The Deer -1 Constructive Comments Welcome Cassis stood completely still, his heartbeat excellently controlled. The only way you could tell he was still breathing was from the hot air leaving his mouth, forcing it's way in to the cold night and turning a cloudy white as it was illuminated against the glowing moonlight. He glanced at Molit and slowly raised a finger to his lips. Molit was a good four years younger than Cassis, a brother that had not yet shown his worth. This was to be his test, 'a perfect opportunity' but one Cassis would not want him to fail. It couldn't fail, this was a test, but this was also food. The boys were crouched behind a mound of drifted snow just amongst the last group of trees at the edge of the furthest forest. Across a small meltwater river was a deer. A strong, elegant and experienced deer. It was fully aware of all sound around it, it's ears twitching at the slightest breeze against the trees, its head rising and turning as a clump of snow broke free from a tree and fell to the ground with a dull thump. Beyond the deer was nothing, only snow, wind, silence and the star speckled sky. The boys had been clever so far, they had stalked the deer to this point. They had kept low, kept downwind and somehow managed to keep up with the beast this far, further than before. This however, was as far as they managed to get. To leave the trees in to the open, to make a sound,would be to lose the game. They had waited here for too long already, if it wasn't for the bright moonlight they would have turned back long ago. Molit gently raised his bow. Cassis, with the understanding that it was his younger brothers time, raised his as though as a mentor, as though he was encouraging, but it was obvious .... it was for insurance. The boys waited, there were no wind or obstacles but, the distance was to great. No accurate shot could be made, no movement closer. It was a risk. A gamble. Molit's fingers tightened on the string. Slowly he applied pressure, pulling back the bowstring. Fingers gripping the shaft of the arrow as he pulled. Slowly the cord tightened. The bow flexed and Molit's hand was soon bushing his cheek, the bowstring pressing against his chin. He held. He watched his prey. Lined up the pile. He saw the head of the deer turn, it's eyes shining as they caught the light of the moon. Then in a second he took a breath. Held it. Released!

Opus To Opuss Opuss is new to me, I believe it sets me free. You can write with love, You can write with hate. You can write to explain what you thought of a date. I can create, type and jot, Wether I believe it's read or not. It's like a drink, It hits the spot, It's my new found friends, It's what I've got. One day a story, One day a rhyme, One day a sentence when short of time. One day I might describe what's seen above, One day the feathers of a pure white dove. You can read people's lives, Like an open book, You can read the a description, of a ghostly look, You can read right to the end of a #poem that might have took, an hour to write, or a week to cook. I enjoy writing and tapping away myself, But have no delusions of my work ever on a shelf.

On The Bus A splatter of fire ripped through the torn curtains. The windows had long been smashed and shattered by the rumble of shells and the splattering of shrapnel. As I sat, knees to my chin, knife in my right hand around my legs, other hand holding my hat to my head, I began to drift in and out of sleep. My eyes felt out of control, closing without me noticing, an enormous amount of strength was needed to keep them even an inch open. I began to think about how it had got like this, how #life had spiraled out of control so rapidly. The truth is, the one I believe anyway, was that no one really knew how it had all started. No one knew who threw the first stone, who pushed the first person, fired the first shot or signed the first order. It had been about 5 months that's all I knew for sure. Some said it was the economy, others blamed disfunctional youth. Whatever it was, it had started fast and it had descended faster. At first the news portrayed what was happening to be obviously one sided; a small group of confused, anarchic youths who were hell bent on destroying all that was good. Doctors, psychologists, sociologists, teachers, politicians all tried to explain the situation. However within days the situation had got worse. The police had moved from riot shields to water cannons and were by the third day resorting to charging as gas and the cries of pain from the rubber bullets filled the broadcasts. The Internet became filled with a hive of activity, like bees with pollen people began bringing videos to the masses, their video pollen creating a sweet honey of discontent. Soon after the first week you would be lying if you said you knew who to believe, so many conflicting reports and changing viewpoints had left people confused. This confusion along with no foreseeable end caused panic. This panic was what caused the real damage- a fight for survival. One which soon became lawless, fearless, endless chaos. Jobs no longer mattered and the basic instincts of protecting and providing had overshadowed all else. ........my stop.., maybe refine and continue another time!

Morning Morning to you, A brush and a wee. Morning to you, Some toast and some tea. Morning to you, A book for an hour. Morning to you, I'll jump in the shower. Morning to you, Lock the front door. Morning to you, The man that said.......... "good afternoon!"? It's morning no more!

Secrets Are Everywhere "Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most likely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find out" Roald Dahl If you keep looking hard enough, you just might something new and magical that has never been seen before.