ACROSTIC POETRY // Droid Avunculate

Uncle, tell me a bedtime story!
Promise me sleep right after that?

Bearded myths say there’s a purgatory
Right after death, right after begat.
Its goddamned inmates are forever doomed to
Never succeed in finding ease of breath,
Getting sick with chronic, emotional flu,
Insides torn ‘tween flame life and ice death.

No way, Iron Uncle, do they still have human pith!
Godspeed, Tiny Tin. People are just a silly ancient myth.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Oops!… We Did It Again (cease fire)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Eros & Psyche

Just a quarter of an inch across and I’d have been pulling up daisies. Eros is packing some serious heat these days, a fact to which the hole in my living room wall attests. I’m standing here with two fingers inserted, noting the rough edges. Not quite as smooth as one would expect, yet so typical of a god really. Always demanding more than they can give. Always getting more than they deserve. Well, not from me. I refuse to pay him any attention. I withdraw to the bathroom to wash the white residue off my hands.

My mind drifts back to when we were fledglings. All Eros had in those days was a dinky little slingshot from which to fire his pixie skulls. We’d fossick for their wingless remains at the foot of the royal mosaics at Latium, right there on the beach alongside the unsuspecting sunbathers who would soon become our targets. Eros would rattle off a round or two as I egged him on and then, grin faced, we’d retreat to the rock pools before they could track our trajectory.

He was a brat and I was a chit, and there was a time when I would have sworn that we were made for each other. Not any more though. Eros is a fucking anal fissure and I’m righteously pissed off. That tends to happen when your heart has been so carelessly stomped on. For someone who prides himself on being the ultimate matchmaking machine, Eros sure was sucky at keeping our own relationship off of life support.

That hole. It’s bigger than it has any right to be. What the hell is he using? More than pixie skulls, that’s for goddamn sure. By junior high, he’d graduated to a compound crossbow with customised arrows sporting a filigree, heart-shaped tip motif. Who knows what Eros has moved on to since then? A Gustav Gun perhaps? With nuke sized dildos? No. The hole is big, but not that big.

Whichever way I choose to look at it, it’s obvious he wants me back. Eros has always been one to big things up, to over compensate in his declarations of love. Ugh. I really want to hate the bastard. Some days, I even succeed.

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part B. Feabhra ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

Scylla Beach

∼ Part I ∼

It’s midday and there are anxious knocks at his front door.
He wonders if the neighbors’ friends got the wrong door.
Opening to see about the commotion,
Seems to only heighten his confusion.

Nothing is there. Nope.
Nothing is there.

At his back door he hears those knocks again.
He rushes through his home like a madman,
To open his back door hoping to see who’s knocking,
Again he sees nothing.

It’s like staring into a nebula of discombobulated shadows.
Back to his living room he goes, then finds a black unicorn, a purple owl, and two black crows.
Overwhelmed. The sight further rattles his compunction.
As they fuse together causing a huge static emersion.

His body wilts to the floor
And…

∼ Part II ∼

“I told you, Clothra, owls can’t look like a bush of lilac!
See? What will we do with this unconscious sack?!
We should bring him to Emain Macha until Beltane
And I’m not going to get it in the neck again!”

“Shut up, Sweeney! Give you a choice and you’ll paint black
Even a rainbow. It would be better if you stop to clack
Like a clocking hen and help me to bring him round…
Hey! You, twins! Hurry up! Are you too spellbound?!”

“Clothra, don’t go playing the big boss!
Sweeney is right… you make too much of gloss!
We’re not buffoons… We’re… Oh! Did he open his eyes?
Hush! Hush, guys! Turn on the fireflies!”

The air is filled with a subtle glow
And…

∼ Part III ∼

His eyes. The color. Vacillates between black & violet
In a haze, volcanic echoes vibrate. Commanding him to fight…
Fight! Fight! Fight! Finger snaps, claps, and slapping wings
Bellows him to awaken with voices like un-Earthly beings.

He hears voices commanding him to come forth to receive his messages
A feeling as if his body is being bent into a set of strange corsages
He hears another set of voices, “Oh! Did he open his eyes?
Hush! Hush, guys! Turn on the fireflies!”

