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
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
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
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
Castle at the World's End 1The Hawk and the Castle at the World's EndCastle at the World's End 13 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
The AwakeningThe Awakening1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
George lived alone in a small cabin next to the graveyard. He lived alone, because the other townspeople thought him creepy or even scary. And only judging by his appearance they were right at least a little.
George was about 60 years old, had a hunchback and he squinted terribly. On top of that came, of course, his job. A gravedigger wasnt really the kind of person youd invite to a dinner party.
Not that George was bothered by this. He loved his job above everything else. He just felt a little lonely sometimes
One day there was an accident in the mine most of the townspeople were working in. Thirteen people were buried alive, when one of the mine-shafts collapsed.
As soon as George heard this he went to the shed behind his cottage, got his shovel and started digging graves. It was hard work, since it was mid-January and the ground was frozen. Luckily there was no snow.
Two days later the bodies of the miners could be recovered. None of them had be
All the Scraps of HappinessAll the Scraps of HappinessAll the Scraps of Happiness3 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
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 - 206 months 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
They Say I'm GuiltyOf the nearly eighty female prisoners that had answered my request, I had narrowed my choices down to two of them. The first was a voluptuous, porcelain-skinned brunette that would make my brother drool in seconds. The second was a golden-haired, frail little piece of work, and normally I would have dismissed her during the first round of eliminations, but something kept her there. Maybe it was the way she stared at me with her venomous green eyes, but I couldn't be sure. In any case, I had my two choices set before me, each isolated in separate cells on opposite ends of the jail so that I might observe them more personally.They Say I'm Guilty2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I turned to the prison guard. "What can you tell me about this one?" I was starting with the brunette.
"Number 67," he practically spat. "Don't believe a word she tells you. She's as good a liar as they come."
I wondered at what sort of lies she had told the guard because clearl
Game NightIris showed up at exactly the wrong time, as usual.Game Night4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There was a rather large amount of screaming as a forrest worth of nymphs stampeded out of the room in surprise, leaving Zeus scrabbling to obscure himself from the giggling eyes of the rainbow goddess.
"What?" he snapped, humiliation lending his tone a tempestuous edge.
Iris, in an uncharacteristic display of self-control managed to scale back the giggling and say "It's Wednesday. You know what that means."
Zeus groaned with that peculiar whine native to all those facing down the business end of an evening in with the Spanish Inquisition's most eager new employee, and said "Must I?"
"She insists" said Iris, turning on her heel and exploding out of the hotel room in a burst of colors that would've made a bird of paradise cry.
Snapping his fingers and materializing a fresh suit of clothes from essentially nowhere in impertinent disregard of physics or logic, he groaned and resigned himself to his fate. Why? Why did it have to be tonigh
Eden's AngelI knew the old stories. The first man and woman had disobeyed, and so they had been driven out of paradise. An angel had been placed in paradise to guard the tree.Eden's Angel1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I never heard any stories saying he left the garden.
I went to find the tree, to see if it really was worth getting kicked out of paradise. I’d seen the Fountain of Youth, Atlantis, and the Holy Grail. This was the next big thing. It was the edge of the Earth and beyond. It was further than Davy Jones’ Locker. It was paradise.
Some people told me the Holy Grail and the Fountain of Youth were the same thing. If you drank from the Holy Grail, you wouldn’t die. If you drank from the Fountain of Youth, you wouldn’t die. But I’ve seen them before. The Holy Grail is an ugly brown wooden cup. The Fountain of Youth isn’t more than a pool of stale water in the middle of a cave in South America. Atlantis was less of a disappointment, but it wanted to remain hidden. So I ventured out for the Garden o
Not a Robot“Magic is a complex chemical reaction. It is created by a combination of genetic, chemical, and environmental variables. It can be replicated. I have mastered the technique. I have submitted the application for membership.”Not a Robot2 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The League of Sorcerers erupted in a chorus of protests. I analyzed each voice and filed them separately for later study. The strongest protest came from the Master of Ceremonies, a sallow faced man with a long beard. I retrieved the identfiles to address him by name. Human beings are particular about their monikers.
“Only when I am cast into the fiery pits of Zandara's Hel will this abomination be allowed to walk among the sacred halls,” Master Henry Boyle said. He tugged on his beard.
“I have no record of Zandara or Zandara's Hel,” I said, “I request clarification.”
“You are not welcome here, robot,” Mistress Cassandra Starlight said. She attempted to manipulate the atmosphere around me with a formula I h
GossamerOn Monday, he killed a spider. He scraped its guts off the bottom of his shoe before reluctantly putting it back on and shuddering. He knew it was just paranoia - he’d used the outside of the shoe after all - but he could still feel the tiny legs as if they were scampering over his foot. His cat Socrates distracted him from the ghostly sensation, meowing for the half open tin of food that was still sitting on the kitchen counter.Gossamer1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Reaching down with a smile, he pet Socrates and forgot about the spider.
