Hi ruraljurorlibrarian,

I really like the imagery of this piece. The words flow very nicely and create a sense of peace somehow, if that makes sense.

A little nitpick:

>each awake when tomatoes bloom

I found I lost my immersions with this sentence at the word 'tomatoes'. Might just be me missing it's meaning but for me, it broke the vibe of the poem.

My favorite sentence:

>each season a funeral procession

I find this sentence to be really powerful and an excellent ending to your poem.

I'm sorry if I seem dumb, but I don't get it. Could somebody please explain it to me?

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Run? Hide? It doesn't matter where James goes. There will be snakes.

I would have just Wished for wolf repellent.

Hey this is good. I love the brevity. It is refreshing. Very nice. You put more into the story with a few words to make a person use their imagination. I just wanted to share that and thanks for writing!

The belt and road initiative has recently expanded to providing truck-kun.

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They were just people.

Most of them anyways. A few had actual powers, but most were just people. Flawed, selfish people.

I assumed they all had some kind of power, even if it was stupid. But no, they were just bad costumes and egos that would not quit. Some of the better ones had skills and training, most were just idiots looking for a rush.

A lot of them even acted as villains on the side. Being a Hero got the fame. Arranging a heist after calling in a favor with a buddy to look the other way paid the bills. Not that I can blame them, corruption was the ultimate result when no one holds a crazy guy in a mask accountable for their action.

Collateral damage was the term.

That's how the papers listed them. Not friends, not family, not mothers and children.

Collateral damage.

I never expected it to be easy. The first one almost fell into my lap, literally. Stupid bastard fell off a roof while I was pissing behind the liquor store.

He didn't die when he hit the ground. He just laid there with a broken back gurgling up blood. I didn't need to take off the mask covering just his eyes to recognize him as one of the guys from that night.

The half of bottle of jack was enough to finish him off. I called it a mercy kill as I poured the rest of the bottle on the body and lit a match. It was more mercy than he had shown at least.

Today was number seven. All it took was a broken pipe I found next to the dumpster. This one had a hood on, might as well have been blind when I hit him from behind. It was almost too easy, but that was fine.

It wasn't about the thrill, that's what they were looking for. It was about plain and simple revenge, and I was getting good at it.

- S... Sir, your Lordship, sir?

- Mmh?

- I'm afraid I am the bearer of bad news.

- What is it?

- It's about Kragnor, sir. The Bearer of Light, he... He defeated him. He's dead, sir.

The minion cowered, ready to feel the wrath of his master explode.

- Oh, Kragnor. That's unfortunate. Which one was he again?

- Sir?

- Kragnor. Which one was he?

- The... I mean... Sir, are you joking? Kragnor, the northen barbarian, champion of the Dark Blood army!

- The one with the blue loincloth?

- Yes!

- Right. He will be missed.

He yawned.

- Put what's-his-name in his place as champion, the one with the axe.

- ... Do you mean Sierv, the Evil Blight?

- Does he have a big axe?

- Yes?

- Then yes.

- Sir, pardon my impudence, but... You don't seem quite shaken by this loss.

The dark lord towered over his minion.

- Why should I be? None of you mean anything to me. I will sacrifice every last one of you if it gets me the boy's head. He killed one of my warriors? None the matter. I have more.

His heavy cape flowing in his wake, the evil prince walked out of the room. Close to the door, however, the wet floor caused him to loose his footing, and in an effort to regain balance, he accidently shot the door frame with his little toe.

- Ow! FUCK!

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Hi there Lost_Carcosan!

Thank you for your feedback! I'm glad you enjoyed my poem. Good catch on the meaning of 'trope' not being entirely clear. I've replaced it with tumble.

Thanks again!

Somewhat Douglas Adam's inspired! Neat.

> the name of his 'nemesis'. They belong to the same golf club.

perfectly put

This feels like it was partially inspired from wish.com (which has good prices but terrible service)

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Nice to see they weren’t raging about being wrong or worse being angry about a “heretic pagan god”/demon trying to trick him this was a very smooth experience thank you

My brain had gone through a process when i came to this world. The shock of being hit by a truck (that old cliche from some very cheesy but decent fantasy anime) and finding out that isekai was actually REAL had forced a reboot on how i viewed reality.

First I froze in shock, only my eyes moving to look at the glowing mushrooms and curious fairies surrounding me in the forest I'd woken up in. Full deer in the headlights mode, my brain desperately trying to prevent my body from doing anything stupid while it reconciled with what was happening. After a few seconds I blinked a few times, then blinked really hard once more just to be sure it wasn't fake.

My sheer stupification in those moments before I'd started my adventure in this world had reached levels I had never experienced on Earth. Of all the things to inspire that exact same feeling in me a second time, a cheap sword in a blacksmith bargain bin would be at the bottom of the list. The language had been an absolute pain to learn in this place, but staring straight in my face was a language i thought I would never see again except for my journal. Plain English, "Made in China."

