Props to http://writemonkey.com/  and their typewriter noise for helping me find my ideal writing spot.

The first day.

He woke up to the smell of smoke.  A thick black cloud snaked through the slit in his window and settled onto the floor.  Robert sat up and looked out the window.  He followed the smoke until it fattened and disappeared into a distant building.  The butcher.

“Dammit,” Robert muttered; the old man had forgotten to take the meat off again; a lot of meat, by the looks of it.  He hoped out of bed and slid into his slippers.  Pulling on his coat, he took another look at the smoke from the butcher’s house and walked out the door.

He began to hear the crackle of fire as he approached the butcher’s shop, and his pace quickened.  ”Old man?”  He shouted, to no response.  ”Old man?”  He began running, the sound of the fire crackling and spatting louder with every step he took.  Smoke had blocked any view through the window, and he felt the heat radiating outwards.  He grabbed the doorknob and let go with a yell; the metal knob was searing hot.

Robert backed up and rammed his body against the door.  It shuddered in its frame, but did not budge.  He hurried to the window and smashed his elbow into the glass.  Smoke spilled out before all the glass had hit the ground.  Coughing through the ash, Robert sputtered out “Old man!”.  No response.  Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Robert held his shirt up to his face and stepped into the sweltering heat of the house.

His eyes watered as he navigated half-blind over the ceramic tiles of the old man’s stop.  His slippers, now covered in soot, stepped into the fallen coat rack, blackened and split in two.  Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes and washing out the ash.  Blinking out the droplets, Robert kept moving, stepping over the coatrack and making his way to the counter.  The meat languished behind the glass display, pristine and undisturbed amidst the burning butchery.  Keeping his hands off the metal frame, Robert navigated around the counters, the world around him growing hotter by the second.  He found the door to the backroom and kicked it open.  He raised his arms and stepped back as he was blasted with a massive wave of heat.  Willing himself to open his eyes, he looked in and saw the old oven, burning heavy and fierce.

And the bloodied hand of the butcher hanging out of it.

I was feeling more than a little bit down when I wrote this; but then again, emotions are the best inspiration.

Pacify me.
Hide everything.
Wrap me in the madman’s clothes.
Toss me in the rubber room.
Let me release.
 
Save me.
Send an angel with a clipboard in one hand and a syringe in the other.
Inject me.
Fill me with something to
Let me sleep for once.

Hold me.
Tell me I’ll be fine.
Tell me everything will be fine.
Tell me it will all be better
In the morning.

Lie to me.
Make me believe you when you say I’m fine.
Make me believe you when you say everything’s fine.
Make me believe it will all be better
But don’t tell me.

Hurt me.
Justify my emotions.
Justify my frustration.
Justify me to
Justify anger.

Leave me.
Drop me off in the rain.
Speed away into the distance.
I like it here
Away from others.

Fuck me.
Show me something to look forward to.
Something I can care for.
Something I can take with me
And run from this place.

Blind me.
Mute my tongue.
Deaf my ears.
Burn my nerves
And coma my thoughts.

Forget me
Throw me into a dark crevice.
Throw the covers over me.
And maybe I’ll
Forget too.

it was a dark and horny night

god she tells such terrible jokes

the sheets wrap around us like snakewaves tumbling over and under she peers out at me from behind clouds i want to whisper to her but the rustle of her feet on the sheets steals away my voice hands brush across my hair sink into my scalp smooth like ivory snow chills skittering down my spine i reach out and grasp her hold her soft in my arms whispering words i dont deserve to hear but singing them anyway like wind through the grass i want to sink into her she is my everything

i would siege castles for her sight

i would slay beasts for the touch of her hand

unspoken words from faroff languages hover between us eternally said i breathe her in and i want to cry she is so beautiful light drinks through her throat and bursts from her wrapping around her like arms of the father eyes closed warm spreading out and drowning me

and stop

no sound is made

no sight pierces through the black

but she is there

entangled like vines tearsweat she is so beautiful

angelbreath cascading down my shoulders she is so beautiful

brush flowerlips against my skin she is so beautiful

fingertwine across our chest she is so beautiful

she is my everything

If you used echolocation, and one of your ears wasn’t working, would you have no depth perception?

