ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW MY WORKS! ------------------------------------------------- T J Rintoull, born 1983, currently residing on the Gold Coast in Australia, grew up in a combination of city housing, winnebago travelling and bush shacks, before entering the worlds of music, art and literature. Told often that he should have attended university to better himself, instead he devotes his time to working dead end jobs in order to pay the bills, and his spare time to creating music and literature. He confesses that although he loves to paint he has no ability with a brush whatsoever. Currently T J Rintoull resides with his fiance in a small flat, as he continues to attempt a measure of success with his band and his writing. _________________________________________________ PLEASE READ AND REVIEW MY WORKS! [May 2006]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (43) A Better Friend (Poetry) Poem for solitude and loneliness. [94 words] [Motivational] A Haiku (Poetry) A Haiku [8 words] [Mind] A Name Will Come (Songs) The first of many song lyrics to be included here - this written for the world today, for things we've lost, faith in ourselves and many other things - this is the title song of my band. [218 words] [Spiritual] A Simple Hope (Poetry) A short poem I wrote while at work. [57 words] [Motivational] A Sudden Burst Of Sunshine (Short Stories) Arty awakens on a farm with amnesia and is forced over a single day to come to grips with his former life. [7,122 words] [Popular Fiction] Bald (Poetry) A complaint against nature and pattern baldness. [132 words] [Nature] Bathroom Memorial (Short Stories) A rare moment of reverse joy in the life of a depressive semi-suicidal. [744 words] [Mind] Brothers And Sisters (Songs) I was told, "good people don't like you" This was the result. [128 words] [Relationships] California Gothic (Poetry) This poem is simultaneously a blighted personal love poem and one big metaphor for an attack on modern society. [155 words] [Motivational] Cliches Are Still Feelings (Poetry) The entire poem is one big cliche nowadays, or so I'm told. Is it still relevant? Is it thematic plagiarism? You be the judge. [90 words] [Romance] Downtime (Poetry) Lyrics to a song, written for my band. [164 words] [Motivational] Epistle To Faeries Past (Short Stories) A letter to a ghost of the past. [814 words] [Drama] Fire Fright (Poetry) Read the poem please. [172 words] [Mind] Goin Pro (Songs) Sarcasm, metaphor, this song is all of these things and more. Unless of course you're going pro... [63 words] [Erotic] In Dreams (Poetry) Poem written at work, for nothing more than disillusioned ambition. [69 words] [Motivational] Left (Poetry) It's not really a poem about breakups, although initially it would seems so. It's about more than that - interpersonal relationships falling apart, as well as a minor metaphor for the world at large. [152 words] [Relationships] Moments To Remember (Short Stories) The first and last moments of true love... [683 words] [Romance] New Year's Day (Poetry) This was written on the morning of the new year. [105 words] [Mind] One Small Step At A Time (Short Stories) A glass-half empty kind of guy named Allan makes a big triumph in a small tragedy. [494 words] [Psychology] Poem For Poet's Sake (Poetry) A poem about the poet - striking out westward in search of something new. [99 words] [Mind] Poem - Reasons (Poetry) Lyrics for a song. [179 words] [Mind] Poena Acer (Poetry) Short Lyric Poem. [27 words] [Mind] Poena Aetas (Poetry) As always, sophomore description of heartache and pain, this time expressed as a tattoo. [83 words] [Mind] Poena Affectus (Poetry) Small collection of lyrics and poems, (also lyric poems) - many of these are untitled. [1,142 words] [Mind] Poena Convoco (Poetry) Another metaphoric, or perhaps not so metaphoric attack on the modern world - but as always I seem to constrict its purity with personal memories. [120 words] [Business] Poena Defendo (Poetry) Poem written while attending a carnival/field day in the heart of country pig hunting territory; these words were inspired by some of the people and imagery at the functions I attended. [77 words] [Animal] Poena Flumen (Poetry) Of Rivers and Flowers and Life And Love and Pain. [87 words] [Spiritual] Poena Labo (Poetry) On friends liars and life. [91 words] [Relationships] Poena Speculum (Poetry) For the wanderer and watcher. [52 words] Poena Termes (Poetry) A tree falling. A teardrop landing. [21 words] [Nature] Poena Texo (Poetry) Second Collection Of Short Poems On The General Subject Of Pain - dealing with inner and outer turmoil, conflict and heartache. Deep. [364 words] Poeta Postulo (Poetry) The poet's question of his feminist muse. [226 words] Shopping (Short Stories) She went shopping - he was