Writing Knights Press

The Best Time to Write is Now... The Best Place to Write is Here... The Best Person to Write is You...

2017/08/23

Writing Knights @Better Block -- September 9th, 2017



As part of the Warehouse District Better Block event, Writing Knights will bring 12 poets to the auxiliary room of Deli Ohio.

1pm: Skylark Bruce: Progressive Christian, Spanish-Speaking, vegan, journalism background, employed in finance
1:10pm: And(y)i Line: unicorns, family, love, LGBT, Islam, America, HP, Love, poetry, idealism, narnia
1:20pm: John Walters: Poetry is my pleasure. It calms me down.
1:30pm: Kristin Werstler: Short, honest poems that focus on death, origin, and identity.
1:40pm: Derrick Terrill: Urban poetry at its best.
1:50pm: Zachary Lee: Soul with a body. Son of stars. Artist, writer, poet.
2pm: Nikann Charney... is a poetress of her own kind.
2:10pm: Ianthe... tells us about matters of her heart and mind.
2:20pm: Keely Aaliyah: poetry, feminism, books, coffee, happiness & self love
2:30pm: Daria Quinn: Comic Noir as Interpretive Speech and other stranger things
2:40pm: Arianna Iliff: An unrelenting wordsmith with theatrical style.
2:50pm: Azriel Johnson: Herder of Poets. Anti-Villain. Inspiration initiator.

with Improvised Flute by Don Fulmer

There will be books outside as part of the Better Block event. The event itself is free, but please bring some $$ and help us support the poets!

PG-13

2017/08/22

Take the Knight Off -- September 8th, 2017




Take the Knight off and experience poetry with us!
Bring a pen(cil) and something to write with and jot down lines and build on that. Bring a brush and some canvas. Whatever you want. However you want to express yourself, let our features inspire you!
 
Introducing:
Daria Quinn: Comic Noir as Interpretive Speech and other stranger things
Molly Fuller: writes "feminist-fabulist" prose poems and flash fictions.
Epa440: Painesville Folk Rock. Politics. Life. Space. Inner Truth all seek.

Sugg. Donation: $5 (no one will be turned away)
Unmoderated Open Mic After the Features (2 min per person)
Bring $$ for Books & Art also Free Books Bin!

In the mean time, Take the Day Off with our sponsors: (print off the flyer in the photo section of this event or pick up a flyer at any of these locations or Writing Knights Gallery at Avenue Arts Marketplace and Theatre)
@The Local (linked above) -- Our Venue
Cultured Coffee & Waffles - 1 Free Large Coffee, also BUY WAFFLES!
Crooked River Alliance of TimeBanks Members can get 3 Time Credits for attending!
Jen Pezzo Photography - Anyone who calls mentioning Writing Knights will get $25 OFF a photoshoot.

2017/08/12

Lawbreaker - Chapter 5 (1,027 Words)

    Peter grunted and pulled the syringe out of his leg and sat back.  Justin, his client looked at his social worker and grunted back.  “It’s what you get for....”  His speech dropped off and he realized what he’d done.
    “Oh, shit.  I’m sorry, Pete.  I just woke and you were there.  I thought you were... shit.  What can I do?”
    Peter pulled his phone from his pocket and called his office.  A brief explanation of what happened ensued and Peter stood, limping, sort of.  “Dammit, Justin.  I can’t believe you would do something like that.  You’re positive for gods sake.”
    Justin pulled his legs to his chest and rocked back and forth with no response.
    “Dammit,” Peter said under his breath again as he walked to the exit of the hollowed out building.  He made his way out of the complex through the fence and flagged down the ambulance that approached.
    The ambulance slowed down and Peter collapsed.
    He awoke in the hospital.  He wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been.  He inhaled, tugged at his blanket and tugged up his gown.  He saw a huge blue bruise at the injection point.  He breathed out and laid back.
    The nurse entered his room.  “You’re awake I see.”  She checked his temperature and blood pressure.
    “How long has it been?  What exactly is going on with me?” Peter said.
    “The doctor will be in with you in a moment.”
    When the doctor arrived, Peter asked, “So what’s going on?”
    “The paramedics got you here quickly, but as you were unconscious we didn’t know exactly what was wrong with you.”
    “How long has it been?” Peter asked.
    “About 72 hours,” the doctor said.
    “So no one started PEP?  Someone from my office should have told the ambulance I was exposed to HIV.”
    “No,” the doctor said.  “Nurse, we need an HIV test, Truvada and Raltegravir.”
    The nurse rushed out of the room.  The doctor said to Peter, “Peter, you’re familiar with PEP so you know we’re going to start you on a regimen daily for the next four weeks.  This combination is highly effective, but it isn’t 100% effective, especially this long after exposure.”
    The first test was negative.
    Four weeks later, the test was negative.  Peter thought he was in the clear.
    Three months went by.  Another test.  Negative.  Things looked brighter.  Peter worked as normal.  He hung out with his niece during her ordeal in the hospital.  They both had their mental and emotional trials.
    The six month mark, the moment of truth.  If Peter was clear this time, he was likely in the clear for good.
    The blood draw was relatively painless, aside from the prick at the beginning.  Peter watched the purplish-red blood drain into three tubes.  Peter smiled at the nurse taking his blood.  He felt an itch.
    He turned his face and sneezed.
 
