, and younger than any captain in Starfleet history. With humans, he had learned, age generally spoke volumes about the knowledge and logic one of their species could convey.

Spock leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers; contemplating. He would have to keep his eyes on this man. He had already made significant decisions pertaining to crewmembers and hadn’t even set foot aboard the ship. He would need to get to know his new captain to see if he would need to fix the man’s mistakes.

McCoy test drabble:

A scowl set firmly in place as Dr. Leonard McCoy looked around his room at his packed bags. Letting out a deep sigh he fell into his chair and rubbed his hands over his tired face. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. Assignment to the ‘Fleet’s flagship that would always be flying around in this horrible empty vacuum, having to repair whatever maladies it’s crew could contract. The things I let Jim talk me into.

He stared at the closest port hole that served as a window and groaned. He could have said no, he knows he could have. But his conscience would never allow for it. He couldn’t let his best friend go flying off into space without a doctor who knows all of his allergies off the top of his head. And of course the ship Jim was in command of had the most diversity in species, and he was the only doctor who knew how to fix them if and when they got injured.