It had been nearly a week since his last dose and the man was shaking, jonesing for his next hit. He pushed open the door to the church and smiled at the pleasant warmth of the opiate as it flooded his bloodstream.
Standing in the crowd, I felt that the people didn’t notice me.
Amazed as I was, I looked in the direction of their gaze.
A smashed, upside down car revealed the mystery of my presence.
Sweetly falls a mother’s breath upon her child’s neck, as softly they touch cheek to cheek, and lash to lash they try to sleep. But her keen ears are ever wary of the sounds that stalk and creep… night has just begun.
William Blakely-Cooper stared at his hands and wondered how much time he had before he’d be dead, these very hands rotting on his chest six feet below. Knowing where you’d like to be buried and discussing it with your family is one thing, but standing on the very grass that’s going to be laid over you soon is another.
I am he who is… who stands before you… condemned to the cross… arisen. I am the man who has become… and I have returned.
The funeral was something of a catastrophe, I must say. People are known to exaggerate, but in this case the truth is much funnier, surprising, and, in the end, sadder than anything fiction could offer: the folks were gathering at the church just fine—many from different branches of the family, and all of them friends of my father—when the thought occurred to me that what a shame it was that Dad wasn’t around to watch this; he would have enjoyed himself… although my mother believed he was watching us from Heaven, and was possibly even in attendance, and dancing around the brawling men as they rolled thru the room, in which case he would have seen the lead-up to the tussle that upset his casket from its stand, which struck the floor and opened splaying its contents—one smartly dressed Stanley Smith—across the floor.
Einstein equals much controversy, squarely falling upon his adversaries’ shoulders. The professor was somewhat indifferent to his naysayers, in fact; to him they were sour men who merely had discovered not much of anything in the realm of physics, quantum or otherwise, and therefore had sought out to debunk any single figure who figured out too much.
We crossed paths, you and I, and we shared something forbidden and divine. Today we fight ourselves with stones and clubs and vulgar slurs, and we grunt and swagger before lines drawn in the sand; but the sin of our crossed paths has become our strongest tribute… our instinctive force… our steadfastness and triumph over adversity… and our testament to the creator, whose cauldron is a sphere that spins and travels through His workshop, and His legacy is a small and brooding race.
A beautiful butterfly lands on Billy’s bruised cheek. Billy’s father staggers near and Billy cringes—the butterfly flies away.
James was not expecting the crunchy sensation as he took a bite of his hamburger. Pulling the burger away from his mouth he saw the second half of a cockroach lodged in the meat which propelled him to expulse his food all over his date sitting across the table from him.
I pulled my pants down and said to my alien abductor: “I’m ready”. He was standing there confused; think it was his first time.
I grabbed the once sweet, loving face I used to know. “My mistake,” I said as I slowly walked away.
I looked at the headstone where my dog now lay.
And said “The pawprint you left on my heart, will never fade away.”
Emily’s mother had always chastised her for being afraid of her own shadow. This time Emily stood stiffened by fear with her hands in her pockets, trembling “but Mommy it keeps waving at me.”
by Mariev Finnegan. Erie Matriarch
“I’m not putting up with it,” I raged, “Fluffy! They have no right to call me Fluffy!”
“They do have the right. Humanity engaged in class-states, wars; we destroyed our own planet. They can call us whatever they want,” Snookums said.
That old unreliable outboard motor suddenly surged forward throwing me overboard while I was still tying off the cord on the disgusting smelly chum bag.
I could feel the nylon cord tightening around my ankles as I was being dragged through the murky deep, fish guts steadily leaking from the hessian bag when I came to the harrowing realisation that I was now human bait.
The man rubbed the patch on his arm for good luck. The patch read “Apollo 13.”
The monster crouched in the boy’s closet, awaiting the darkness of the deep hours that would soften his appearance, shadow his most grotesque features. He had been lonely for so long; perhaps tonight he would finally make a friend.
The sound of a soft scream awakes me.
It’s just my nightmares coming to play again.