The Curious and Peculiar Tale of the Simonov TwinsThe Curious and Peculiarly Tragic Tale of the Simonov TwinsThe Curious and Peculiar Tale of the Simonov Twins1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I have done most of my post-doctorate work alongside Dean Eroslide as he ran Harry Loaine School for Boys. It was a tiny little establishment, set up in a series of pathways and cottages that made up the dormitories and the 'holistic' and 'traditional', designed to accommodate Dean Eroslide's philosophy of natural living: 'clean and untouched life energy regulates all chakras and promotes a positive educational environment'. Needless to say, Harry Loaine School for Boys was a parent's last resort, when everything from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to Interventions and to Involuntary Hospitalization was never enough. The Dean had no degree of any sort other than a few licenses for Chakra healing and Reiki, so the entirety of the upkeep of the facility remained on the shoulders of these desperate parents--and of course the government kickbacks the School received for keeping me as a full time Child Psychologist
Gloves TG"That must be my new gloves," smiled Andrew hearing the letterbox clatter as letters were pushed through it followed by a knock at the door. When he opened the door, there was no-one there just a small brown box with his name and address on it. Usually the postman handed parcels over personally, so it was strange that this time he had just left it there, but Andrew just shrugged it off, thinking that the guy must have been in a rush or something. Absentmindedly, he gathered up the letters and dumped them on the kitchen counter after a quick flick through to check there were none for him. He immediately dashed upstairs to his study and started to open the box.Gloves TG5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
It was bound tightly in cellotape and he had a hard time getting into it with his short, bite-blunted nails, but eventually he managed to break through and open the lid flaps, spilling polystyrene peanuts all over his desk. Mildly annoyed he brushed them into the bin an
Butterfly"Have you always been a bumblebee?"Butterfly4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Of course! Haven't you always been a butterfly?"
The butterfly snorted. "Of course not. How boring! Life is too short to stay the same all the time."
The bumblebee frowned, skeptical. "But that's ridiculous. How could you have ever been something else? What were you?"
"I used to be a caterpillar. You know, the world is much different when you're stuck that close to the ground." The butterfly's blue wings shimmered.
The bumblebee just stared, bug-eyed. "But how?" he demanded.
"Sorry, trade secret," the butterfly winked. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
The frown of the bumblebee deepened, and he lifted off of the sunflower they had been sharing.
"Fine," he said. "If you're just going to be making up stories, I might as well leave."
The butterfly followed him through the air. "What's wrong with making up stories?" She asked. "Not that I am, because I wasn't, but really, what's so bad about it? Stories are magic."
Behold, Sweet CharityBehold, Sweet Charity1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A thief with red hands,
In confessional with God overhead,
Sits in darkness and tears.
Alone is the sinner,
A wayward soul caught
In a balancing act that
would be wished on no other.
Hell awaits, just beyond
those wooden doors,
While the demons, sit just opposite
Where a priest should be.
The dwell cramped
in hallowed ground
By the will of their purpose.
One word after another,
Build up the lies for temptation,
Straight up from depths of Oblivion,
For lies to come for a heavy heart.
The weight becomes great,
Blotting out the speech of Hell,
Birthing deaf ears to temptation.
Apologies are for sinners in search,
Seeking for absolution, retribution
and revelation against obstacles.
Grace is for the
prideful turned beggar,
homeless in the home
of a world all over.
Imprisonment so temporary
is for the apologetic beggar, by charity
is given a warm fire by Omnipotence.
The Giver whose will
is by His own testament,
Shifting only to blend
In our lack of understanding.
Trevas/DarknessEu tenho sombras, mas nenhum solTrevas/Darkness1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have shadows, but no sun
Death of a Noodle (Everybody Tells Me What to Do)I click through web pages on my computer. I’m having a little Internet Time. I spot something that catches my interest. I smile. I click it. The title reads How to Be a Writer. Beneath it there’s a list of instructions. How fascinating. I read on.Death of a Noodle (Everybody Tells Me What to Do)1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
1. Go to the beach
2. Lick your friend’s eyelashes
3. Make pee-pee in a pot plant
I scowl and close the tab. Surely these things won’t make me a writer? Sighing, I begin a search for something more practical. I type away.
A link appears before me. It’s a little thing sitting on the left side of the page. I hold my cursor near it indecisively. How to Be a Poet. I click.