My party found me still frozen, staring at a trashy sword with (to them) some garbled nonsense stamped near the hilt. The questions in my own head were too loud for me to hear theirs. Had this sword been summoned? Did it fall through a wormhole? Was there, impossibly, another country named China in this world that made cheap stuff and used English? I ignored my party as i grabbed the sword and walked up to the smith to find answers.

"Where did this sword come from?" I asked, my voice sounding mildly curious instead of the whirlwind desperate for answers that it was.

"Ah, that's one of the apprentice swords." he said. "I dunno how it got into the bin over there since they aren't allowed to put 'em up for sale 'til they finish their apprenticeship. I'll take it off ya and put it with the rest in the forge."

"I don't want to buy it, I want to know about this mark," I said, pointing to the stamp. He looked closer at the sword, then looked at me with a cocked eyebrow.

"That mark doesn't mean anything unless you're a blacksmith, and it's more of a joke than anything else. Long time ago a legendary smith named Nii'naj Fortenite used that as a maker's mark, said it meant bad quality in his homeland and figured if his work broke he couldn't be blamed if the people who bought his weapons saw it was labelled as garbage. Sure enough, thousands of copycats made cheap replicas, so the mark became a sign of bad quality. Nowadays apprentices use it to show they're still learning the trade. Are you buying anything else?"

"No, I think I'm fine. You guys can keep browsing if you like, i'm going for a walk," I told my team, heading out the door and wondering what the hell was going on. Had that blacksmith really said that with a straight face? Maybe i was overreacting, some other reincarnator probably had a childish sense of humor. But as i walked by a potion stand that sold flasks of Pepis, I got the feeling it wasn't just one. Maybe I would leave my own insignificant and weird mark on this unknowing world later on as well, an inside joke that only people from my world would ever hope to get.

For now, i walked through the city that suddenly had a few more oddities about it than before I'd walked into the smithy, world view once again put on its head.

Basically My Secretly Hot Husband but with Korean products

I can still feel my mother’s grip on my arm. I can still hear her voice when she woke me up this morning. ‘Get ready,’ she had said. ‘Say goodbye quickly.’ I can hear her screams for me too. They echo in the open air as she desperately reaches out the window of the spaceship.

I stand frozen, alone on the launching pad. My feet already feel rooted to the ground; they will only continue to sink in the next few days, I know. The Earth is about to be completely consumed by its ocean, and I am not different enough to escape it.

She’s still calling for me, and the sky is still painted by an early-morning sunrise. I turn on my heels and face away. I tell myself it’s to protect her feelings. I know that is a lie.

I pull off my bag first, then my shoes and socks. I feel the hot concrete beneath my toes. Somehow the burning is welcome. I mean, what’s the harm in it now? I’m going to die anyway, I might as well experiment.

I pull out my journal and sit myself down to write. You’re probably expecting some sob story or dystopian novel where I was left behind because of my social class or some intrinsic trait I cannot control. But no. I was left behind because I wasn’t on time. Simple as that. Simple as…

A tear falls onto the page. Why am I documenting anything when nobody can physically read it?

I close the book. I can’t do this.

I flop down on the floor, not bothering to even pull my hair out from underneath me. I’ll just lay here. I have to because maybe they’ll come back for me. Maybe they’ll decide that the Earth is worth salvaging. I clutch my eyes closed.

Somehow not trying is easier than pretending to be productive on these last days. I deserve this, I admit beneath the prickly and hot Sunlight. It’s my fault I was left behind. I’m no special last human.

I’m ready to sleep. And I do. For how long, I don’t know. But it’s peaceful, the not trying, waiting for the water to consume my body and trail me deep beneath its waves.

The water finds my face, but it pulls back almost immediately. This repeats again and again until I am interested enough to poke an eye open. I find not water, but the saliva-filled tongue of a big brown and white dog.

It’s still licking me. I turn over, trying to will it to leave. It doesn’t.

I pull myself up. “Go away,” I say to the dog verbally this time. It just sits and wags its tail softly from side to side. “That is the opposite of what I said…”

It cocks its head at me and its collar tag glints in the light: Cookie. “Your name was really common,” I note. “Did your owners leave you behind?”

(I’m too tired to continue rn lol, but I may in the future!)

Someone should write an alien being introduced to Urban Dictionary and Know Your Meme

She watched as the ship blasted away from the blue-gray dot that she had called home. Perhaps she would never see it again. All the better; the memories made there would stay there, forgotten, like the ancient buildings, the faces of old Empri carved into unyielding granite, the cities once desperate for more, now empty metal shells, abandoned in the hopes of something better.

She curled up in the space between the window and the storage unit she had placed on the bed, knees squished against her tiny chest in a familiar position from days long gone. She could enjoy this moment to herself before having to face whatever was to come.

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