left home alone... [501 words] [Relationships] Sleep Insane (Poetry) Continuation of California Gothic, but from a different mind, view, philosophy and life. [83 words] [Mind] The Evening Red (Poetry) Do you drink....wine? [46 words] [Health] The Golden Man (Poetry) Originally I thought to make this a story - but I thought it better as a short poem. [96 words] [Spiritual] The Great Procrastination (Poetry) Self explanatory, really. [121 words] [Mind] The Office (Poetry) I couldn't work out if this was a micro-short or a prose poem. The way it's written it's a short story, but I think there's too much rhyme, and it's a bit too short. Anyway, here it is for your pleasu... [474 words] [Mind] This Marble Reflection (Poetry) Surrealism - in prose. [118 words] Toad (Poetry) Poem - about a toad. [50 words] Upon Waking (Poetry) Upon waking, this short lyric poem came to me. [60 words] [Psychology] Wamphyrri (Poetry) Romantic sense of the vampire. [177 words] [Horror] You Said.... (Poetry) Short freeform poem descriptive of the deserted wounded lover. [59 words] [Drama]
Out Of Ink, Out Of Time T J Rintoull
It didn't make sense for him to complete work during work time. There was too much else to do. The fact of the matter was, life wasn't about to turn out any easier than fate had planned it, and ipso facto his workload wasn't about to get any lighter. The question remained, biting at the nape of his neck in the form of a completely unrelated tattoo, what was he doing at his desk in the first place?
It occurred to him he had another personal email to respond to, when the telephone rang, loud and piercing, another customer shrieking that their promotional pens hadn't been delivered. In response he put down the receiver and picked up a pen, and began to write furiously to his brother waiting in a prison ward.
About seven minutes later, the phone line was open again, and his letter was completed. He stared at it with considerable mistrust, before coming to the sensible conclusion that typing the letter was a much better idea - his brother had never liked his handwriting anyway.
The in-tray was filling at a rapid pace, reminding him of a world of worry waiting in the wings right outside his office door. A fire had started out there the morning before, and he had no idea when or how that might happen again, or even if such an event was likely to occur.
It didn't matter in the first instance however - more important was the impending doubt with which his gaze focused on the pen used previously to write a letter to his interned sibling. This pen was not a friend, running low on ink long before it's time.
Cursing the poor state of affairs in his office, he began the lifelong task of ruminating on the source of ink, and subsequently, the source of all life, the meaning of life, and the exact time of day during which he would consume the last quarter of his already-eaten packed lunch.
In a further display of prudence and sensibility, he decided to put off eating the half of a half-sandwich until further notice, or at least until he was hungrier than the present moment.
Satisfied with his daily decision-making prowess, he answered another personal email, noting there would be plenty of overtime today.
Thirty seconds later, a double-decker London bus, inexplicably transported from its usual route by an as-yet undiscovered accident within the rules of quantum metaphysics, smashed through the west wall of his office, destroying everything in it's faster-than-usual path, and in so doing scaring all the elderly still seated within its metal walls; not to mention everyone else on the bus as well. He looked up just in time to see the bus bearing down on him, and curse the continued state of disrepair this would soon cause within his office.
His last thoughts were of pain and regret - and hunger, because he never managed to finish that sandwich. He also wondered that the driver of the bus had chosen to enter via the west wall, when clearly the east was a more efficient option.
Following his death, the bus was never seen or heard from again, and according to some sources remains to this day on an obscure most wanted list of stray and angry buses passed yearly to a series of superheroes unworthy of commercial comic book appeal.
Official media sources claimed the office had been attacked by terrorists, and managed several ineffective but believeable links between the dead office worker and a well-known terrorist organisation.
Following this and a few sporadic news articles, the incident was never mentioned again, except by a few unknown intergalactic superheroes, passing stories around the quantum campfire about a killer bus that must one day be stopped, once and for all.
The pen in question remains out of ink.
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