Well hello there old friends,
First of all, let me apologize. This last year has been grim and dark. So I haven’t written Penumbra. That had a kind of hope that I don’t have anymore. Perhaps I just don’t feel that way about heroes anymore. Maybe I do.
In any case I have taken to writing something different. Something quite different. What you might ask? (Assuming this missive finds anyone) I’m calling them Truly Terrible Tales. What are they? Well they have an aspect of horror to them. Some are up and up horror. Some are love stories. Some are… well just me playing with words.
In any case, I hope you enjoy these. I really do. A light in the darkness from a man a long way from home.
The Poet Player,
Mr. TKH Hamilton
Penumbra Nightmare: Episode 6
Part 2 of 3
“Clark? Agent Shepherd?” Mark’s voice echoed around the mess hall. She turned and her breath released slowly. “I wasn’ interruptin’ anythin’ right?”
“Negative.” Clark replied with a gentle smile. Mark stepped up to the table and slowly sat down. He was still wearing his long coat and hat as he lowered himself to the bench. His face contorted in visible struggle as he did so. “You appear to be in near agony Mark.”
“I bit off more ‘an I coul’ chew wit’ the trainin'” Mark muttered. He shrugged his shoulders before smiling at Julia. “So uh I guess Cindy tol’ y’all ’bout Friday.”
Before Julia could answer the lights flickered and went out. Julia’s blaster was in her hand in a flash. With a gentle hum the yellow blade of light appeared in the corner of her eye. Mark flipped the collar of his coat up and had his hands gripped tight around his lightsword. The sound of heavy boots came down the hallway. They echoed in the room and bounced off every surface.
“Agent Shepherd. What an honor to finally meet you.” A deep baritone voice came down one hall. The black cap and red mantle came around the corner. One eye slowly scanned the room until it found the three agents. In the lightsword’s glow, the eyepatch and golden skulls glistened cruelly as the invader sauntered into the mess hall. Four men in black armor with assault rifles marched in behind him. One hand reached just beneath the mantle and slowly drew a saber of cold black metal from it. “I am Baron Von Todersfurcht and I am here to kill you.”
I wish to apologize for the lack of consistency with my blog. I haven’t managed to stick to my promised schedule recently. I apologize for that. I pride myself on my commitment to this blog and my readers.
This blog isn’t a place for me to whine about my troubles. It will suffice to say that I am going through a difficult season in my family and personal life. Change is sometimes painful and I wouldn’t want it to corrupt what I produce. So, since I wish to continue to produce high quality work, I am taking some time off. My blog should resume on the normal schedule next week.
Thank you for all your understanding. I am grateful for every like and reblog. It means a lot that people enjoy my work.
Soli Deus Gloria,
I wished to inform you of certain matters which I believed pertinent. I do want to thank each and every person who views or subscribers to my blog, this has become one of the greatest sources of joy in this chapter of my life.
First: An apology: I apologize for my inconsistency. Part of that is I am out of town so my schedule has been disrupted. The larger part though is a different story, I have been writing a little less poetry and much more Penumbra. As such Monday, Wednesday, and Friday have been much older writing of mine.
Second: An encouragement: please express your opinions. I am definitely a novice writer. I hope, as I’m sure you do as well, that with practice I can become a better writer. I would however, love to hear what you, my readers, think. So if you have anything constructive and honest, I would certainly encourage you to post it.
Finally: a disclaimer. I do this with an extremely heavy heart. I have in the past endorsed certain peers and friends of mine. I have said I enjoyed their blogs and said that I believed, perhaps too hastily, that you might enjoy them as well. As I have read some more I feel I must state that I’m not necessarily in agreement with what is said on these blogs. The themes, ideas, opinions, and views expressed are those of the authors’ and not necessarily mine. As such I hope you continue to enjoy this blog and any others you care to read.
I apologize for any of this being necessary. I greatly value you, my wonderful readers, and I hope you continue to enjoy what I write. May God Bless you.
Soli Deus Gloria,
Friends, Fellows, and Readers,
I do suppose I must clarify something. If not for your sake, then at least for my own. I do not necessarily post in the order I write things. I enjoy having a stockpile of stories and poems to pull from. Thus a poem you see today may have been written after a poem you see later.
I understand you probably do not care. This was more so to explain any strange swings in the mood my poems portray. I want to take this opportunity to thank all my stupendously splendid subscribers. I greatly appreciate the validation of my work that you gift to me.
Thanks for reading,
The Poet Player,
I wrote my own version of this title. If you or your wonderful readers wish to see it, it is on my own site.
Please, the Poet Player don’t plagiarize!
This piece was originally supposed to be written mimicking the style of my peer and friend miss c.j. miller. Then I realized that I am neither that skilled as to examine nor so patient as to replicate her work. So, here’s my take on a title you might expect over at neverl00kingback.wordpress.com, a site which I enjoy. If you like heart ache and break, go check her out.
Nothing is the same as it once was. I’m not the same free wandering man looking for fun and adventure. I’m the innocent inmate soon slated for execution by graduation from this life of high school. I’m not the same man a horse. I was a knight looking to win a princess. Now I’m a cowboy riding off into the sunset straight on down to Texas. It’s all so different.
She ain’t like you. Her fingers aren’t like yours. They aren’t the musician’s fingers that wove in between mine. They are the fingers of an athlete, ready to catch and snag and pull at me. Her lips aren’t like yours, those brass player lips that I miss. The lips that kissed me like I was a concerto or an étude. Her lips are more eager. I can tell cause she licks them in front of me, like she’s hungry for a kiss. Her voice isn’t like yours. That sing song seduction serenading me to sink deeper down in love. Her voice is excitedly enthusiastic to enunciate the things that matter to her. Her eyes don’t have the twinkle that yours do. They don’t have the instinctive inquisitiveness that yours did. Hers heap heart break back onto me as we talk things that won’t work with us. You won’t hear cause it’s too hard to listen. She can’t listen because it’s too hard to hear.
So I’m just a poet, pouring poignantly pointed poems and prayers to men and makers alike. If you want to hear heart break bemoaned then I’m here harping my worried wares. Yet, you might make your wayward way over to a peer of this pained poet player, and go see my mate miss c.j. miller.
By TKH Hamilton