Derrick and Angela

Derrick blinked; he wasn’t at school anymore.

His feet touched bare soil; he wasn’t wearing clothes either.

The full moon shone overhead, bathing the golden stalks of grain ahead in white light, as though they were covered with snow.

“Derrick Lauder”

The wooden surface of his desk stared at him. He lifted his head “What?”

“Derrick, I know it’s your last day of school,” His teacher said “But if you want to nod off in class, you have to bribe me beforehand.”

“Sorry.” He looked across the aisle at Angela, who smiled at him. He smiled back and leaned his head back onto his desk; it’s not like they could give him any detention. Besides, he needed energy for tonight.

The bell rang just as he was beginning to nod off. The teacher handed him a demerit and Derrick pocketed it. He followed Angela’s hair as it swished down the hallway.

A voice, he heard a voice coming from deep within the grain field. He pushed aside the stalks and moved through the field. The stalks around him seemed to grow taller the deeper he went in. He could have sworn they were around three feet high when he started. Or at least, not taller than him.

He pushed aside another collection of stalks to reveal a circle of dark soil surrounded by walls of grain. And a beautiful woman lie in the middle of it.

“Derrick?”

Angela looked at him with concern, “Are you alright?”

Derrick rubbed the sleep out of his eyes “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired.”

“Well try not to be too tired. You need energy for tonight.”

He smirked, “I’ll try.”

She returned the smirk and walked away. When she was gone, Derrick turned and opened his locker, then leaned his head against it. Who was that woman in the field? He closed his eyes; he could still see her long black hair shining in the moonlight.

He opened his eyes and she lay before him in the dark soil, a hand raised, beckoning him.

His feet numbly stepped forward, before stumbling halfway and bringing him to his knees. The woman stood up, her long black hair wrapping around her body like a shawl. She slowly walked around him, her fingers tracing the length of his shoulders. She crouched down, holding his face in her hands, looking into his eyes with her own dark ones. Pulling him forward, her lips wrapped around his own.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, Derrick’s arms lifted and entangled themselves in her body, pulling her to the ground. His heart pumping, he brought his hands to her hips, and their legs intertwined. As his blood rushed through their bodies, she cried out in orgasm.

And her abdomen burst open.

Angela jogged through the almost-empty hallways looking for Derrick. Where was he? He couldn’t have left yet; his car was still here. But she’d looked everywhere!

Angela sighed. She supposed she’d have to wait until she saw him tonight.

Then she smiled; if she wasn’t going to wait for him, she may as well return his car keys.

She walked over to his locker, keys twirling around her fingers. She grabbed the lock and turned out the combination. The lock gave way and she opened the locker door.

Revealing the half-eaten body of Derrick smiling a skeletal grin back at her.

Read More

crowdcult:

Oh God I spent $240 on an Art this is why I will never pay off my credit card

Congrats, Kelly.  Money well spent.  Unless you were gonna eat with that money.

Read More

“Alright, now this next one’s tricky; he’s getting paid heavy for this assignment and is under threat of death if he snitches, so he’ll be hard to crack.”

“So no different from any other one?”

“Pretty much. This one’s a bit personal, so if I get a bit too heated up on this one-”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

“You’re a good man, Bill.” The officer placed his hand on the doorknob, “You’re a good man.”

The door creaked open and they stepped in. A lone lightbulb hung over a card table and empty folding chair.

“Is this the right room?” Bill asked.

“I don’t know, Bill.” The officer said, walking around the empty furniture, “They told us we’d be meeting with a big-shot crime boy, not some pipsqueak street rat.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Guess we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.”

Bill was silent for a moment, “Officer?”