His visage of things seems blurred but are truly clear.
His mind again perambulates confusion and fear
As a hybrid bird stands before him speaking strange things,
Talking a language known and unknown, then odd names.

He surveys the room, their faces, and concludes there is no hostility here.
Soon enough he loosens up, wonders about message, curiosity wins here.
Wings extended, inviting him to take a seat. He does.

Their beak opens
And…

∼ Part IV ∼

…in the far country, where springs are crystalline,
Where trees are vibrant and women hiss like a feline,
At the world’s end where all must be as was foretold,
She embroiders a shroud with pearls and gold.

A needle pricks,
A horologe ticks…

She whispers prayers mixed up with ribald couplets
About kings’ weaknesses and queens’ merits,
She sips thick gin, wiping her mouth on the sleeve.
Intricate patterns on white samite interweave.

Beltane is soon. She looks at the dark sky.
A lone star gleams like a tiny firefly.
Elatha… She bites through a gold thread
And limply drops her body into bed.

A horologe ticks,
A door latch clicks…
Hush, guys! No monkey tricks!
Please, let her sleep!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

 

P.S. Happy Birthday, Greg!

 

GUEST POST // In the Corner with Maftet in Bubastis by Jonathan Noble

Part I

What am I doing here in this drear room in Bubastis in doom of shadow corner, so many sadistic strange faces? And who’s the witch that paces back and forth like she’s the frackin’ dream queen?

“Yeah! That witch is the bitch of war, my dear,” voice at my shoulder, and I shuddered. “She’ll dance and prance, but blood lust is a must for Bast; she just likes to drown her victims in fine wine first before lunging for the kill.” Light laughter. “Yeah, it’s her thrill.”

And the cats; I like cats, but their purring was alluring. Slap! “Bitch! Wake up unless you wanna be her boy-toy! She’ll suck you dry and leave you to rot in graveyard lot! Stupid man! I knew you needed me here; your haven is craven fear, right? Right! No might, no sight, no fight… Pathetic! Come here… No! Near, my love. Why the hell do you have an ear if you can’t hear?”

“But who are you?”

“Maftet, wife of Ma’at, but why in God’s name do you want to know? Just shut the hell up and stand behind me, kind of like you’re scarred, because you are ~ like an infant ~ far from home.” Wide shoulders, strong as boulders, silken hair, back bare and luscious. “Look! Her next victim, so unaware! Listen to her dictum, and the man is so blind! Men have always been, and there’s the purr of her cat to allure! Gods! I’ll rip apart the cats and make hats of hell ere I tear into her and chime Shai’s death bell!”

Bast like feline and soothed among cast and crew of old tale spun, told anew, unheard by little bird, “ah! but his mistress sees now how he’s ready to bow! Good so far; maybe she’ll steal him for her own meal, if she’ll stop drinking Bastian wine so finely laced, not benignly … Is she stupid, too; so putrid! She still doesn’t see!”

“See what?” Trembling. Assembling courage, but so damn pitiful in mystical presence of pleasance of Maftet, my savage protectress so ready to ravage … who? One and all to maul? Maybe I should crawl…

“The stich, my love-dove, so weak and bleak! The stitch on the rich bitch-witch!”

“Where? I see no tear…”

“Ha! No wonder! You blunder through life anyway; yeah! you need to stay with me, even after this day! You’re too damn blind to find your way; that’s how you stumbled into the gloom of this room in the first place, and with no trace beyond Ma’at … and she ought to have pity on you!” I moved closer to her back for lack of strength. Laughter, demeaning but preening, too. “Look! The stich covers more than a niche! At the bottom of her neck.” More laughter, this time cruel with some bloody drool. “You should’ve seen her before, just after… Star-knife slice and I made her a wreck!”

The man moved closer. His mistress pricked, gave an unseen kick. Ah! But Bast and Maftet noticed ~ it was really obvious ~ but the man was oblivious. And then the woman began to weave as something began to leave with spirit heave… And cat’s eyes turned green, so serene … hypnotic, exotic, erotic. It wouldn’t be long now…

Instinctively I grabbed Maftet for fear… “It’s alright, my dear, just stay near… We’ve played this play many times before, and it’ll not be you who hits the floor!”

