Rain The night dawned dark and cold Covered the world in unexpected certainties It shouldn't be raining at the end of the world Not hot fiery death, choking ash from the sky We were all bright with shining hope once Our lives a rainbow of obsessive possibilities Then darkness threatened our illusions But we couldn't see the gaps in between The spaces that were eternally getting deeper Take the expectations from my mind They burn too bright scorching my dreams Take away the inertia of corse indecisiveness For who am I to challenge the sunlight? I see the#moonslither over the hills Harvest bright, tied to its partner But tied it may be , it owns the tide Entrapped by emptiness across eternity Unroll it perishes in blazing shadow We're blinded by light as we descend into darkness

This Morning I woke up with head pounding and mouth dry. My legs and neck ached and complained loudly about being cramped up all night. I rubbed them vigorously and stretched them out trying to alleviate the pain. I could catalogue many different discomforts that currently plagued me ranging from minor niggles to the urgent throbbing of my skull, reminiscent of a hoard of dwarven miners in sturdy hobnail boots hacking at my dehydrated brain. My body felt unpleasantly aware and every twitter from the nest of sparrow chicks outside my window felt like hell itself being torn asunder sending waves of nausea through my stomach and intestine. My eyes were gritty and hot as if they had been born into with some kind of sand laser that made them nocturnal and unable to stand the light. Something had almost certainly curled up and died in my mouth and I slowly became aware that that horrific stench was coming from me. Time for an urgent shower then, that might make me feel better. I shambled to my feet, the movement making my head contract and my stomach lurch. Fumbling along I staggered to the shower room and thrust on the power. I striped off my soiled clothes and tried to recall any information from the black hole of last night. Steam started hovering around the base of the shower and knowing it was ready I plunged myself briskly in and dreamt about coffee.

Who Has Ownership Not an Opuss but a question. I want to post some of my poetry and short stories but am concerned about whether I would retain ownership / intellectual copyright over the material or would the owner of Opuss have rights over my content? Tried to find T's and C's but couldn't does anyone know the score?

Genetic Perfection Please note the below is an imagining of a different universe. The opinions below are not mine but of the characters and I certainly do not subscribe to them. That said enjoy! She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear and refocused her attention on the couple before her. Her initial instinct was a firm denial, as certainly from appearance and displayed mannerisms these were a prime example of the archaic poor genetic choices that humanity let run rampant in the past. Dressed in the fashion of a class previously aloud to breed like rabbits to provide the mentally stilted now redundant workforce of the last couple of centuries, this pair looked like throw backs from a time when humans took less care of their genetic future than they did of animals. She vaguely remembered that time, before mankind realised how precious every new #life was and although practising animal husbandry , their own species was allowed to breed randomly with no consideration to outcomes, more like beasts than beasts themselves. She acknowledged that once there was a need for a strong yet stupid workforce of a large size. Back when manual labour was dangerous and most of their issue died young from accidents or disease caused by the squalor of their existence. The other classes had for a while felt pity for these human workhorses and rightly strived to improve conditions. But this had gone to far and once comfortable and safe they did not slow down their breeding, continuing to produce offspring like pigs, with all living to breed anew. With automation most manual roles had become redundant and the intellectual worthy who if anything were too slow to breed, were left paying for generations of breeding redundants who did nothing but reproduce and sit around demanding support for their legion of worthless brats. Crime rates soured and the valuable section of humanity were held at ransom by the mass of uneducated (by choice as they were given free education but attacked the teachers and slunk off to parks to drink cheep cider and swear at OAP's ) lazy yobs. As planetary resources dwindled, a decade or so ago the groundbreaking decision had been made to regulate humanities future. Genetic suitability would be carefully screened to ensue a healthy level of useful elements of society. Population levels and existing demand for certain skill sets were considered in depth before anyone was permitted children. It didn't mean that the blue collars were bred out, far from it, but never again could there be a scrounging underbelly with hands out to the hardworking public contributing nothing but bad genetics and wasted resource. She scanned the file of the male. He was physically