“Now let’s not mince words,” The officer put his hands on the table and stared at the empty space above the chair, “What’d you do with the jewels, ‘Big Al’?”

Bill stared at the area between the officer’s face and the opposing wall, “Officer, are you…are you talking to the chair?”

“No, Bill, I’m not talking to a chair.” He glared at the chair, “I’m talking to some run-down, piece of shit footstool that’s more afraid of his boss than he is of me.” He leaned into the table, “But I can fix that.”

“Officer, can I talk to you for a minute?” Bill held the door open for him.

“Sure thing, Bill.” He said, walking with him out the door, “Big Al’s not going anywhere.”

Closing the door behind him, Bill turned to the officer, “Why are you talking to a chair?”

“That son of a bitch sold off some old lady’s jewels, and now he’s trying to play stupid.”

“Officer, it can’t play stupid-.”

“No kidding.” The officer lit a cigarette and began puffing on it, “He does know fear though, and I know how to give it to him.”

Bill was silent as the officer pull smoke into the dark hallway, “Didn’t you say this one was personal?”

“Oh yeah.” He looked back at the door, “You don’t know how many times I’ve met up with this bastard, but some cocky lawyer’s able to get him off on a technicality.”

“Like the fact that he’s a chair?”

“Goddamn corrupt lawyers.” He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and stomped it into ashes, “The entire system’s fucked.” He took a deep breath and looked at Bill, “Let’s get back there, we don’t want him to get too comfortable.”

He slammed the door open and stepped back in. Bill stood where he was for a moment, then followed after him.

“I hope you had a good rest, Al.” The officer said as he walked up to the table, “Because you’ve got three seconds to tell me where they are.”

No response. The officer sighed, “Three.”

Silence.

“Two.”

Silence.

“One.” The officer threw the table across the room, “Time’s up, Al, so you better tell us where it is or you’re gonna be spending the remainder of your short-ass life supporting people with bigger circumferences than most celestial bodies.”

No response.

Roaring, the officer picked up the chair and flung it across the room, missing Bill’s head by inches. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it squarely at the center of the seat, “TALK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

“Jesus Christ, officer, what the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Bill!” He screamed, pointing the gun at his partner, “You’re in on this with him, aren’t you?”

“Ok, officer, just calm down.” Bill said, slowly raising his hands, “You’re a little bit off right now, you’re pointing a gun at me, and you’re trying to interrogate a goddamn seating receptacle-”

The officer fired, sending Bill to the floor, a bullet hole in his shoulder. The officer pointed the gun at his head, “You say one more word, one fucking word, I shoot both of you, got it?”

Bill nodded slowly. The officer turned around and pointed the gun back at the chair, “Alright, so last time I was charitable with you, counting down from three. This time, I’m just gonna jump straight to one.”

A moment passed, and the officer lowered his pistol. He stared at the chair in silence. Finally he turned away and looked at Bill, who was applying pressure to his wound.

“That’s how you deal with a criminal, Bill.” He lit another cigarette, “Send a car over to check out the downtown bridge, I’m gonna get as far away from this miserable piece of shit as possible.”

He walked out the door, leaving Bill alone with the folding chair.

I’m suspending my work on “How to Fall Asleep” for reasons both personal and at the same time blitheringly retarded.  Instead, I’ve come up with a different story.  That said, here’s part 1 of my next story, “The Straitjacket”:

———

The sky flashed outside. Rain battered against the broken windows as Mcghee walked down the cold hallway. Lightning flashes cast dark silhouettes of iron bars against the walls. In the distance he heard nothing, but he knew who was there.

He came to the last cell. A broken bed, its mattress collapsed beneath the bedsprings, partially hid a figure crouching in the corner. Mcghee wrapped his hands around the bars.

“Harrison.”

The figure rocked backwards and forward. Its hair was tangled and messy, and Mcghee could see small trinkets surrounding him in a semicircle like ritual fetishes. A silver watch. A book with the cover torn off. A faded picture. Mcghee spoke louder.

