Apollo's Choice

You’re pretty like the sun

No, not in the way you’re thinking

Not bright as the sun pretty

Not warmth of the sun pretty

Not blindingly pretty

You're angrily pretty

In a way that your rays

Kiss my cheeks with a 

Quiet rage that only my heart knew 

You’re dangerously pretty

The kind that makes me second guess

Makes me want to reach for you

And regret that decision later

You’re burningly pretty

In the way that your hands

Scorched your favorite spots

On my body so that no other hands would fit

You’re… pretty 

But not in the way I remember

You flew too close to the sun

And by gods, Apollo wept for you

The sun god swallowed you whole

And healed your wounds

But when he returned you,

You were not the same

Apollo wrapped your fingers 

In ichor soaked bandages

And you had become one with him

His new Icarus

Published in December 2024 release of Dreams in Hiding: After Words We Go From Here under the name Jaxon Clouse

Prisoner

Prisoner in a body 

I'm supposed to call mine

Nails scraping against 

A thick skinned wall

Screaming 

Clawing 

Praying for escape

Miss, ma'am, her

Don't look, don't speak 

Mister, sir, he

Engage, speak free

You, them, they

Shout it with pride

In the constraints of 

My own prison

The effects of patriarchy

Burn into my skin

Be a LADY, 

Tend to your MAN

Yet my prison won't 

Scream who I am

Free, homey, loving

Drowning in myself 

To scream out my life

This prison proving me wrong 

This unforgiving prison

Kept me in its hold

For nineteen years 

But in its twentieth,

I will dig my way 

Through the thick skinned walls

Inhale a first of purity of self

Exhale the last of doubt

And be the escaped convict

You were meant to be

Published in the November 2022 release of Dreams in Hiding under the name Jaxon Clouse

Obscure Surroundings

Disembodied sounds

Quiet voices fill our ears

A loud chorus of “What? Huh?”

As feet pound against the stairs

A blur of blue, maybe some red too?

Did you hear your name?

Maybe a muffled laugh

Look here, look there,

Find the faces that just aren’t there

Look left, look right,

Is that your best friend? 

Oh no, oh my,

We can’t tell who

You used to be

4AM

It’s 4am and I’m thinking.

Thinking of all the things

That I never said.

Of the things I should’ve said.

All the things you now know.

All these thoughts bouncing around

When I can’t sleep and you are.

The moments when you roll over

And hold me tighter than the

Blankets ever did.

It’s 4am and I’ve buried myself

Inside of myself so nobody sees. 

Nobody can see me cry.

So they can’t see how I die.

That’s why I’m alone.

Then you strolled in.

You stole my heart. 

You held me as I cried.

You knew me inside out.

You became my 4am.

You know my secrets, 

My love,

My weakness, 

My strength.

You became my everything.

4am will never be the same.

Dragon King

Scaly Royalty

Flying Monarch

A match of no compare

Yet truly an illicit heir

Scales of white

Horns of gray

A boy upon the chair

As a king of little fear

Crowned Lizard

Master Wyvern

There on a throne of lies

A war with the past King’s son

Lord Ormr1

Descent of Fafnir2

His war is never done

But love has always won

The serpent sultan

His spitfire majesty

Is taken for treason with no

Intent to make a princess a wife

The firedrake tycoon

A scaled sovereign

The righteous boy of hope

With jewels scattered in his hair

A fire-breathing emperor

The Baron of Wings

Peace prevails

And all shall hail

The Dragon King has come

Ormr- Old Norse for Dragon

Fafnir- a dragon slain in Norse Mythology by Sigurd

Seem of the Sea

Shiny patent leather

To embellish the 

Desolate craters of his waist

Where that leather belt rests

His breath that smells

Of mortar and death

As he stuffs a third

Animal cracker in.

Through the fogged sky

And eyes with murky vision

And a harpoon held unsteadily

This expedition will be 

One of all time. 

With a spiral throw

The poon will go 

Through the opaque
Veil of the sea

And pierce a creature

No one could foresee

But a minute too late

And the dusty bricks are his fate

As the shiny rocks fade.