1. Drench yourself in anxiety
2. Seriously, drench yourself
3. You’ve gotta do some sports-drink-advertisement worthy drenching right here
4. Also bathe yourself in woe
I scroll through the list, getting more and more desperate. Where is the part about writing actual poetry? My heart is racing. I feel the
River and the DoctorIt took a lot of pushing and shoving to load that blue box into the cargo bay: even with the mule and the ATV, Mal couldn't blame his latest customer for circling the crate nervously every time it wobbled on its setting. He himself was in a right high-spirited mood, as the patron in question had paid up front and quite generously.River and the Doctor2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
"Caaareful," the eccentric man protested as his prized possession trembled for the umpteenth time. He held out his hands as if hoping to catch it, but in reality it could probably crush him. The skinny stranger moved as if he hadn't quite grown into his limbs, waltzing about in a tweed jacket, navy trousers and a bright bow-tie. And to hinder his physical talents even further, his unruly brown hair dangled completely in front of his eyes in one fell swoop.
"No need to beat yourself up over a couple scratches, stranger," Mal called to him while he and Jayne worked. He particularly eyed the nicks and scuffs in the bright cobalt paint. "This thing looks like it'
Castle at the World's End 1The Hawk and the Castle at the World's EndCastle at the World's End 14 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Chapter One: Of Meat Pies and Story Telling
"My mother used to tell me when I was a small boy that fairs were the most amazing, wondrous, messy things," the redheaded mercenary said as he stared out of the pavilion, watching the sea of tents and people pass in front of him.
"Your mother was a wise woman, Hawk," said a voice behind him.
"Sometimes, Master Emrys" Hawk said.
He turned to smile at the speaker, who was sitting on a chair like it was a throne. Portly, and dressed in a dignified garment of gray trimmed in red, Emrys looked every bit the merchant, with a well-groomed beard that tapered into a vee, and observant, clear green eyes. Surrounded by a display of fine fabrics still yet unsold, his arm was draped across a length of blue silk. Emrys caressed it with a gloved hand absentmindedly, as if it were a cat.
Hawk crossed mail-clad arms. The metal
All the Scraps of HappinessAll the Scraps of HappinessAll the Scraps of Happiness4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Once upon a time there was a girl who went by largely unnoticed by the eyes of mortals. She slipped through the cracks of time and spirit through long forgotten passageways, and in this manner she sought to add to her collection. For hers was a collection of happinesses that had once lived and burned in the hearts of mortals, but slipped by the wayside once the joyous event had passed.
She never knew where she might find another used happiness, on the floor of a cottage or near the roots of an old cherry tree. They were like very bright puzzle pieces to her, never a single hint of black or grey, but always radiant and bold. There were crimsons and greens and blues and golds and oranges, and never a dull color in the mix - for such is not the nature of happiness.
The girl at first was naked and bare but soon had collected so many scraps of happiness that her whole body was covered in patches, the vibrant hues becoming a second skin. But soon that wasn’t
NoirIt was a dark and stormy Night-Mare that galloped down the forbidden paths of the faithless slaves of the Dreaded Sire. On its back, young Werther was in a frantic agitation, barely hanging on in the Hellish Horse's saddle as it jumped over the occasional fleeing spirit escaped from the Sire's service. The pale glow of the ethereal slaves darting between dark and twisted trees didn't distract him from his dire quest. Barbarossa had taken yet another wife, who would undoubtedly end up in the Broken Tower. That wife was Werther's beloved Little Christie.Noir4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
One of the ghoulish, triffid-like Huorn-trees nearly grabbed Werther's plumed hat, but he punched the branch away before it could get close. The swing was too long and it nearly caused him to lose balance and break his neck, especially since one of the Dreaded Sire's Headless Horsemen darted right before him, making his Night-Mare rise on two legs. The young man did not have the time to pity whatever unfortunate slaves the He
Moving On“No.” It was all I could say, taking in the carnage of what had just last night been my pristine kitchen. I wanted to collapse onto a chair, but they – and our spacious table – were covered in miscellany. Cleaning supplies, random knick-knacks from the living room, a thermometer, a scale. It was all there, strewn about.Moving On1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My legs were shaking, and I fought the urge to cry. So messy. So dirty. No, no, no. I collapsed onto the shoe bench in between the Franco Sarto and the Gucci. I don't know where Giesswein had gone. I wished I could blame it on burglars, but no.
“She's doing it again!” I called, and my husband came running into the kitchen. We watched his mother rearrange my cabinets, turning tea-cup handles to the left instead of the right. My hands twitched.