“Harrison.”

The figure turned its head, exposing one bloodshot eye, “Hello, Billy.”

Mcghee said nothing, but continued staring at him. The figure stood up and turned around. Its torso was wrapped in a straitjacket, the arms pulled tight across his chest. The figure walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed frame, “Nice to see you visiting me every once in a while. I’ll bet dad’s smiling down on you.”

“I’m not doing this for him.”

“Really?” Harrison stood up and walked to the bars. Mcghee unconsciously backed away. “So you just wanted to see my smiling face? Or did you think I might be lonely?”

Mcghee stared into his bloodred eyes, “You called me here.”

Harrison smirked, “Smart man. But ‘call’ isn’t the word we should be using, is it? It’s something more along the lines of a Siren’s song, something you couldn’t quite pull yourself away from, wasn’t it?”

Mcghee was silent. Harrison chuckled, “Or maybe you don’t believe it’s a siren song. Maybe its just some masochistic streak on your part, always wanting to dwell on those skeletons in the closet, is that what you think?”

“Yes, that’s what I think.”

“Then you’re fucking wrong, Billy.” Harrison pressed his smiling face against the iron bars, “You may have all daylight to psycho analyze everything, Billy, but at night, you’re mine.”

Mcghee pulled a pistol out of his pocket, pointing dead in the middle of his forehead. Harrison laughed, “Go ahead, give it a try. Pull the trigger and fire.”

Mcghee stayed where he was, the finger lingering on the trigger. Harrison began to giggle, “You can’t! You can’t! You can’t fire!”

“Shut up!” Mcghee’s hands were shaking “Yes I can! I can blow your fucking brains out!”

“Then do it!” The rain stopped. Lightning flashed but did not darken again. The cell was bathed in blue light. “Fire and prove to me that you can do it.”

Mcghee’s hands shuddered as he tried to hold on to the pistol with all his might. But he still couldn’t pull the trigger. Harrison spread his arms wide.

“Fire, Billy! Fire!”

The gun went off. And again, and again. He kept firing madly, the bullets seeming to escape from the barrel faster than he could pull the trigger. And then it clicked.

Harrison was still standing. The bullets were frozen in the air in front of him. He was still smiling.

“I guess you could fire, Billy. Good job.” The bullets were slowly rotating, slowly rotating to face Mcghee, “Or was I the one who pulled the trigger?”

The bullets dived into Mcghee and his eyes shot open. Sweat pouring down his face, he looked over and saw Angela sleeping silently next to him. He laid his head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and lettings his hands soak under the running water. He stared at himself in the mirror. The clock on the wall showed two o’clock, and the rings around his eyes proved it.

“At night, you’re mine.” Mcghee repeated to himself. He splashed his face with water and turned the faucet off. He crept past the bed and out the door, walking down to the living room. He turned the tv on and lowered the volume to a whisper. He walked to his desk and began rifling through the papers until he found the latest submission. Picking up the red pen, he began looking through the document, circling the obvious errors and writing suggestions in the margins.

——————

“Bad night, Bill?” Angela asked as she cracked the eggs into the pan. Bill nodded as he rubbed his eyes. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Bill. This isn’t healthy for you.”

“It’s probably just a cold, it’s no big deal.”

“I don’t think colds last this long.”

“Some do.” He laughed to himself as he stared out the window, “One time my dad got this really nasty one. For three months, we’d see him walking around the house with an ice pack pressed to his face.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and Scotty.”

“Speaking of which, Kyle’s been pestering me for a dog lately. Maybe you want to get another terrier?”

“Nah, let’s get a big dog. One who can guard the house while we’re gone.”

“With a little rifle and helmet?”

“Exactly.” Mcghee turned around and pecked Angela on the cheek, “Maybe a little pair of binoculars so he can pick off rabbits from a distance.” Angela smiled and scraped the eggs onto a plate. Mcghee picked it up and began digging through them. They heard the telltale thumping of Kyle’s feet coming down the stairs, “Hey Dad, can we have a dog?”

