There was a time this sort of thing used to bother me.
Do enough vivisections and you don’t even hear the screams for mercy, anymore.
Big Stories in Two Little Sentences
There was a time this sort of thing used to bother me.
Do enough vivisections and you don’t even hear the screams for mercy, anymore.
I’m the best hider in hide and seek. I was found only once, but never again.
A man says to his wife, “Honey, can you tell the kids to be quiet? I’m trying to read my paper.” The old woman turns to the wife and says, “He has unfinished business.”
I’m the best seeker in hide and seek. There was no one who hid from me that was ever found.
Duck, Duck, Duck, Duck. GOOSE!
I learned at a young age that, if you aren’t afraid of them, the monsters in the closet and under your bed can be your friends.
Much later in life, I learned how to get them to do my bidding.
I just injected the toxin; it should take effect in a few moments.
To whomever finds this record, please know how sorry I am that I cause the
When I told my father about the monsters in my closet, he asked me to describe them very carefully.
Then he took me over to his closet, made me open the doors and then showed me the ancient, family weaponry we would use to kill them all.
I stand on the balcony in the best cold weather gear money could once buy, hefting a pickaxe and looking at the frozen things on the common below.
They said the Zombie Apocalypse would be the end of us all; all we had to do was hold out until Winter hit Montreal.
It’s always been easier to cut flesh, to cleave sinew and separate bone.
Putting them back together requires so much more effort: look what beauty I have made!
Mommy took me to the zoo.
I am still waiting for her to come back.
Ever since he was a boy, he had an undying passion for a woman’s beautiful eyes. Now on his deathbed, he insists that his collection of 300 pairs of eyes be buried with him.
You finish cleaning the soap out of your eyes, that’s when you hear a whisper telling you not to turn around.
Mum screamed, “if in doubt, kill them!”. I killed her this morning, there was no doubt.
While lying in bed trying to go to sleep, I heard my dog scratching my bedroom door. As I got up to let her in, I found her sleeping at the side of the bed.
John glances at the repetitively scratched guardrails fencing in the bed and wonders what terrorized them. The doctor simply whispers the phrase “no anaesthesia,” while wiping the saw.
I saw the sniper’s muzzle flash a kilometer off, but the bullet moved faster than me. I only had time enough to think, “I shouldn’t have come to Afghanistan.”
The last human on earth sat in his kitchen, contemplating life. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, there was a knock at the door…
I broke into the old building’s basement to get out of the cold in and rain; a voice in the dark whispered “Get out.”
And I hissed back, “Make me.”
I dreamt I was killed; not by the ax she struck me with from behind but by the company of my unsound mind.
Fighting to shake the sleep off my skin, I clutched the dream catcher by the lining of the coffin where my headboard once had been.