A light to be seen,

But not a fluorescent gleam

Reflected off an aloe’s seam.

Time is Too Late

A second too early

A second too late

A second more to spend with the 

People I lost

Four months to live

A year and a half to survive

And your one eye saw Mom before you went

And I didn’t get to say goodbye

Until after it was too late

A minute too early

A minute too late

A minute more to spend with the

People I lost

At 12 you couldn’t get help

And your only thought to 

Be okay was to go

We hadn’t talked in two years

But I know those hugs you gave 

When you said I was your teddy bear

Will be with me until the end

An hour too early

An hour too late

An hour more to spend with the

People I lost

You taught me to fish with

Worms and warm tobacco juice

Whispering “here kitty, kitty, kitty” 

In hopes of that one catfish to fall into your trap

Warping out of Time

          A lone scientist, draped in his starch white coat, asked Callum the same question several times, but he was too involved in staring at the large contraption before him. His yellow tinted eyes, itching from the new burn of contacts, followed the cylindrical shape of this machine and saw the outline against the harsh whites of the lab walls. The machine, which was labelled haphazardly in an almost too hard to read scrawl, was called the Fall through the Dimension. Callum thought it was supposed to be some type of pop culture reference, but he wasn’t sure. 

The scientist asked his question for what seemed to be the hundredth time and Callum finally heard him, “Are you sure you want to do this? Once you’ve left our time, there may be no way to get you back. It’s a huge risk.”

He darted his marigold eyes towards the other man, finding his jaded eyes watching him in concern. Then, with a quick shake of his head, “Of course I don’t want to do this, but someone needs to take the risk. And I was your first volunteer,
Dr. Westgard.”

“For the last time, Callum, and we’ve been over this a thousand times. You can call me Bentley, you’re my assistant.”

Callum smiled slightly and took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought to say goodbye to anyone he knew. His mother would be furious that he was hopping through dimensions and said nothing, but it was far too late now. The time was here and it would neither of the men any good to stand around much longer and delay this experiment. Hesitantly, Callum stepped into the metal cylinder and gave Bently the thumb of approval to prove he was ready. Bently, even more hesitant than Callum had been, counted down from ten as he was flipping switches and readying the machine to launch Callum through the wormhole and into some alternate universe that he may never come back from.

“...three, two, one… good luck on the other side of this, Callum,” Bently whispered to himself as he laid his thumb on the final button to send his assistant into a world that nobody would ever know again.

Memory on the Brain

Mia Sukiyaoi was only six years old when she was diagnosed with Juvenile Pilocytic Astrocytoma on her cerebrum. Her mother, Janey, and father, Leon, became very worried about their young daughter as the only treatment necessary was neurological surgery, yet they chose to put it off. Mia would still run and play like a normal child would yet she had more issues with learning new concepts that her parents taught her. Everything the couple did was to help their child but nothing seemed
to stick.

Within the next couple of weeks, Mia fell ill. Her parents rushed the little girl straight to the emergency room at the closest hospital. It was then that the couple learned that Mia’s Astrocytoma had developed into Fibrillary Astrocytoma. A neurosurgeon was rushed in immediately as the child needed emergency surgery. Moments before the surgeon arrived at the hospital, Mia suffered from an epileptic episode, something she’d never experienced before. Her mother became a sobbing mess in her husband’s arms as she worried about their daughter. 

Nurses surrounded the child’s bed as they rolled her to her side so that she wouldn’t suffocate from her saliva. It took ten minutes to get the child to cease the episode. Mia had to be put under anesthesia half an hour later. Her parents frantically waited in the waiting room, her mother never once sitting down.

The neurosurgeon, Doctor Zachariah Patsavas, was ready to perform the surgery on the young girl, promising to take extreme care of her. He prepared himself for the surgery as he’d never performed surgery on anyone as young as Mia. Within the first five minutes, he made the first incision around the top of Mia’s head. With slow precision, he removed the top of her skull to have full, unrestricted access to the child’s brain.