“Ma, stop it!” he said, exasperation coloring his voice. “Put these things back, they were fine where they were!”
"No," she said, her voice heavily-accented. "I will take
The Siren - 20The regulars at the JoeHaus had already become accustomed to John by the time the weather began to change and Sandie finally broke out a denim jacket. The sign on the Baptist church down the street still flashed “Pray For Rain,” but the grass on the sides of the highway was no longer spontaneously bursting into flame every few days, and the sound of fire truck sirens became a slightly rarer occurrence. The cedars turned brown and shot their pollen into the air like so many allergy-inducing smoke bombs, and all of San Antonio was covered in a thick pall of brown cedar dust until the prayed-for rain finally washed it away.The Siren - 201 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
John commandeered Sandie’s laptop, spent two hundred hours on the internet, and came away with a working knowledge of the written word and a lackluster understanding of fashion. He bought five black button-down shirts, five pairs of blue jeans, and a pair of Converse All-Stars. He gave the rest of his earnings to Sandie, and she bought lunch meat and
The Comedic TragedyYou would look so much more beautifulThe Comedic Tragedy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If you did not have
To smile all the time;
Cut free and choking on your severed strings,
Try as you might, you cannot
On your own.
You need someone
To hold you up.
To paint away with
Your placid grin,
Little puppet boy. The night will teach you
This Earth is not all
Dancing on the edges
Of someone else's fingers has
Rotted you hollow
And filled your chest with parasites
That you have come to so naively call
Your closest friends.
But my humblest respects unto you,
Foolish puppet boy,
For I might have hanged myself on those strings
Before realizing to cut myself loose.
Cops Arrest Death for GraffitiToday, two members of the NYPD have arrested a black-cloaked offender for vandalizing the wall of a Midtown Manhattan skyscraper. Upon dragging them to the police station, they discovered that the person was genderless and used the hood of the cloak to conceal a rather troubling lack of skin, meat, eyes or nose on an otherwise lively skull.Cops Arrest Death for Graffiti3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"We realized," officer Jobson says, "that this was not your ordinary criminal - I mean, most of the people we bring over have some identifying features and while I suppose that having a skull for a head is identifying, it's just... Troubling. What do you write in the 'skin colour' or 'eye colour' boxes, you know?" Upon being asked how he fared with this discovery, he answered after some consideration, "I've never seen a real skull before. It was odd."
His colleague, John Daffodil, says about his near-Death experience, "My old mum got quite a fright when she called me and I said I'd met Death. She thought I'd been shot or something. Anyway, a policem
Only a DreamIf I was not a coward, I might have said something about the knife in my back by now. I might haveOnly a Dream2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Told you what internal bleeding feels like,
But, I have to wait until I
Get my spine back- I don't remember who I've lent it to, or when I gave it to them.
I've thought about painting my words on you, writing all the beautiful things about you across your shoulder blades for everyone to see. It
Would have been in my sloppy, unsteady hand, and it would have been washed away the next
Evening with all the dancing in the rain you do
But somehow, I don't think you would mind so much.
I am a coward, though, so I couldn't do
Any of those things.
BlackIt began in the quietest hours of the night. Granny was snoring up a storm, her bed creaking with each breath and twitch of her bigness. That's always the first thing I remember, thinking back. She always snored in the same way Pappy revved up the engines of his prized Cadillac. Loud, proud, and never ending.Black2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I s'pose I should start with what happened before hand. Nothing will make sense if I don't. It don't make no sense anyhow, but the story won't be right if I don't start before everything got bad.
So we were in the market, Granny and I. We go every Sunday while my parents and siblings are at praise and worship with most of the rest of the town. We get all the best stuff that way without havin to elbow our way through the hordes of people doin their last minute shoppin for Sunday dinner. Granny always said that the best book couldn't keep her from making Sunday dinner, and no man in the sky gonna keep her from her shoppin.
"Jerry, you got them apples for me?" Grann
Queen of GeeksUnexpected end to kidnapping caseQueen of Geeks3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
[Sunnyvale Tribune 23 Feb 2007]
In an unexpected development, police have closed the case against the kidnapper of twenty year old Nicole Cantrip. 'The circumstances surrounding Miss Cantrip's alleged disappearance have become clearer,' Inspector Frank Jones told the Tribune, 'and it's come to light that the case was filed in error. There is no evidence whatsoever that a kidnapping took place.' Since Cantrip is over eighteen, the applicable missing person legislation is almost non-existent, much to the dismay of her mother.