 

Part II

“Step back into black.” Of course I didn’t understand, but waited for no reprimand. “So sad Sia’s not here for you, too, for sheer knowing’s sake to make you wise enough to devise your own escape.” Maftet turned and burned into my eyes. “I see the hole in your soul, and you’ve no idea what’s happening now and how the cow’s readied for slaughter to the daughter of war… Ah! And the claws on more than paws; you don’t see that either, do you?”

“No.” What blow to what ego left; most of it bereft now. Hell! I still didn’t know exactly where I was, and wanted to tear out my hair, and there was no escape, only the misshape of fanciful ideas of…

“Wake up, stupid pup! And take your place where I told you to hide!” She turned on me wild with mild smile, like mother to child and I was beguiled. Laughter. Shake of the head in pity in city so glum, filled with scum. “You’re too easy, ignorant, but not sleazy… I think I’ll end up buckling you to my belt like a whelp to help keep you safe from the strafe of Bast, my little waif. And you would like that, too, wouldn’t you?”

Beautiful. Vicious. Even malicious. Could I help but love her, especially under such fierce cover?

“You’re caught, my love-dove! You’re no good at hiding your thoughts!” Laughter again in kinder tone with knowing shake of the head. “Instead, just be honest; don’t try to lie, or you’ll die. I’m the companion-defender of Ma’at, who sought my skill to kill all untrue and those who skew… But look now! The slick black cat licks and pricks the incarnation of Bast, not to be lost, for revelation of blood, elevation of fixation on oozing red! It’s an exhortation to exploitation of unsuspecting fool, thickheaded mule; perhaps she should consume? He’d only resume his stupid ways in more dull days in disgusting brain-haze!”

Let him die? And not even try…

“Dammit, I told you already! Are you so unsteady in your own mind and so blind? I can hear you, dear!” Fierce look; soul pierce. I wanted to cower under her tower. “Shut up, now, and look! This is how she moves and proves her prowess, what behooves you to comprehend ere you bend to her feline ways on cloudier days in maze of confusion and dark illusion. I’ll not always be with you to correct, protect, and deflect all danger from the ranger of hell.”

Maftet grabbed and held me, nabbed my neck to beckon me listen, looking at glisten-face. “If I were to lie, my lies you’d believe just looking in my eyes, and you could not even try to resist what I insist… but why? You know so little, your spirit so brittle, but I’ll not belittle; after all, only last Spring did you sing your first babe’s song and sigh so nigh strong breast, sweet milk to drink to sink to peaceful sleep in protected keep. How, then, could you know, could you really see here what there is to see and the degree of malice from ages foregone, hidden behind devilish curtains drawn?”

“What don’t I see here in this place so drear? There is Bast; there is man; there is cat. There is dæmon cast, evil plan, and ghoulish feline rat! What more to even the score of what I know as I forego this awful trek bedecked in thin veneer under sneer of deities old and ere so cold?”

Kiss. Shockingly gentle. Smile … kind. “I am not blind but you I will bind to me to be mine at least till we leave the awful beast and grime-ridden place in Bubastis, however slow the pace. But look again and see; remember I said the claws are on more than paws? The two are one, and one is two; it’s true. Aton summoned Sekhmet and Bastet ~ her full name ~ in blame of war and violence, to deplore the double-whore of mindless defiance of peace, commanding all battles to cease; so they converged and merged, struck their blow upon Aton to show the power of unabated hate, and crash the tower and smash every bower of Ennead, but the champion of the pantheon was Ma’at, and she chose me as mate to satiate the anger of Aton and remove all danger of dæmons so loud and proud, who drain stupid men who cant think above notch of the crotch! Do you now more understand, your soul expand to see how out-of-hand is this deific grandstand of wretched whore-war band?”

Ah! But Bast moved again … surreptitiously, expeditiously, suspiciously, but oh-so obviously ambitiously. Ready for the thrill of the kill?

 

by JONATHAN NOBLE
© All rights reserved 2015