Zachariah was slow about taking the scalpel to Mia’s brain, afraid of damaging her health even further. He cut small pieces of the astrocytoma tumor at a time, careful not to nic her cerebrum more than he had to. The nurses surrounding him made a few jokes to try and ease the tension in the room. Zachariah’s chest felt heavier each time Mia’s breathing would falter a breath, each time her heart skipped a beat. His nurses had aggravated him enough to where he pulled away from the child.

“Another joke ‘bout this girl’s life and all of you will leave this room. If you all aren’t willing to help save her for the sake of her emotionally fragile mother, so this child can live as long as you all will, don’t bother coming back to work tomorrow,” he said sternly, watching the faces of the nurses go blank. Some of the nurses even looked at their feet in embarrassment.

Patsavas concentrated on the most difficult task of his career as a neurosurgeon. After a deep breath, he went back to taking small chunks of the tumor. Mia’s heartbeat and breathing didn’t falter after all joking had ceased. A surgery that should’ve only taken three hours took seven hours to complete. The doctor himself had taken Mia to her surgical intensive care unit before going out to talk to the child’s parents.

Mia’s mother had fallen asleep against her husband’s arm. Leon, the child’s father, gently shook Janey awake before walking toward the consultation room to speak with the surgeon. Zachariah explained that the surgery went extremely well and that Mia would need to stay in the hospital for a few days. However, he told her parents that cancer could recur.

Over the course of three days, Zachariah kept close tabs on Mia until he gave the okay for the girl to go home. Janey and Leon made sure to make their daughter as comfortable as possible for the car ride home. Mia slept most of the way home.

A couple months later, Mia was learning on a regular basis, remembering the slightest things her parents taught her. Mia was running, laughing, and playing like any other child her age would. Her parents never worried about what would occur next until Mia fell sick again. This time was worse than the last and the child didn’t make it through the second neurosurgery.

Mia’s memory would live on in her mother’s heart and soul as it broke the woman’s fragile heart in two. Leon would forever remember his beloved daughter.

Zachariah felt that he had failed Mia’s family, and, more importantly, he failed himself. Mia was the youngest child he’d operated on and the only person he would ever operate on at such a young age with a long life ahead of them to avoid complications and recurrences in the future.

The Unwanted Love of a Loathed One

Being snowed into the lovely Marigold household was not what Adelia Hyacinth had anticipated for her stay in London. She had only just recently been befriended by the Marigold family, save for the eldest daughter, Jacquelynn, who was determined to see that Adelia left in the bitter cold storm. However, Jasper Coriander, Jacquelynn’s secret lover, was determined to get Adelia into his room at night to, as he claimed, keep warm. Adelia felt like the odd man out.

Adelia felt like everything she did only put her on Jacquelynn’s hit list, even when she thought Adelia was flirting with Jasper. Everything Adelia did was in attempt to become her friend. She sought to be friendly yet couldn’t get through to Jacquelynn. Her days were continuously getting longer, lonelier, and Jasper kept getting more flirtatious.

Adelia’s blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders as she made her way down the elegant staircase. Jasper and Jacquelynn were already in the rather large dining room, the two exchanging soft whispers of promised love, something Adelia had yet to discover. Jacquelynn’s straight, brunette hair had been combed back into a loose braid that was draped over her shoulder. As Adelia glanced outside the nearest window, she noted the snow was too deep to get into town for an escape.

“Ah! The young Hayward has arisen from her slumber!” Jasper’s gravelly voice called out from the table, gently waving her over to take the open seat to his left.

She slowly made her way over, placating herself across from the couple that was still locked in a semi-amorous embrace. “Good morning, Jasper, Jacquelynn,” Adelia nodded.

Jacquelynn made a noise of disgust before going back to burying her face in Jasper’s neck, giggling when the stubble on his chin would lightly scrape across her temple. The whole time he was showering Jaquelynn in attention, Jasper’s eyes scanned over Adelia’s face, neck, right down to her breasts and lingered until they made their way back up to gaze into her eyes. His eyes were a brilliant green, entrancing Adelia in a way she’d never expected to happen before this very moment. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath faltered and she was gasping. This made Jacquelynn glance up at her with hatred in her eyes.

