Tangled

Tangled, by P. L. Cobb

Coopid, who may or may not exist, or who may be a parasite?

Tried to Play the Game

Tried to Play the Game, writing and photography by P.L.Cobb

It took me long enough to stop trying; I was not fitting in, nor would I ever fit in.

Writing and photography by P.L. Cobb

I was yoked

To dissimilar, dis-interesting, vapid people when I came to play Continue reading

Somber Attitude

Somber Attitude, writing and photography by Penny C.

A paragon of despair: that is what he is

Story and photography by P. L. Cobb

Somber attitude showing

Through the gaps

A paragon of despair:

That is what he is

And in no good way

There is nothing good to say

Regarding my melancholy

Enemy–not my friend

There is nothing in all of eternity

That could change my mind

So he heaves a heavy sigh

His somber attitude showing

ashkenaz

Into the Hallway

Into the Hallway, writing and photography by Penny C.

He retreated back into his room, locking the door and sliding the dresser in front of it.

Writing and photography by Penny C.

Jared poked his head out into the hallway cautiously. It was brightly lit, almost blinding his eyes,but he could see nothing. On the other hand he could hear something walking across the linoleum flooring.

A great many somethings.

He retreated back into his room, locking the door and sliding the dresser in front of it. It was time to review his escape since the hallway was no longer a viable route.

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Cosmic Splendour

Cosmic Splendour, writing and photography by Penny C.

Who are you? Who am I?

Writing and photography by P. L. Cobb

Cosmic splendour,

Aplenty.

Hidden within the stranger’s eye.

If we are nothing but a lonely god’s dream,

Who are you?

Who am I?

Inter-dimensional Sailor

Inter-dimensional Sailor, writing and photography by Penny C.

Inter-dimensional sailor . . .

Story and art by P. L. Cobb

Inter-dimensional sailor

Cloud-eater

One that slays the moon

Quarter by quarter

Tied to limbo

But everywhere

Except for home

ashkenaz

Sorry About Your Mom

Sorry About Your Mom, written and photographed by Penny C.

Sorry you had to grow up in fantasy land.

Writing and photography by P. L. Cobb

Sorry about your mom.

Sorry she tried to eat you when you were two.

Continue reading

We’re Done Now

We're Done Now, written and photographed by Penny C.

It turns out you’re a bit of a joke!

Writing and photography by P. L. Cobb

We’re done now

(You should know)

Continue reading

Old Beardless

Written by P. L. Cobb

Old Beardless stood, watching the girl at the table nearby. She knew what he was up to, but there was little he could do about it. If he moved an inch everyone would know what he was up to (or assume that they did). That was just another stroke of bad luck on his part. Ever since he had killed the last one his life had been nothing but a series of mishaps.

Old Beardless continued the ruse with a sigh. This is so damn boring, he thought to himself. It wouldn’t be long before she slipped up.

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Label Me Once

Label Me Once, writing and art by Penny C.

“I know you better than you know yourself.”

Story and art by P. L. Cobb

In honour of those who have fallen to outside opinions:

For every time someone was ‘surprised’ at your success,

For every time someone was ‘surprised’ by something new you tried.

Continue reading

A Brief Trip to Mars

A Brief Trip to Mars, written and photographed by Penny C.

When he had touched down on the surface of Mars Carlson took out a book-shaped bundle.

Writing and photography by P. L Cobb

Up, up, up. Carlson ascended into the heavens, passing clouds, passing through the ozone layer. Someone must have seen him on his journey upwards; he wasn’t travelling very fast. That thought quickly turned to other, more important things as the vacuum of space pulled at him. Carlson let out a sigh, knowing that it was his own spell that protected him from a sudden and brutal death. Continue reading

Soup #2

Soup #2, written and photographed by Penny C.

Dinner is served!

Writing and photography by Penny C.

The imp smiles

While you pine,

And spoil

Melting away

As you boil.

Dinner is served!

ashkenaz

I Am Weird Now

I Am Weird Now, writing and photography by Penny C.

My hands are my feet, my arms are now wings.

Writing and photography by Penny C.

I have no idea what I’m doing here.

Up and down have changed directions;

Now they’re left and right. Continue reading

(Did You Lock It?)

(Did You Lock It?) story and photography by Penny C.

(Did you lock it?)

Story and photography by Penny C.

Simpering, mewing

Caterwauling, crawling

On the floor

Going for the door,

(Did you lock it?)

coopid

Just Go Back

Just Go Back, writing and photography by Penny C.

Sipping your coffee . . .

Story and photography by Penny C.

Just go back to reading

your phone book

Sipping your coffee

While people suffer

Crushed under your

Feet.

