ReroutedAnother seventy-two characters, another seventy-two grand. Each and every keystroke only lead the conductor of cybernetic calamity towards greater archives of digital riches and rewards. Tap-tap-tap and up went an idle copy of a firewall’s coding, a program completely identical to the original, but with so many more wounds to open. A simple six-digit code and one could take an electric vacuum to the account and drag away every cent they could find. Just a single perk that came with the ever-rewarding occupation of cyber-smuggler.Rerouted by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
And today? Today had been an absolutely prodigious day for cyber-smuggling. Late Saturday had arrived early, coming ‘round the clock at a record time of 4:45. By the time the global alarms went off, every man-operated cyber-surveillance system had been dropped in favor of the raising of glasses and the imbibing of the night. Entire ethereal warehouses of nothing but bank accounts, shipping routes, shareholder stocks and top-secret information block
Young JanuaryI saw her at the local supermarketYoung January by Rifle1980
She could have been no older than ten
She was buying some refreshing beverages
To quench the thirst of herself and her friends
On this summers day they had waited outside
Lacking patience they were shouting her name
‘January, hurry up we have to go home!’
From the shop young January soon came
Rushing past me at the speed of her childhood
My lonely heart skipped a beat or two
Either from her soft brown hair that touched my arm
Or the smile she gave as she passed through
Did I hurry through my shopping on purpose
In order to catch young January up?
Fumbling my loose change as I left the store
The cashier complained I’d given her too much
I feel everyone’s eyes boring in to me
So away from the store I swiftly fled
Knowing fine well that I should just return home
But something made me follow the girl instead
Pretending to read the receipt in my hand
I watched closely in the corner of my eye
Which way would young January be walking
The Alverdale Tangle - Act 1. Chpt - 1Laying Down The LawThe Alverdale Tangle - Act 1. Chpt - 1 by Sleyf
Robert Blake's tranquil solitude is shattered by the invasion of his sister— and she comes bearing a most displeasing of ultimatums.
The sombre and musty rooms of Greyvale Hall failed to swallow or muffle the shrill tones of Maris Barnham as she shrieked her daily disgruntlements. The afore-mentioned Mr. Robert Blake reclined in his lounge chair, the lengthy columns of that morning's unread news occupying his full attention. He often took to the library simply to avoid his sister's reprimands, and since returning to the ancestral home after his years away as a practising barrister, the untouched volumes of literary knowledge housed upon those shelves had been his silent, unread, companions.
Mister Robert Blake was content to have it remain thus, for silent company was by far the best, in his far from
Bulimia NervosaDoes mother notice my visits to the bathroomBulimia Nervosa by Rifle1980
Have become more frequent of late?
And how they always seem to be after meal times
When with my parents I’ve just ate
Does she stand in the hall outside the bathroom
With her ear pressed against the door?
Wondering why the tap is running so fast
And what I’ve flushed the toilet twice for
Has she seen all of the empty sweet wrappers
Hidden under my bed when she cleans?
Does she fully understand the significance
Of what this behaviour actually means?
Is purge even a word in her vocabulary
To which she’s able to define?
Does she believe my words or my sunken eyes
When I insist to her that I am fine?
Does father notice that I spend many hours
In front of our full length mirror?
Intensely staring at my pathetic reflection
Yet the image never becomes clearer
I see something different to what he can see
A distortion of his little girl
Whose control over this food and this eating
Is the only control she has in this world
Has he tri
The Journey of SongHow do I sing? Myself and others haveThe Journey of Song by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
Demanded a harmony to the melody;
An answer to a question. Perhaps I may
Before I begin, the song must precede me.
Sometimes it rocks my arms, legs and chest
In tune with velvet swells or gently raises me
In the symphony's opening
From there the storm begins.
Fire burns with golden fury.
Silvery raindrops fall from an ashen overcast,
Exploding at the sound of black thunder and the flash
Of white lightning. Magnificence strikes the stage!
I howl with the wind.
Rage serenity, beauty, madness.
Stardust, moonlight, firestorms, blizzards.
I take all of them and call upon their power.
One by one, they energize, flaring and bursting
With the zenith of the sun.
Empyrya, Inferno, Asphodel and beyond.
Traveling across the planes, I continue my ascension.
I race the melody,
Meeting its challenge as I
Loop, whirl, spiral and spin
Into the trance that enraptures me.
I cannot break from it. It is not my desire to.
The melody, however, begi