As soon as one of the servants brought breakfast out, Adelia shot out of her chair, uncomfortable with the situation, and practically ran from the room. She was envious of what Jacquelynn had yet wanted no part in whatever Jasper had in mind. When she found herself alone, her breathing came in short gasps. Adelia’s mind was racing with everything she thought was going wrong until the next thing she knew was waking up in her bedroom.

Her head was pounding. “Who…? Why…?” she murmured, watching a female figure come out of the shadows.

“You stepped too close to him. He’s my everything, not yours, Hayward.” Jacquelynn’s eyes were orbs of pure hatred. Something shiny glinted in her hand.
“N-No! I wasn’t trying to steal him...I swear…!” she murmured. Adelia was scared for her life, watching as Jasper just then walked into the room, smirking at Adelia.

“Now, there’s a pretty sight for sore eyes. Adelia, how do you do it?” Jasper whispered, not noticing his lover in the shadows.

“I don’t try, you creep!” Adelia shouted at him.

“Aw, let’s not be that way, dearest. You know you want me.” His voice was dripping with lust as he leaned into her.

Before Adelia had any clue of what was happening, Jacquelynn had thrusted the knife she had into her lover’s back, tears glinting in her eyes. Everything that Jacquelynn knew fell apart in front of her and she threw Jasper’s dying form to the floor before gently taking Adelia into her arms. “I’m...I’m sorry for treating you so horribly. It wasn’t right of me…”

Adelia just held Jacquelynn and let her cry. The two stayed like that for the rest of the night, both women enjoying the company of the other.

The Forbidden Fight

Greece, 426 BCE

An angry shout ran through the room from the mouth of the king to his son, and the frightened Roman peasant boy. Nikolaos Vasilis, King of Greece, had thrown not one, but two heirloom vases that were nearby. His son, Alexander, rather known as Alec, stood there, a bit unfazed about this situation and ran his fingers through his hair. Alec was furious with his father and turned away with a heavy sigh.

“You’re going to risk the wrath of the gods to pursue a filthy relationship! It would be understandable if it were a woman, but no! You’ve gone against the morals of a royal family to try to marry another man. A man who is one of the enemy, a peasant, even! Are you out of your godforsaken mind, boy?” Nikolaos shouted at the young prince as the focus of the King’s fury hid behind him.

Alec gently patted his lover’s arm with a sigh. “Amnon Palaskas. That’s his name, Nikolaos. You think you know everything. You think that Delphina will be the best option in the world for me, but you and I both know that she’ll leave me just as Mother left you! Yes, this marriage with her will appease the gods, but Zeus will have a better chance with a woman such as her. I have no interest in women and do not wish to satisfy your need to appease the gods.” He turned to gently kiss his darling love’s cheek with a reassuring smile.

Nikolaos narrowed his eyes, staring at his son’s back almost as if they could throw daggers. Alec took Amnon’s hand and led him out of the throne room where young maids began to pick up the small clay pieces from the floor. Amnon’s body shook from his anxiety, and Alec could feel every beat of his poor lover’s heart. He heard every short exhale that he gave and began to wonder if he was okay. Slowly, but surely, Alec led his beautiful Roman boy to his sleeping chambers to help him calm down.

Amnon took a long gaze at the Greek and mumbled, “I love you, my prince.”

Alec smiled softly and placed a gentle kiss upon Amnon’s lips. The kiss was soft, passionate, at first, but the young prince’s hands aggressively gripped the other man’s waist and tugged him closer as Alec’s teeth grazed Amnon’s lip. Before either man could go any further, a gasp of shock sounded from the doorway. Delphina Bouras, the princess of Naxos, walked in to see her betrothed locking lips with a peasant boy. 

“Alexander Vasilis! How…how dare you disregard the gods with this unholy act?!” Delphina shouted at Alec in disappointment rather than anger.

With a heavy sigh falling from his lips, Alec left Amnon on his bed and stepped toward his supposed fiancée. He spoke in a calm, clear voice, “Delphina, you should’ve known that I had no intentions of marrying you, betrothed by arrangement or not. You, of all people, should know that Nikolaos will not give me the throne on his dying wish. You are more suited for a cousin of mine considering all my brothers have perished in the battle with Sparta.”