'Something has gone horribly wrong when a girl can be forced away from her family by people she's never met and it's called normal,' said a tearful May Cantrip. 'Nix wouldn't have abandoned us, dropped out of all her classes and left everything behind unless
somebody was forcing her.' Mrs. Cantrip claims that her home was invaded by several men who demanded that her daughter accompany them to what she describes as 'a k
AeonsTimeAeons1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Too long and too short,
divided between blacktop canvases
and Mississippi mud;;
Days spent choking on telephone lines-
hours paved over by miles,
with something precious lost
in the gap between minutes;
Turn back the clock
to a time when the earth still smelled sweet,
When kisses meant no more than tender smiles
and no less than a raindrop on your tongue
Turn back the miles,
to a place where we can lay
once more beneath the stars-
still believing they belong
to you and I alone.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Trust IssuesI. (Set the stage)Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Trust Issues3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"The color of my bra is called Flirt," the girl says, popping a bubble in Amelia's face and winking. The sickly sweet scent of chemicals and sugar mixes with the chemicals and the sugar of the bar, hags low and heavy about their faces. The girl slides closer, beaming, her eyelids low. She's wearing too much mascara. Amelia grips her drink tighter and pulls her elbows in collapsing, she fills less space than she did before. Volume stays the same, the number of atoms composing her stays constant, but she appears to be smaller. Could this be expressed mathematically, or with a computer simulation, she wonders, and sips at her drink. She says nothing.
"See here." The girl tugs down her shirt sleeve and shows Amelia the thin bra strap pressing into the moon pale skin of her shoulder. The orange lighting makes her seem healthier than she is. "Flirt." She wiggles her eyebrows in a way that would be suggestive, if her makeup wasn't so dark that it made her look
DragonneDragonne4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The stableboy was nowhere to be found. Probably catching frogs somewhere. If his father wasn't so much of a drunkard, I would have fired him years ago. I almost slammed the door of the inn and went back inside, but I could hear what sounded like an angry customer at the counter. I decided to leave that mess for the barmaid and feed the horses myself.
I resolved to do this more often, as I went from stall to stall, patting noses and listening to the grinding of teeth against hay. I liked the smell of the stable too. How long had it been since I had been out here?
My reverie was cut short when a flash of metallic scales revealed that the fifth horse wasn't a horse at all, but a dragon! Or rather, a dragonne, as I believe the smaller, horse-sized breeds are called. It was beautiful! Its scales looked to be made from pure gold, and it had a tufted tail like a lion's. I wondered why its master hadn't requested some sort of meat instead of hay. Did dragonnes even eat hay? From
Disturbing the PeaceWomen in corsetsDisturbing the Peace3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
disturb the peace.
Darkness Smells Like RosesDarkness Smells like RosesDarkness Smells Like Roses3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I blew the stray eyelash off of her cheek. She shivered as my breath brushed across her skin, but she didn't wake up. Instead she nuzzled the back of her head further into my shoulder and kept on sleeping, her even breath keeping time with the grandfather clock next to the couch we were on. My arm was falling asleep, but I couldn't bear to move it and wake her. I also couldn't fall asleep. I never sleep when I spend the night with her. All I can do is lay still and silent, watching her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. There was a clawing noise against the cloth covering the back of the couch. Puddles, Emily's cat, squeezed his way up from behind the couch. His eyes looked disembodied in the darkness, his black fur melded with the black couch and the dark of the night.
He purred at me as he moved languidly forward to snuggle into the crook of my neck, right above Emily's head. I was just a popular guy tonight. I let Puddles bury himself into the
Gothic Love DollGothic Love DollGothic Love Doll5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Derek was attending his High School and was moving along the hall's as he always done everyday until one day he saw a strange looking girl. She was in a frilly outfit with thick amounts of makeup applied to her and had a tiny frilly head piece on her head. Derek couldn't keep his eyes off her as she was suddenly approached by two football players."hey their freak show, wanna date for the dance", one of the bulking behemoths said to her. Derek walked along and interrupted them, "Hey leave her alone you jock freaks", he said without regard. They shoved him into the lockers and they walked off. The girl was standing around and was staring at Derek who was in pain. When he got back up it was time for lunch and he headed into the lunchroom. "Hmm I wonder where she sits", he thought to himself.
After lunch he attended the rest of his classes and as the bell rang for dismissal he saw the girl in a crowd, as she was easy to spot. "Hey", he tried to yell to her but she turned a