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Kingdom of the Cats

Written by Penny C.

Kingdom of the Cats:

Headless birds,

Headless rats.

All is a foul stink.

Filth between your toes.

Wasteland:

The Kingdom of the Cats.

P.S: I have nothing against cats, even if they are out to get us.

ashkenaz

 

Monster Cake

Monster Cake, by Mitchel Stoycheff, Jake Zaccaria, and Penny C. #art #photomanipulation,#wtf http://theenigmaticmonsterproject.com/2015/07/10/monster-cake/

Theo baked you a cake . . . Yay! #alwayswatchingyoulol

By Mitchell Stoycheff, Jake Zaccaria, and Penny C.

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Sober Up

Sober Up, written and photographed by Penny C. http://theenigmaticmonsterproject.com/2015/07/10/sober-up/

I was about to turn around when I heard a tinkling sound.

I had done it again: I had lost my keys in the dark. When and where had they fallen? I was at a loss. With hands curled up into fists I pounded on the door to my home. My roommate was normally there.

Just not tonight.

“Shit!” I swore under my breath. I peeked into the living room window, or tried. Everything in the inside was dark from my vantage-point, so there was no luck there.

I was about to turn around when I heard a tinkling sound. It was the tinkling of spurs, the type you found on cowboy boots. When I looked it was just me and the street lamps. I looked everywhere for the source of the noise, but came up with nothing; all the while the sound started to increase in intensity. It sounded like someone rushing up towards me. My heart began to pound. Aural hallucinations! I thought frantically to myself. That’s all. No need to worry!

That didn’t stop the sound from getting closer though.

And there was no convenient off button . . .

Behind you!

I swung around just in time to see a dead man sitting atop a horse–a wraith-like cowboy rushing up towards me–death with a revolver in place of his scythe. The skeletal figure took one shot at me.

I woke up in my bed, safe, but drenched in sweat. I tried sitting up.

I couldn’t.

You’re not sweating, I realized.

ashkenaz

Teeth

Whenever she closed her eyes she saw a mouth–filled to the brim with teeth–open wide. Sleep did not come easy.

ashkenaz

Mr. Alien

Mr. Alien, written and photographed by Penny C. http://theenigmaticmonsterproject.com/2015/07/09/mr-alien/

I wanna go for a funky space ride . . .

Story and photography by Penny C.

Take me for a ride in your spaceship,

Mr. Alien.

I’m all alone

And I’ve got nothing to do.

I wanna go for a funky space ride,

Mr. Alien.

So tell me,

What are you going to do?

coopid

His Old Self

His Old Self, written and photographed by Penny  C. http://theenigmaticmonsterproject.com/2015/07/09/his-old-self/

Memories of the past flooded him with regret.

Story and photography by Penny C.

Chrystopher. I am now Chrystopher, he told himself once more.

It had been a long time since he had done this . . . Reflect upon himself. Chrystopher promised a new beginning.

That was his hope.

He still couldn’t trust himself not to fall back into old habits–to fall back into his darker self. When everything was young he had been different; he swore that he had never been so evil. He had simply grown into it.

He hated that, but it was the truth. “I hate myself,” he murmured. Chrystopher wasn’t trying to be hard on himself, just honest.

Again with that? a part of him said in derision. Just forget it; it’s futile and you know this. Don’t disappoint yourself!

Perhaps that part of him was right?

“It probably is,” he reminded himself. It was him, after all. At that thought he allowed himself a deep chuckle.

“I was such a bastard!”

You still are! the cynical voice replied. That part of him was his darker self. Chrystopher didn’t have to like it, but that part of him would always be with him; he was better off accepting that now. Memories of the past flooded him with regret. Sometimes he wondered what his life would have been like had he woken up to himself sooner?

Would the king out of darkness still have his wife?

Would his son still have aligned himself with the opposing faction, and would he still have disowned and exiled him?

Would he have absconded his duties as a father, and would he have allowed his mistress to terrorize his children?

Would his youngest daughter be alive today?

When Marianna left he had hated her for it; she was unhappy, and because of that had left him and their children. Da’Kiri–his old self–had fallen into madness. That had been so long ago, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had passed into oblivion.

“Forgive me. I am a bastard.”

coopid

I Just Danced

I Just Danced, writing and photography by Penny C. http://theenigmaticmonsterproject.com/2015/07/09/i-just-danced/

One night became an eternity.

Story and photography by Penny C.

The Owl and I

We danced upon the moon one night.

And to my delight,

One night became an eternity.

Forever dancing in the skies

Never a care of the old life I once had.

I just danced.

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