Delphina looked at Alec, a fierceness in her eyes that nobody in the royal advisory had seen before in a woman, and raised her hand to strike his cheek. When her hand came down, Amnon had stepped between the two of them and took the blow of Delphina’s hand.

“Angel!” Alec shouted before taking Delphina by the arm to remove her from his room.

“I didn’t see him! I was going for you! I swear I didn’t mean to hurt him, Alexander!” Delphina flailed around, trying to loosen the grip the prince had on her arm. She whimpered softly, feeling the imprints of his fingers bruise her supple, pale skin. 

Quickly, Alec tossed her into the front court of the palace, having walked the entire way there with her in his firm grasp. Soon after Delphina’s pleading with him, Alec turned to walk back to his chambers. What happened after was just a blur to the human eye. In the King’s hand was one of the royal swords that had always been used for decoration. Then, in a swift, upward motion, the sword was plunged into the Prince’s chest. The crimson stained steel blade protruded from his back before Nikolaos leaned into his son’s shoulder.

“You’re nothing but a disappointment to me, agóri. You are the very reason your mother left, she couldn’t bear to have such an unholy son be king, so she left. But you, you would’ve been the very bane of my entire existence, now I don’t have to deal with you. I can rule Greece for as long as I so wish with no heir to replace me. Imagine how sad your little to-” Nikolaos started to whisper before he was cut off by a loud, but frightened, cough from behind him.

Alec’s eyes sadly bore into Amnon’s. He murmured, “Angel… run,” before he collapsed to the floor in anguish. 

Quickly, as if to rid himself of the burden of the kill, Nikolaos pushed the young man off of his sword before turning to leave in a whirlwind of his long toga fluttering behind himself.

Amnon calmly walked to Alec’s side, sitting beside him with a teary eyed smile, and spoke calmly, “I’m not leaving your side, my prince. I’ll never leave your side.”

Alexander Vasilis smiled softly, reminiscing about the last days of his life. He met the love of his life, disappointed his father once more, and told an allied princess to keep out of his kingdom. The young prince let his last breath waltz across his lips, his glassy hazel eyes staring up into the cerulean ones of his angelic lover. While his fight was not one of honor, he had still fought to his very last breath in his war of love.

Lover's Brigade

A sergeant and a lieutenant had been crouched close together as the humid, Afghani air brushed the back of their necks. The thick sleeves of their sand-colored uniforms stuck to one another as one peered out over the barricade they had set up for their safety. The sergeant, who was identified as Smith across her stitched name tag, made a quiet, annoyed noise as she kept down to keep cover. After four seconds, she pulled her lieutenant down so as to prevent him getting shot. Her lieutenant, whose name tag declared him as Castiglione, turned toward her with a questioning glance.

“Castiglione, do you want to get shot?” Smith ground out harshly as she ripped her hand away from his arm.

“Oh, now why would I want to do that? You can’t get rid of me that easily, Eva,” Castiglione muttered with a small smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

“You’re asking for a death wish, man. Now, stay here, I’m goin’ down the line to scope out the area. I’ll signal you when it’s clear,” she said, the stern tone clearly indicating that she would likely turn back with deadly intent.

After his confirming nod, Eva kept her own head down and duck walked towards the end of the barricade they had set up in a hasty last minute of protection. With her M14 rifle held with the buttstock to her left shoulder, the sergeant leaned her head barely around the corner of the barricade. Seeing that the coast was clear, Eva motioned her partner closer. She didn’t move until her lieutenant was there behind her. After another moment of waiting, Eva took Castiglione’s arm and raced over to the half destroyed building from an earlier airstrike. 

As they both settled down behind the cover of the building, Castiglione gently gripped Eva’s hand. With a quick glance, she pulled her hand away from the lieutenant. She spoke just loud enough for him to hear, “Alessandro, we do not have time for this. As much as I enjoy your touch, we have to focus on the mission and not get shot.”

Rolling his eyes, Alessandro made a disconcerting noise and nudged her shoulder. “And yet, we’re still here. I’ve been shot a few times. So have you,” he commented gruffly before adding, “I lost my first wife, I’m not gonna lose you too.”