strong and healthy but mentally lacking, he had shunned education and had committed a range of petty crime. If seemed he had met his perspective mate at a nightclub the infamous meat markets of the hoards. She checked the additional notes, the process was quite extensive to ensure proper screening and iron out prejudice. The couple had been closely observed in their day to day interactions to get an idea of character which may not be determined by purely sample testing. An individual of value could and as history had proven often did come from any background, so selection was through much more than a judgement based on idealised stereotypes as similar program's had been in the past. This man however seemed to have little going for him other than a strong body suitable for labouring, a profession which was already oversubscribed. His anti-social behaviour did nothing to redeem his situation and with a sigh she marked him down for castration. If humanity wanted to survive the next century with limited resources, decisions such as these had to be made. Initially of course there were objections, quite violent at times, queries raised about personal freedoms and the like. But these were eventually put down, it was clear to see what result giving people this "personal freedom" had. Did they want to be free to live in squalor, staving and disease ridden working until they dropped for what little resources remained? No, people wanted their nice homes, innovative technology and a fair economic system, no disease and no crime or war and to get that, some alleged freedoms had to be sacrificed. Society was good now, well managed and controlled, it was almost perfect she mused. She turned her attention to the woman. She certainly matched the man in terms of intellectual ability and character assessment. Her past was equally undesirable and to top it off she had a number of genetic deficiencies which marked her as a product of the past. However she had excellent child carrying qualities which some more desirable candidates lacked. This woman in days gone by was one of those working class breeders who birthed children annually to see them perish of disease or exploited in mills. She made a mark on the file, "surrogate". Obviously she would never in the foreseeable future be able to pass on her own DNA but she would be used time and again to carry the infants of other more valuable females whose employment or physicality meant that they either could not be spared or were unsuitable for pregnancy. This woman would become useful spending the rest of her #life pregnant and producing until she was retired. The assessor smiled pleased with her choices and content in her role in the new progressive society. She put down her marker and headed outside to take some lunch. She opened the door to that atrium and froze in mute shock and horror. Outside in her perfect ordered world all hell had broken loose.

Emerald Eyes The hazy fog of dreaming gradually lifted from Sam as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his limbs. He kicked away his bedding and cautiously yet blearily poked his head out of his room and lazily scratched his ear. He vaguely remembered dreams of a more wild existence, the hot sultry air, heat that formed shimmering eddies in the sky and soft unrelenting sand as far as the eye could see. He also vaguely, as the days dreaming subsided, remembered the fear. Constant scanning of the horizon for that black screeching death that could plummet down at any second ripping limb from limb, then carting his bloodied, broken still feeling carcass away to be devoured by cruel beak and unmerciful talons. Now however Sam was hungry. His tummy felt empty and bereft. He bumbled over to his private stash by his bed, but found it empty. He knew he had put some nibbles there yesternight before going to sleep, but for some strange reason it had all gone. This seemed to happen sometimes, the same days he remembered hearing strange grating and scraping noises while he slept and woke to find everything a bit different. Oh well he would just have to make a trip upstairs to the larder, for some reason when his stash got pilfered, the larder was overflowing with new bounties of fruit, seeds and nuts, as if restocked by some benevolent deity. He felt that it might be linked to the pink warm "hand from above" which he was never sure was going to magically produce food and water or swoop down like the thing from his dreams and pull him into the air. It scared him but somehow was safe, as after the terrifying assent, it let him explore new worlds and sleep in that warm nook between the fluffy fibrous thing and its skin. Sometimes it incased him in a bubble which let him run and run almost as if he was free, letting him roam almost anywhere. He liked the see-through rolling thing. Meanwhile, Sam had reached the larder and was delighted to find the cornucopia he desired. Fearful that it might disappear, Sam rapidly began packing as much as he could into his pouches, almost to bursting point so that they bulged out clownishly either side. Happy that he had grabbed as much as he could, Sam scurried back to his room to deposit his gains and