“No, let’s get a fish instead.” Finishing the eggs, he dropped him on the table and picked up his briefcase, “I’m gonna be working late tonight, maybe you guys want to eat out?”

“Yeah!” Kyle bobbed up as Mcghee walked out the door. Unlocking the car, he threw his suitcase in the backseat and started the engine.

—————-

The pavement glides silently under the car. He flicks his turn signal on and pulls into the intersection. He checks the sideview mirror, then the rearview. He does a double take. For a moment, he stares at the empty seat reflected in the mirror. The beeping of the horns behind him jarrs him out, and he turns down the road.

————-

“I’m thinking we need to put in a whole new introduction. It’s just not eye-catching, and not a lot of people will want to read beyond it.”

“I think you’re right.” Mcghee’s boss peered at the submitted article through fogged glasses, red ink scattered across the paper, “What do you think we should say instead?”

“Just two or three short sentences, to grab the reader’s interest and get the ball rolling.”

“Sounds good, can you take care of it?”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it back in ten minutes.” He picked up the article and walked into the cubicle farm. He passed rows and rows of cubicles—and stopped.

What was in that last row?

Turning around, he walked backed to the last row. He walked down the aisle, scanning every desk until he reached the end of the row. He stood there for a while, looking back down the row.

Wait, the article! Fuck!

Clutching the paper tightly in his hand, Mcghee hurried down the aisle and into his office.

—————

Mcghee quietly inched the door open. Closing it behind him, he placed the suitcase on his desk and turned on the lamp. Opening the suitcase, he pulled out the next article and began reading through it, making corrections where necessary. He started when Angela put her arms around him.

“Go to bed, Bill.”

“I can’t, I’ve got this big article due and-”

“You’ve been working night and day, no article can be that big. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, “What’s really going on?”

Mcghee was silent for a long time, twirling the pen around his fingers. “I’ve been having bad dreams lately.”

“Really bad dreams?”

“Really bad.” He stared out the window into the dark night, “Like, I don’t want to go to bed, they’re that bad.”

“They’re just dreams, Bill. They can’t hurt you.”

He watched his hand twirling the pen, “No, I guess they can’t.”

“So you’re gonna come to bed now?”

“Yeah.” Mcghee dropped the pen and stood up, his arm around Angela’s waist, “Let’s get some sleep.”

—————

He walked down the hallway. The windows were completely shattered, broken fragments scattered across the floor as rain came pouring in. He found Harrison leaning against the bars. He adjusted his shoulder in the straitjacket.

“I hear talk you’re not sleeping very well.”

“Why are you doing this, Harrison?”

“I’m tired of staying in here. I want to go outside.”

“You’re not going outside, Harrison.”

“And you’re not fooling anyone, Billy-boy.” He dragged his tongue across his teeth, “You’ve got a nice car. A little bit expensive, given your workplace, ain’t it?”

“Shut up.”

“And Angela’s looking great! And Kyle too! Hard to believe he’s all grown-”

Harrison’s faced smashed against the bars. Mcghee tightened his grip around his throat, “YOU’RE NOT GONNA FUCKING TOUCH THEM” he roared.

“You’re wife’s nice looking, Billy.” Harrison sputtered, “She reminds me of girls I used to meet a bars, girls I’d get drunk just so I could take them home and fuck ‘em-”

“YOU’LL BURN BEFORE YOU TOUCH HER-” Mcghee gasped. His throat was constricting. His fingers went numb as he fell to the ground, Harrison looking over him behind the bars.

“Burn, Billy? I’ve been burning here for years. A slow, cold burning.” The broken fragments of glass hovered around Harrison, breaking into shards, and those shards breaking into shards, until fine particulates of glass swirled around him like a whirlwind. “I won’t be burning much longer, Billy.” The particulates stopped, suspended in the air. “You, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.”

The particulates charged into Mcghee’s corneas, and he woke up.