~ * ~

     Justin followed the greyish-beige man through a doorway to a wide expansive room.  Standing in the center, a man pointed to different window trimmings.  He ordered people to do different things around the room and using various abilities including telekinesis, the room moved and changed to suit the whims of the man.
    “Sir,” the greyish-beige man said.  “I’ve brought him.”
    “Thank you, Nix,” the man said.  “Stay close, but not too close.”
    Nix, the greyish-beige man nodded and stepped back.
    “My name is Enos,” the leader said to Justin.
    “Why should I care?” Justin said.
    “Because, if I wanted to I could have had you killed.”
    “How do you figure?”
    “Hrm,” Enos stopped.  He moved completely into Justin’s personal space.
    Justin stepped back.  “Hey man, that’s too close.”
    Enos stepped forward again.  “Makes you uncomfortable, eh?”
    Justin stepped back again.  “No, I just don’t want to have to hurt you.”
    “Hrm,” Enos said again.  “You don’t even understand your power yet, do you?”
    Justin said, “I can hold things down or make them raise.  Seems pretty simple.”
    Enos sniffed.  “Try it on me.”
    Justin put a hand on Enos and concentrated.  He felt the power move through him, but nothing happened.  Enos swung his right hand up and around and chopped down on Justin’s arm.  In the same motion, his left hand struck Justin in the center of his chest, knocking him 10 feet away and onto his back.
    Justin extended his hand at Enos and nothing happened.  “What the hell?”
    Enos took two steps toward Justin and offering his hand to pull him up, revealing a bracelet.  Justin took Enos’ hand and grunted.  “You’re blocking my power somehow.”
    Enos smiled.  “You’re learning.  But enough about me.  You need to learn about yourself.  I can help you, but you’ve got to be willing to reign yourself in.”
    “Why should I listen to you?”
    “Because I know a thousand ways to kill you right now with just my bare hands, let alone the multitudes here who would have no problem ripping you apart mentally or physically.  I’ve been alive a long time.  I’ve learned many things and made many loyal allies.  I am willing to include you in that ally-ship, or kill you.  Makes no difference to me, but I see potential in your abilities if you are willing to control them.  If not, then there is no use for you.”
    Justin took Enos’ hand and Enos pulled Justin to his feet.  Enos turned to Nix.  “You can resume your search, bring me back any potentials as you recover them.  This was a good find, thank you.”
    Nix bowed and turned away.
    Justin said, “I, have a question....”
    Enos nodded.  “Ask.”
    “What if I can’t control it?”
    “You’re new to the power, is that correct?”
    “Yes.  I was just injected yesterday.”
    “Remarkable, I haven’t seen any injectors gain their powers so quickly, though I suppose with your particular power it makes sense.”
    “If my power isn’t holding things down or raising them up, what is it?  Do you know?”
    Enos smiled.  “Of course I know.  But I ascribe to the philosophy, give a man a fish you feed him for a day, teach a man to fish, you feed him for his life.  Then he owes that life to you.”

2017/08/11

Take the Knight Off - August 11, 2017 *Raw Footage*

 


We had a great night of poetry in store for everyone.  Poets from all over Ohio converged on "The Local" 

First Up, local poetry scene hero Derrick Terrill (turn up your audio)

Next up, ending his cross country tour with a spot on the Writing Knights Stage: John Burroughs!
(normalize your audio)

After a multi-year absence, Alicia Young returned to the Writing Knights Press Stage!
(Two parts because I can sometimes be inept)

The greater multitude of Alicia's set, following her around the stage, as I probably should have done Words


Thanks for watching and we hope you check out other videos on our YouTube and on our site.  Also don't forget to check out  
(we should be livestreaming, but we'd love to have you in for the show itself)

Don't forget

2017/08/09

Lawbreaker - Chapter 4 (1,061 Words)



            Peter didn’t take it personally.  “You’re a failure as an uncle” was not delivered with malice.  He could tell she was only barely containing her excitement.  He understood her reluctance to show appreciation.  She was 13, it was to be expected.  He also understood her agitation concerning her powers, or lack thereof.

            Peter’s former job as a drug counselor brought him into many dangerous situations.  He was never a large man, so at first, none of the people he worked with showed him respect.  This changed in the addicts that wanted to change, but in others it just inspired anger.

