Tranquility Base

on tranquility base
sans oxygen
makes sense?

It’s week two up here on the moon. Just jotting down poems that come into my head, to pass the time. Crew’s dead. I’m the only one left. I like to think there are a few people left down on Earth, too, fighting zombies in some crazy zombie apocalypse people saw coming. But that’s likely not the case. They’re all dead as well. Silly bastards we humans are, we blew everything up.

I may be the only human left in existence. An extremely endangered species. Time for the next generation of aliens to take over. Dig up our artifacts and wonder what the hell happened to us.

sense makes
sans taking breath
base tranquility
on rise

#SoCS – Bridge, a Hallowe’en Story

Taking the Bridge to the inner city is like driving out of fresh air, into the pits of Hell. The Bridge itself is lined on both sides with grills, jails if you will. At the outer edge, near the freshest of air, are the criminals who live, still. But as it gets warmer toward the middle of the Bridge, one can see the prisoners are fighting for air. Zombies, treading upon one another with clubs made of loose bits of the Bridge torn off are closest to the inner city.

Why must we travel there, to the city? For work. The luckiest of us still grow our vegetables at the far end of the Bridge. For meat, we must go to the city. That’s where the brains are.


This post was written entirely in Stream of Consciousness, and left unedited. If you, too, would like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, click the following link to add your post!


Jack reined his horse to a stop at the border and looked past the barbed-wire fence at the grassy plain beyond. The zombies were miles back. Though they staggered haltingly at the best of times, Jack knew they could cover a lot of ground in little time. He’d seen the movies. Didn’t matter how fast the hero ran…

But thinking negatively like that was heading down a dead-end road. Much like the dead-end road he was on now. There was no way the horse would make it through the yards of prickly metal he faced. Jack looked right and left – there wasn’t a border crossing guard to be seen.

He walked a few feet to his left and looked down. Just as he thought. Zombie poo. They’ve been here already, Jack mumbled to himself.


Jack’s horse snorted.

“Not you, Trigger,” he assured his mighty steed.

He was loathe to leave the beast to its own devices and make a break for it himself. Especially when he knew the zombies didn’t enjoy horse brains very much. The ungrateful monsters.

Jack took one more look left and right and mounted his horse.

“Let’s keep going, Trigger. Surely we’ll find a house somewhere with wire cutters. Even if we have to double back a bit.”

Trigger neighed.

“I know, old buddy. I know,” said Jack.

Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. Feedback is welcome.

#SoCS – Amber and Ash

I sit at the traffic light and watch the amber bulb blink on and off. My car is almost out of gas and I wonder how much longer the electricity will stay running. But does it matter? The slain lay behind me, their brains eaten. Now that I’ve finished off the last of the zombies, I have nothing left to eat. Nothing but ash. And zombie brains.


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