have a quick breakfast. Sated, Sam went for a long run before going through his nightly ritual of checking that there was no hole or tunnel that had suddenly appeared leading to "the world beyond" . He had an obsession with "the world beyond" that he simply couldn't explain. Something deep in his soul told him that somewhere beyond the walls of his current existence was true freedom, the open dunes and miles and miles of soft luxurious sand that he dreamed of daily. Maybe even others of his kind, females perhaps, he did want to meet females, although he wasn't sure what they were, or why he wanted them, it was just a yearning feeling deep inside. He was obsessed with escape and running this way and that so fast that no dark foreboding predator with eyes of gold could catch him. While checking the NW corner of his house, Sam noticed something different. A slight gap between the silver bars and the blue base below. He pushed again, his little heart hammering against his chest. Yes, it was definitely looser than normal. He scrabbled urgently widening the gap, repeatedly flattening himself and scrabbling some more until like sauce from a trodden on ketchup packet he burst out. He was free at last. Finally after all those nights of trying. Now he could run wherever he wanted, with no "hand from above" to stop him. He sprinted away, his little legs pumping manically beneath his fat little body. Sam was filled with elation and joy, until inexplicably there was no ground beneath him and suddenly he was falling, madly squirming, spinning through emptiness. Then just as alarmingly all the air was blasted out of his panting lungs and a horrible pain, of which he had no understanding, shot up his leg. He turned whimpering to see what was wrong and saw his little back foot twisted and bent at a disjointed angle. Pain pulsed up and down his leg making him feel nauseous and faint. He pulled himself up and found he could still hobble around if he kept the affected foot of the ground. He swallowed down the pain and scanned the area for somewhere to curl up and recover. Just then he heard an ominous creek and a terrifying mewl. A deep vibrating noise filled the air as death itself slunk into the sight. Sam desperately searched the landscape for some bolt hole his heart rate rocketing and his eyes bulging out of his sockets. Two emerald eyes toured the terrain and with a purposeful glimmer alighted on Sam's quaking form. Sam recoiled in horror as a large pink tongue slid out from a vicious maw filled with razor sharp glittering teeth, to lick its bewhiskered lips. Forgetting his injured leg and filled with pure unadulterated fear and panic, Sam bolted for a hole between two oak units. Images from his nightmare crowded his head, he could almost feel those sharp stiletto claws ripping into his flesh and those scything bitter fangs scissoring through bone and tendon, snapping his head from his body already broken and torn. He could imagine that wicked flickering tongue on his exposed intestines licking his blood then smearing it with one nonchalant paw. Death would not be merciful or quick from the emerald eyed monster, it would draw out every agonising second, having its fun until the end, before presenting Sam's mangled desecrated corpse to the deity who had always protected him. Until now. Heart thundering and legs flying Sam miraculously made it to the gap. With heaving lungs and every breath burning through his mouth and nose like a desert wind, he curled himself into the smallest ball possible, hoping that he would be hidden from those murderous eyes. A howl of frustration ripped through the room , thundering in Sam's eardrums and making him tremble uncontrollably from nose to tail. A monstrous hairy limb forced its was through the opening its devilish claws raking the air in front of Sam's face. Terrified he pressed himself deeper against the wall and whimpered pitifully. The arm was withdrawn and replaced with a huge malevolent eye peering balefully at him through the crack. Suddenly there was a new sharp bellowing cry, obliterating all other noises and making Sam dizzy with fear. Suddenly there was a loud "berwuff" and the emerald eye withdrew rapidly, ears flattened to its greyish skull. With a hiss and a release of breath, that stank of decaying and rotting flesh the beast pelted away, spitting and cursing, before disappearing from sight, pursued by a bigger yellowy thing making deep booming noises. Sam hugged himself tight fearing what fresh terror awaited him that could outmatch the beast. The gap was filled by another fathomlessly large blue eye obstructing all in Sam's view and plunging him into darkness. Then a familiar noise , soothing and calm yet still far too loud, filled the day air. Something gently settled on the cool stone ground in front of Sam's hiding place. It was the "hand from above"! Shaking and exhausted Sam crawled out of his hole to sit on the familiar pink elevator and shortly found himself safely buried under his own bedding, warm and secure. However from that night onwards all his days where haunted by images of that big malevolent eye hovering above him singing to him of painful nerve flaying death.