Do you know what it’s like to live without a soul Because I do
It’s like watching a romantic movie that’s so perfect you find yourself falling in love with the character Then the lights come on, and you suddenly remember that person doesn’t exist And even if they did, they would never care that you exist
It’s like running the wrong way on a race track It doesn’t matter whether you ever finish or not, because everyone else has already crossed...[Read More]
Too many sages and soothsayers to reference, those thoughtful idiots, have lambasted the youth with the wizardry of profundity They had answers to the esoteric Of Life Of Death Of the end Who are they What do they really know of the darkness What do they fancy as truth or reality or consciousness They have only an inkling Just a molecule of spittle resting in a lake of pointed conjecture It surmised to shit, is what I'm saying What they...[Read More]
Little Johnny got a fudge pop laced with razors
Susan got an orange pop filled with hydrochloric acid
Billy got Dip N' Dots dipped in fire ant poison
97 more to go
A new park everyday; new deaths every night
He was careful, always making false leads, always covering his tracks He was clever, he was quick He always made sure the poisons varied, so there was never a link to the ice cream The hydrochloric acid took two days to kick in and the...[Read More]
This is roughly a true story True in that it was told to me by my father, rough in that his memory had decayed with age, leaving his recollection of the year 1975 a bit scarred He asked me to write it down a few years back, but I never wanted to I’m not much of a writer, and in all honesty his story disturbed me deeply He died last month (though his death is unrelated to this story), but...[Read More]
At first, I didn’t think anything of it My neighbor would stop to chat with me, leash in hand, and I would catch glimpses of the metal slider dangling from its belly I assumed it was wearing a piece of pet clothing, or that perhaps it was the byproduct of some awkward veterinarian procedure, but the more we chatted and the more I saw this mystery zipper, the more I realized it was out of the ordinary; clearly imbedded in...[Read More]
Static
…Is it…
Crackle
No…just turn it…tha-
Static
Pop
KJ: Hello tap tap Hello There we go Okay, starting now My name is Katie Johns, and the following testimony from Andrew Kirby is being recorded in an attempt to preserve our history and make sure a tragedy like this never has to befall another soul Andrew, can you share with us the earliest memory you have of the event, or those involved in it
AK: I remember it like it was yesterday clears throat I was in...[Read More]
You wake up to a text one morning It is 7:03—you blink, sleepily It’s from your best friend, Tom The message reads,
hey! do you wanna hang out some time today i’m free whenever
You blink at your phone and then send him a response
yeah, I can be there around ten
With that, you turn your phone off, roll over, and go back to sleep
When you wake up, the clock beside you reads 9:26 Instinctively, you check your phone You have a text
cool!...[Read More]
"Purgatory on Earth" read the flyer as it flapped unevenly in the wind, poorly stapled against the wooden post of a power line It was an interesting title, not exactly the alluring intro phrase most religious recruitment ads used For what I knew of Purgatory, it wasn’t exactly a place most people were itching to get into in a hurry Still, I was curious enough to see exactly what sort of sales pitch this group had prepared, and I had...[Read More]
Guys, I need help I’m posting this from my car parked at a truck stop just outside Keiser, Arkansas
My parents own a cabin in rural Tennessee Since they’re getting older, we’ve been splitting the responsibility of caring for the property I go down there by myself a few times a year, to get away from the city and check up on the place I usually stop in Keiser because they have gas, a grocery store, and a little park where...[Read More]
I inhaled slowly, relishing the sharp, sweet scent of the fresh tomato sauce as I spread it Though my touch was delicate and my movement precise, I couldn't keep the swatches of bone-white dough from materializing in the ladle's wake But that was easy to correct
Measuring the sauce by eye, I painted over each ghostly trail as an artist corrected imperfections on the canvas Under appreciated as it was, cooking was still as much an art form as sculpting marble,...[Read More]
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