He rolled out of bed on Tuesday, the sheets tossed around him in an attempt to cool down during the warm summer night. Half asleep, he trudged to the bathroom for a shower. But just moments before stepping into the tub, he looked down and jerked his foot back. Dozens of little, black, long legged bodies scurried across the white porcelain, fighting to scramble up the sides of the tub.
The phantom feeling of skittering spiders creeping up over his legs persisted even after he tur
Snap Crackle PopI know I drive you crazy.Snap Crackle Pop5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(Not in a good way.)
I know you love me.
(I don't love you.)
So when you hold my face.
(Will you kiss me?)
With a sudden twist.
(Look what you did.)
You'll snap my neck.
The Dead GodThe room was large, quiet, and empty, and it smelled like death. It should have smelled like weathered stone, or dust, or moss that grows forgotten in dark places so long it forgets its name, but Rat knew death. He had tasted it the moment they walked inside this ancient church, and he longed to adjust and stop smelling it.The Dead God3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He wished he could walk closer to the three adults behind him, but he would get in trouble. He wasn't a scrawny child today; his job was to walk carefully and take the brunt of any traps he triggered so the adults would be all right. They were needed, after all: Theodora and the silent man had the magic, and Flim was a miner. And Rat... Rat was looking for stairs. Those stairs went down a hole flush with the floor, invisible until Rat almost tripped into it. He caught himself, and his fingers clenched around his light stone. It was a long way to fall. Rat swallowed hard before calling back. "Here!"
Flim started for Rat and his light, but Theo lingered, studyi
to a young manHey. Kid. Just listen to me, okay?to a young man4 years ago in Letters More Like This
Listen to me and breathe. Because if I'm doing my math correctly right now it is June 14th and you are a freshman in high school and you're about to chug down a bottle of Nyquil and give yourself the most mind-blowing asthma attack.
Here's the good news; despite what you're trying to do, you're going to live. The ingredient you are allergic to doesn't kick in until you're sitting in social studies the next afternoon, waiting for the school bell to ring. Here's the bad news; it's a close call, and you almost don't make it. They rush you to the hospital and when you pass out in the waiting room they're going to do a tracheal intubation. It's not going to work, and you're going to lose your memory from your brain cells dying off as they hit code blue and bring out the crash cart. And it's going to fucking hurt. You're one split second away from French kissing death, kid.
You're going to be just fine. You'll spend four and a half days in the hospital. Thr
The Comedic TragedyYou would look so much more beautifulThe Comedic Tragedy1 year 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.
SFC19 - The EndThe witch had been cursed in her life, by one of the many dead who had heard of her evil, and when she died she could not pass through the veil. Her spirit was chained to her old gray house. There are those who say she haunts it still, and that those who come too near that place at night never return. It has broken down a little by now, but they say that the roof is held up by the many bones of those she took apart while she lived.SFC19 - The End2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Sahta left the place much as she found it. Although she was hungry and thirsty after her long sleep, she did not trust the witch's stores; and although she thought of bringing back a part of the bone-man who had tried to guard her, she could not tell him apart from all the other bones. Also she remembered that bone-men cannot pass through the veil, but simply disappear when they die, so they have little use for remembrance; and he had been long-dead already, besides. So Sahta only cried for him a while, and left without a keepsake.
She took the horses with h
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 Dream1 year 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.
A Pair of Fool-Hardy MaggotsA Pair of Fool-Hardy Maggots1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I met a man several nights
Ago and I cannot yet be bothered
To remember his name. He
Speaks in silky ribbons, without a
Single care in the world, so (un)
Blissfully unaware of how beautiful-
How awkwardly charming he truly is.
We spoke about philosophy, about our
Fears- his worries- far beyond
The hour I stopped watching the clock.
"Show me your city," I said, and he told me
There was nothing for me there, but fog and
Dismal happenstance. I replied that I knew
The fog, that I was in love with it, once
Upon a lifetime ago.
Dreams with me, and lack
Thereof; I was flummoxed at the time.
Who was I to this broken chrysalis who'd found me?
A simple stranger from across the pond with
Ink in her stomach to be
A child, no more or less,
That's afraid of such things as
Not being good enough to remember.
There was talking of sleep, how wretched,
Fickle it was, of suicidal minds, of wandering hearts,
Of the body, what a lovely canvas the flesh is.
I think I'll
AeonsTimeAeons5 months 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.