Christmas Dinner With DmitriNow, now, Margaret. Thats hardly polite. You really ought to wait your turn. The gravy will come round soon enough.Christmas Dinner With Dmitri7 years ago in Horror More Like This
Margaret stares blankly back with all the enthusiasm her shiny button eyes can muster. Which is the normal amount.
And you, Jeremy, stop that! Youve almost knocked over the candle! Do you want to set us all on fire?
The candle in question lets out a faint sputtering sound of remonstrance.
Dmitri sits placidly carving a lump of pinkish flesh on a large blue platter, his arms akimbo as he simultaneously attempts to watch his guests and slice the meat into tidy strips. He is a tall man and thin, with a look of pale Silly Putty, as though he could be stretched to any length one might desire, and then postured, jointless, in some awkward fashion upon his seat. His eyes are dark and twitchy, his hair straggly, supplanted spider legs on caterpillar brows, and his clothes have the weighted, fuliginous look of something that has been dragged thr
AngelesThey sent an angel, of course. They did every year, and the angels fluttered back with broken wings, pearlescent skin chipped like old porcelain. It was easy enough to repair the cracks that leaked blood like quicksilver, to mend the fingers bound in strips of cloth where sections had gone missing. But the angels were never quite the same again. Their eyes darker, warier, like pearls dipped in ink. Their golden hearts a pale dying amber within their translucent chests.Angeles7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
(Sometimes at night, you can pass a clump of the ones that have been sent down, clinging together, their sleep interspersed with screams, wordless sounds like the child-cry of a wounded panther. They toss and turn like maggots writhing in a fetid corpse, clawing at nothing.)
If all had gone as planned, the angels would return each year in full regalia to kneel at the Makers throne and offer a precise report of the progress of Man. It was not expected that Man should be perfectheavens, nobut it would be
A Day In the Life of...And what would you like for Christmas?A Day In the Life of...7 years ago in Ballad More Like This
the fat man said.
Cindy Lou said with joy, A
fire truck thats red!
A fire truck, eh?
the fat man pondered.
He nodded and she bounced on
his knee from under.
He brushed his mighty beard
and then he exclaimed,
Youve been a great girl this year,
A wonderful dame!
"Today, it's you're luck! Ill give
you that fire truck!
And what would you like for Christmas?
the fat man howled.
Greg Maybell said with a smile,
I want a Chow Chow!
A puppy, huh? he said
with a strange look.
He reached behind his grand throne
and pulled out a book
skimming names until he reached
Greg Maybell? he replied.
Greg Maybell nodded. Looks like
youre just skimming by
on my good list. Are you sure
you dont want something else?
Maybe a nice plush puppy
or one made of felt?
Greg Maybell looked down.
Ill clean up my
How FittingHow fitting that this would be the day, the day of his birth, of his Savors birth, the day on which he had forsaken Him, and the day that everything had been taken from him would now be his day of judgment. He would have laughed at the unfairness of it all had he had enough breath to do so, but as it was he could barely breathe and he hadnt uttered a sound in years.How Fitting7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He hadnt always been like this, old, bitter, alone. No, once hed been young and idealistic, full of life with friends and family that loved him and that he had loved deeply in return. He met the love of his life and they were happy even though children would never be in their future. But the world had started to change and with it so did he. Then the wars came and his unique skills were needed. He went willing knowing that he was doing a good thing. Then slowly the ends began to justify the means no matter the cost. His loved ones began to look at him with trepidation and disgust. He heard the whispe
False ProphetThe road killFalse Prophet7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of your thoughts
trips you up,
and spills you out
on hot asphalt
and bright pins,
and shards of black glass,
dug deep under your nails.
you spin and weave trouble
like spiders in jars,
where legs tangle
and eyes grow beady
in the tight air
with wasted time
like a twisted clock
the black threads of your lies
with your sharp white teeth
hanging like old news
in the corner,
as withered as your heart
spat out like demon seed
in someone else's head.
I Cried For You Last NightI cried for you last night....I Cried For You Last Night7 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
it was not your Birthday nor Mothers Day...
it was just a ordinary day that
goes by without you in it....
Strange how a grown woman could feel like a little girl who needs her Mommy...
Its been 2 years, 2 months and 14 days since you left this world...
Funny how it still feels like yesterday when I received that dreaded call
I miss our phone calls, I miss your advice even when I did not ask for it...
I miss your humor.... I miss your crazy personality your gusto for life...
but most of all Mom... I miss you...
Since you been gone I realized how much I needed you in my life.....
its funny how they say "Once a person is gone from your life you will realize what you had"
I realize that now.... and I miss you
I am sorry for not having the time to chat when you called...
I wish you would call now....I have so much to tell you but ....
you can not call me anymore I need your loving advice..
even tho it may not be what I wish to
WerewolfThe Moon is highWerewolf7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Taking advantage of another night
The silver light
Is calling for another haunting sight
The wolves come out to play
Salvage hunting of their preys
Moonlight bathes the bloody flesh
The smell of the fresh meat
Carved in the monstrous claws
Half man, half wolf
Tempting godlike creature
In his eyes a bittersweet seducement
Howl to me
Hunt for me
Pierce my skin with your claws
Scratch my back open
Lick my bleeding wounds
Leave nothing left to taste
Take me inside of you
Full silver moon
Bathing the ground that hold us
In a promise: your eternal bride
Cause my love for the beast is immortal
- Dharieth -
Secrets Of A Woman's . . .Secrets Of A Woman's . . .7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Tight-lipped, my secrets stored within me.
The vast corridors of a woman's soul
stretch out into infinity, containing many doors;
many rooms kept under lock and key.
Many places where no footsteps but my own have tread.
I keep a scrapbook of my memories
held close to this heart that has known both
love and loss; both happiness and emptiness.
It has been stained with tears and creased with
every time my hands have touched its pages.
But my hands have touched it and mine alone.
Nobody can know the truth inside my spirit.
The lengths that i have gone to, to have this
secret garden where only i know the types of
flora and fauna within its borders.
Nobody has seen it; no eyes have beheld it but mine.
And such is how it's always been.
words whispered in my ears have remained an echo
within these ears and no one else's.
and as i place the scrapbook on the shelf,
i walk amongst the hidden things, content to say
that i have kept my part in keeping them
safe within a woman's soul.
The Mistletoe NeclaceMilton Fickleburg edged by Bower Tech for over twenty years without making so much as a single friend at work. He skidded by unnoticed and under-appreciated with sub par work and a forgetful attitude. He was a man people wouldnt even joke about because it would be a waste of time and energy to make fun of such an insignificant spec in their daily routine. Milton Fickleburghoweverexcelled in one thing: retaining information.The Mistletoe Neclace7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Every year, the employees at Bower Tech threw a Christmas party, a party where employees liquored themselves up and partook in numerous acts of debauchery. Since he began working at Bower Tech at twenty, Milton attended every Christmas party without fail. Every year, he sat in the same chair in the corner of the office next to the Christmas tree. Every year, he managed to find the one non-alcoholic drink in the building and sip on it the entire night, never placing his glass down, ne