omsvep.

mildred has a box.

it’s a big box.

mildred’s box is filled with stones.

there’s a lot of stones.

sometimes, she throws them.

others, she fills her pockets with them before going on long jogs.

& still others, she counts them.

they’re magical stones - overflowing with conundrums.

mildred hates them, but uses them for ID at bars sometimes.

they stay hidden under her bed, tucked safely away in their ebony square,

until someone walks into the room.

then she begins the ‘displaying them proudly with seeming reluctance’ game.

she’s quite good.

yes, mildred has a box of rocks.

or does the box of rocks have mildred?

kurek.

destruction breeds destruction

& setting her one-eyed gaze on the physician’s assitant,

Minerva made a mess.

you may have seen the body count in the papers?

but these are desperate, gorgeous times

& zombies walk the earth when the spirit moves.

out of ammo,

she stoppered up her burning lungs, shouldered her shotty,

& embraced the good Mr. Tandy come alive again,

knowing it might well be the last she’d ever bestow upon another form

(read this with romanticism rolling on your mental reel-to-reel, dear reader)

& so they skipped (gore-lumbered) into the sunset,

Minerva clutching her bandolier,

Tandy’s fingers twitching ‘round his guns -

necromancers & abhorsens both,

staring down their humanity.

facing facts never looked so good.