            He was at a home visit... well okay home was stretching it... one of his clients asked him to meet off the beaten track where a lot of homeless folks stayed.  It was a large, abandoned factory at the edge of town, before Peter moved to Civitas.

            A good thing about Civitas was there were no large, abandoned factories.

            He knew it was a bad idea, especially when you have to climb a wood pile and go through a chain-link fence to even get into the complex, but sometimes you have to meet someone where they are.  He did not forget to let the office know where he was going and when to expect him back and if he didn’t answer his cell phone in an hour to come get him.

            The factory itself was expansive.  The creep factor was low, but risk for tetanus was high, but Peter wasn’t worried about accidentally cutting himself on anything.

            He walked around quietly.  The expanse seemed mostly uninhabited.  Generally, he figured the homeless folks who lived here were out begging or otherwise occupying their time around the town.  Some were hopefully trying to find jobs or scraps of food or maybe shoplifting from the local thrift store.  Anything was preferable to the potentiality of wrapping themselves in drugs.

            He found his client passed out on a dirty, patchwork blanket on a wooden platform in an upper level of the factory.  A needle stuck out of his arm with a tourniquet released and left Peter pulled out a bottle of water from his knapsack and put a bit of water on his hand to put on the client’s face.  To rouse him.

            “C’mon, buddy, snap out of it,” Peter said.

            Peter pulled the Narcan out of his knapsack.  He peeled back the package, put the device under the client’s nose.  He inhaled, then pressed the plunger up and into the client’s nose.  Peter sat back and breathed out, trying to relax.  He pulled the syringe out of the client’s arm and put it to the side.  He crouched next to the client, waiting for them to snap out of the high.

            The client shook his head and his eyes opened.  He blinked rapidly for a few moments, then looked at Peter.  Anger crossed his face.  “What the shit.  You sonofabitch.”  The client’s head turned to the side and saw his syringe.  He grabbed it and jammed it into Peter’s inner thigh.  “That’s what you get for waking me up.”

            Peter sat backwards with the syringe in his leg.  There were no drugs, but he remembered earlier visits with his client and knew his ‘positive status.’

            Peter inhaled.  “What the hell, Justin?”



~ * ~



            The three police officer’s had powers and tried to use them.  The first cop, a thin, white man extended his hand and electricity flew towards Justin.  He raised his hand and the electricity entered his body.  His nerves did not react the way someone normally would, by contracting and falling over.  Instead, Justin absorbed the energy and it focused at his heart.  His eyes immediately struck red with the vessels bulging.  He ran at the first cop and punched him in the chest, lifting him off of the ground and into a teller window.  He lost consciousness as his head smacked off of a desk behind the divider.

            The crowd in the job office ran from the scene, screaming.  In the confusion, Justin moved towards the other two officers without them attacking, for fear of hitting some of the bystanders.

            The second officer, a black woman inhaled and breathed icy exhalation at Justin.  Instead of freezing in place as intended, Justin gathered the cold breath around his left fist and backhanded the officer.  She flew backward over a table, into a computer and onto the floor.  She didn’t move.

            The third officer, extended both arms out and down, away from his body and was surrounded in fire.  He must have had a specialized suit because it did not burn off of him.  He ran at Justin with both hands extended.

            The fire hands clasped Justin’s shoulders.  Justin expected pain, but it was as if the energy from the fire was just being flung off into space, displaced or maybe... destroyed.  Justin looked into the blackened eyelets of the police inferno.  He concentrated and the fire extinguished over the cop.  The cop fell to his knees and looked up plaintively at Justin.

            “Is murder against the law?” Justin asked the cop.

            The cop blinked.  “Yes.”

            Justin held up his right hand, covered in flames, as if created from nowhere.

            A greyish-beige hand caught his arm and the flame extinguished.

            Justin followed the hand that held his arm and grunted.  “Who are you?”

            “Someone stopping you from doing something stupid.”

            “What are you talking about?  I’m just here for a job.”

            “What job is that?  Murdering innocent police officers?”

            “Police are hardly innocent.”

            “These officers are.  They were all tops in their class.  They regularly engage in public outreach and help the homeless find work.”

            “What do I care?  They attacked me.”

            The greyish-beige person pulled Justin away from the defeated police officer.  “You are not in a position to not care, because the more problems you cause, the more likely you’ll attract the wrong kind of attention.  I can kill you now, or you can come with me and we can help you get a handle on these abilities you have.”

            “What makes you think I need a handle on my abilities?  I have them under control!”

            “No,” the condescendingly calm voice said.  “I have control over them.  You were about to murder someone with no reason.”

            “Oh.”  Justin breathed out as if snapping into sudden realization.  “Oh, shit.  Okay, take me with you.”