Instead of replying, Eva grabbed him by the arm again and dragged him towards the next building over, just barely getting missed by the sheet of rounds from a nearby enemy’s submachine gun. Cursing under her breath, Eva peered around the corner and fired her weapon twice, hitting her desired target in the chest. She then replied, “I ain’t got time to hear this speech again. To the roof, now.”

In a matter of two minutes, the two Marines made it to the door that was to lead out to the roof. With her fist held up to halt his movement, Eva edged ever so quietly towards the door and nudged it open with the muzzle of her rifle. Within seconds, there was heavy fire from the rooftop they were trying to enter and she slammed the door shut loudly, motioning for her partner to duck down. Both of them cursed under their breaths before Eva slowly nudged the door open again, opening fire upon those on the rooftop. Alessandro gently pushed her back before trying to shoot. The commanding officer grumbled and managed to crawl over her lieutenant to lay in a uniform stack and aimed her gun to the right slightly so that they could cover more line of sight.

After several minutes of gunfire, Eva pushed herself to the side and made a disgruntled sound. This sudden noise caused her partner to glance over and curse under his breath once he saw what he had never wanted to see. The woman that commanded him on a daily basis in their counter-terrorism unit laid sprawled out on the stairs beside him with her breathing slowing with each shallow breath. His eyes then scanned her quickly and he saw what he had intended to find. Upon the top of her left shoulder, there was a bullet hole. 

“Eva..? Eva, are you alright?” Alessandro asked frantically as he quickly flung his hands towards her shoulder to put pressure on the wound.

Eva only made a sound of pain as he tried to keep her from bleeding out. She didn’t speak as her jaw was clenched tighter than a noose on a dead man. Instead, she shook her head and brought her hand up to grab his loosely.

Her lieutenant rolled her to her right side in search for an exit wound anywhere on her back. She heard him curse loudly before he gently laid her back in her previous position. Her radio signalled quietly, “Foxtrot, this is Alpha One, do you copy? Over.” Then it signalled again, and again, and again, until Alessandro pulled her radio from her Kevlar vest.

Quietly, he spoke into the radio after pressing the button. He said, “Alpha One, this is Foxtrot, we have a commanding officer down. I repeat, a commanding officer down. Requesting an emergency airlift. Over.” 

Eva tried to listen, but her vision kept blurring in and out of darkness. She only heard bits and pieces of what Alessandro was saying over the radio and definitely could not hear what dispatch was saying back. She took one last glance over at her partner, her lover, before she saw him smile very weakly and say, “Everything will be alright, sunshine. You’ll get back home to your daughter. I promise. I love you.”

Those words are what she took into unconsciousness. She was surrounded by unconditional love then. She didn’t feel cold or alone; Eva Smith felt loved and warm.

◼️◼️◼️

Tears misted Alessandro’s eyes as he stood at the small podium. He hadn’t been expected to be the one standing before all these people like this. The lieutenant took a shaky breath as he stared at the wood grain on the podium. He then looked upon each face in the front row, his eyes then settling on one person in particular. Camila Smith. The child was only six and had to endure something as difficult as this.

When he finally looked away from the exasperated child, Alessandro spoke slowly and said, “I didn’t intend to be the one standing up here today to give this speech. Sergeant Eva Smith was an outstanding woman, mother, and fighter. She’s saved my life more than once and, by God, it’s hard to see this happen. My love, my heart, my angel. I am so sorry to see you go as this but you can finally run with your boys again.”

As he stepped away and turned one last time to glance at the woman he loved laying inside the casket, Alessandro collapsed to his knees then and let out a sob so loud that it scared Camila. The young girl, armed with wide arms and tears dripping from her cheeks, wrapped her arms around the man she considered her father. The two sat there, Alessandro folded slightly over the girl he called his daughter now and they cried together as Eva’s casket sat open behind them, letting the entire funeral home see her peaceful, pale profile and the collar of her yellow collared blouse.

Just two hours later, Eva was laid to rest and awarded with a headstone that read, “Outstanding mother, leader, and lover. Evangeline Smith, June 17, 1975 - July 8, 2011.”