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Paul John Lyon

@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social

Tall tale teller. https://pauljohnlyon.com

1060 Posts1280 Follower251 Folgt
Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 8h ago

In a cell, a man could at least hear the rush of a the wind through the bars. The jeers of other prisoners, and sometimes, sobbing. On the moon there was nothing to hear, and no creature to make a sound. No seasons. Each night and day two weeks of nothing. ~ In the Silver of the Moon #writing

Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 8h ago

A neck snapped in seconds, minutes if the rope was tied just so. Electric, gas, and needle also, all too fast a fate the men had argued. The punishment had to last, and the punished would have to feel every second. ~ In the Silver of the Moon #writing

Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 8h ago

Men had long ago untied the noose and disconnected the current from the chairs. Too barbaric, some had argued. But others, those who rose in a new dark age, thought them too quick a punishment. Too forgiving. ~ In the Silver of the Moon #writing

Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 9h ago

No life or life alone, was what he'd heard, but not the words they'd said. To dwindle on the thin edge of the moon his punishment, with only memories for company. And there, the Earth, a single blue eye in the endless black, watching him slowly die. ~ In the Silver of the Moon #writing

Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 11h ago

Over the years, Apple has turned from a rebellious, creative computer company into what is basically a cult that worships a bland technology God whose only miracle is to slightly upgrade phones on a yearly basis and still have people buy them.

Tim Cook of Apple outside a blurred image of the Cupertino HQ, smiling like a serial killer asked about what's in his basement.
Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 17h ago

I'm useless, he thought. A half man. No, a quarter man. He held up his arm and stared at the empty space where a hand used to be with the one good eye that remained. He felt it. A phantom haunting muscle and memory. ~ The Sound of One Hand Clapping #writing

Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 19h ago

Past the pastors selling salvation, and the real-estate agents in their red jackets promising everyone an Eden of their own, a new billboard rose up. A stark white rectangle with black lettering at its center: DO YOU REMEMBER HER, MARTIN? #writing

Paul John Lyon@pauljohnlyon.bsky.social · 20h ago

Every few hundred feet, a bilboard promised God would save you. And how would he manage this feat? Simple. All you had to do was give the man on the billboard, with his tanned face and Hollywood teeth, all your money. Salvation had a dollar amount. #writing