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Green Shadows Part 3Hanes shrank back at the sound of his commanders booming voice.
'Yes sir. Sorry sir.' He chimed, propelled into the respectful position by the guard behind him.
'I expected better from you Hanes! It was enough that Parkinson lost two of his troops, but you adding another to the pile! Get out of my sight Hanes, and hope to God that you aren't next to go!' and then to the intercom 'Send in Brady thanks Doris.'
'Yes sir.' Came the reply.
Hanes walked gloomily out through his boss's office door, passing Albert Brody on the way out.
'Good luck mate.' Hanes muttered.
'Thanks Hanes.' Brady murmured in return, before knocking on the office door.
'In Brady.' The boss demanded. Brady walked in slowly. 'Sit Brady.' Brady sat.
'Now, what I need you to do is to confirm that the sabotage on the laboratory did indeed cut out the power supply. Use what you need necessary to figure it out, but do it fast!' The boss coughed, hand to chest.
'Rightio sir; I'll need a computer that's hooked up to the inter
Green Shadows Part 2Destiny's eyes opened.
'Huh? What? Where am I?'
'Shh dear, you're safe now. Just sleep.'
Parkinson tripped on a large black wire that pulsated with bright blue electricity. Swearing, he stood.
'Keep running!' He ordered Hobbs after the young recruit stopped to turn around.
'Voice Identification failed.' The voice seemed to be protruding from every available speaker in the building.
'They're coming!' Hobbs cried, dodging through the wires, grates, boxes and caged areas. Parkinson sighed, 'of course they are,' he thought, 'it's their job.'
Both men headed back the way they came, and finally located the silver vent in the wall. The vent itself shone a bright silver, unlike everything else in the room that shone a dull green.
Clambering into the vent, Hobbs swore. He had gone first and had sliced a new wound into his back through his camouflage gear.
'Keep moving!' Parkinson whispered from the vent mouth. When there was enough room, he clambered in backwards, and pulled the vent shu
Green ShadowsDestiny fell.
She was dead.
'Christ man, I told you not to overdo it!' Parkinson cursed, jabbing at the body with his right boot.
'Sorry man, the adrenaline got to me. First job, new gun.' Pause, 'Easter egg.'
Parkinson looked up at Hobbs and sighed; 'Just get over here and help hide the body. Boss won't be happy if he finds out the body wasn't disposed of properly.'
Hobbs nodded, and hobbled over to his commanding officer.
Grabbing Destiny by the hands, they dragged her to the center of the floor and stood back. The room was dark and silent except for the soft whirr of industrial fans. Everything seemed to glow a dark green, almost as though it were a game.
Parkinson looked up; the door across from him stood tall and wide; it's colour bright silver. The only thing that shone anything other than green.
'Listen,' He said, pausing; tilting his head to the left. Hobbs shook his head.
'It's nothing chief; just a breeze in the vents.'
Parkinson held up his hand as Hobbs continued to
Stand-Off MarauderThe gun click-clacked in his hands,
The centerpiece rolled over,
Locking another bullet into place.
'You see; there's one thing different,
Between you and I,'
He said, spit flying from his mouth.
I watched on as he weighed his weapon,
Feeling it against his skin,
Adjusting his strength and eyesight.
'You're a foolish boy; a marauder's son,
Defenseless and incapable,'
He spoke, words flying off his tongue.
He lifted his pistol in line with his eyesight,
Examined me down the barrel,
Examining me; his inevitable target.
'You come out here, eyes red with fury,
But you're just so immature,'
He scoffed, cocking his gun with ancient fingers.
I adjust my stance,
Ever-ChangingEvery day, she held the small round ball. Her friends would often steal it from her, and in their hands it would change colour. It would go from a dark yellow, and change to a bright red.
'Give it back!' She would cry.
They did, and it turned blue in her hands.
Her best friend noted its colour change as they talked; from dark yellow to bright yellow, and sometimes even to a lilac purple.
Seeing that change made her smile.
Sometimes boys would ask her out, and the small ball turned bright blue, before slowly turning green out of skepticism.
'Please, don't tease me.' She would say, as the dark blue returned to her faithful ball.
On special days, with her family, her ball would turn bright pink. She would laugh and joke at them; tease them and smile.
That colour was their favourite, and they loved coaxing it out.
She loved her small ball, and carried it everywhere. When she was scared or worried she would squeeze it, and it would slowly change to a calmer yellow.
People responded to the b
Faithful FriendsBright yellow sits above the fridge,
Grinning at me like food.
Pink is glued to the toilet door,
Amused and feeling good.
Hot pink taunts me from his place,
Above my money box.
Yellow sits in my second draw,
Without a pair of socks.
Light blue stands upon his shelf,
Above the liquor fridge.
Green sits on my work-filled desk,
My homework of a bridge.
Dark blue frowns as he lies,
Beside my box of tissues.
Red stands angry on my shoulder,
Stress-ball for my issues.
Yellows, pinks, greens, reds and blues,
Useful in rise and falls.
Happy, sad, scared, shocked and raged,
My faithful friends; stress-balls.
Unless I Say SoLet's get one thing straight,
You're a boy.
Even from the very start,
You were given rights above me.
Now that equality is demanded,
You still get the rights.
I'm expected to wear dresses,
And play with dolls.
Let's get one thing straight,
You're a girl.
Even from the very start,
I have had it worse.
From the very beginning,
I've had to provide for you.
I've had to kill for you,
And I've had to support you.
You know nothing!
I have to give birth.
I have to raise the child,
And sew your clothes.
My life is in the kitchen,
And wherever you demand me to be.
I have to cook for you,
And be here for you when you get home.
You know not of what you say!
You think your life is tough?
Try being me!
Go to work day in and out,
Come home to an angry wife.
Give her money to spend on junk,
And deal with the noise of the kids.
You have no idea what it's like!
To live life like a wife!
All that pain I went through,
To give you your precious son!
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
Keep in Touch!