Old man Jedidiah burned alive last night.
He had come home from the bar dripping with alcohol. When Jedidiah got drunk his wits tended to leave him for dead, and he insulted the wrong man…again. The beautiful bottle of brandy the found it’s way to crack against his skull seemed almost like poetic justice to the onlookers.
He stumbled his way home, his crinkling thin grey hair caked with blood and soaked with alcohol. Tripping over the steps to his porch, he lost his footing banging his old knobby knees into the stairs before finally slumping into his rocking chair. Staring up at the night sky, with a pounding headache and a dull buzz, his fingers followed his usually ritual and lit the cigarette hanging limply from his lips.
They say he went quickly.
His death was the most interesting thing to happen in the town for years, certainly more exciting than the poor Kingsley boy drowning in the water tower.
Words like “spontaneous combustion” and “divine intervention” were thrown about. No one thought mean old Jedidiah didn’t deserve it, even if his pained screams still echoed through their houses at night.
Was published to Short Fiction Break: can find here
“I bet you didn’t think you’d die so soon,” Alister said, nail tapping against the patient monitor, to the rhythm of her thready heartbeat. A pair of aviators rested on the bridge of his nose, the lens so reflective it was almost like gazing into the surface of a mirror.
Banks had been avoiding mirrors. Avoided gazing upon her pallid complexion, upon her sunken features, her skin tight and sticking to her bones. Avoiding the bruised skin and flesh of her, the inside of her elbow a dot to dot of needle pricks from IV drips. She was a hollow shell, a bone cage with air rattling about inside her. She was a soul trapped in an all but rotting corpse.
“Any regrets?” he purred leaning forward, his thick dark brows rising above the edge of his glasses. Continue reading “Mortality”
<= Chapter 12 Chapter 14 Comming Soon=>
Olivia curled up on the couch tucking her legs tight against her body, leaning back into the cushions. “Ready?”
Holly nodded her head, her ballerina bun bouncing. With a deep breath, the little girl sank into a clumsy curtsy, and then she began to dance. She spun and twirled, and leapt, her little tight clad legs trembling from the exertion, but she was determined. She flew around the apartment, a brilliant little grin on her face, as she enjoyed the expression of the dance.
Continue reading “M.A.L.C.O.L.M. Chapter 13”
Went to Scotland this is a short story I wrote on the craziest supernatural creature I heard about while there. (Photo from the shores of Loch Ness, didn’t get to Loch Beg, needed a saltwater Loch for the story!)
The water was a dark frothing mass, broken only by the white tips of waves as they crested. Grabbing, curling fingers of wind, tugged at fabric, burned against skin. The sky darkened, the long twilight had begun. A wave crashed against rock, the spray scattered through the air, drenching down on a small figure. Isla could taste thick salt on her dry, cracked lips. The ocean was beautiful in its ferocity, and she lingered.
Continue reading “Nuckelavee”
Long and black, the object makes no attempt to obscure its purpose. Thick iron walls intended to keep the living out and the dead in the ground where they belong. Anatomist grubby hands like to dig down in the earth and violate the corpse left to rot there. The names of Burke and Hare float through the streets, reminding people of the desirability of dead flesh, for the pursuit of science of course. Continue reading “Iron Mortsafe”
The tree bark clung to the back of his bare knees as he stretched back, leaning his broad shoulders against the trunk. The fabric of his shorts was torn, dirt-stained and grass streaked. His bare feet were crossed at the ankles, as he lounged in the embrace of the great oak. Continue reading “Character Study: Scent of Life”
In Borrof’s translation of the poem the “Pearl”, she uses the word “peer” in response to several Middle English words throughout the poem. The first instance of the word “peer” comes early in the poem in line 8 where the dreamer or speaker of the poem states, “Ever my mind was bound and bent/ to set her apart without a peer” (ll.7-8). This use of the word peer conveys his extreme depression while also showing how he idolizes and upholds this lost pearl to a higher standard. It is both a homage and an idolization of his lost pearl, which gives the reader a sense of how the speaker’s mind is clouded by the grief of mourning and is unable to see that which has been lost as anything other than perfection. Borrof translates this line from the Middle English in which it is written, “Queresoever I jugged gemmes gaye/ I sette hyr sengeley in synglure” (ll. 7-8) The word the poet used was synglure, which means to have singleness or uniqueness, which I find to be a beautiful word choice. This paints less of an image of grief-driven idolization and instead an admiration for the unique life of what was lost. Peer placed the pearl above all others while “synglure” adores her for her singular qualities. Continue reading “Pearl the Power of Prose”
<= Chapter 11 Chapter 13 Comming Soon=>
M.A.L.C.O.L.M kept his back exactly vertical, perching himself on the edge of Olivia’s couch, Tami sat across and to the side of him, her two children on the floor, all three content to blatantly stare at him. Olivia sat beside him, posture matching his, her discomfort evident.
“So…Malcolm was it?”
“How did you meet Olivia?”
“We spoke in the elevator on her first day at Donovan Towers.”
“First day…but that was over three years ago…how come I’ve never heard of you?”
“I am sure Miss Moore had her reasons.”
Olivia felt like throwing up, her world’s were colliding, crashing and burning in a spectacular fashion. She had hoped Tami would be gone by the time M.A.L.C.O.L.M arrived, no such luck. Now Tami’s curiosity was piqued and there would be no stopping her till she knew everything.
Continue reading “M.A.L.C.O.L.M Chapter 12”
Vladimir Nabokov’s fascinating and shudder-inducing novel Lolita is full of irony and wit. One scene that powerfully explores this irony is when Charlotte Haze the mother of Humbert Humbert’s obsessive love, confesses her own love for Humbert. The letter is full of coincidental and strange references to her emotions and life that echo the truth of Humbert’s reality. Her words work to powerfully draw his world into stark focus. Continue reading “The Naivety of Charlotte: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov”
“The Turn of the Screw” by Henry James is a startling story about a Governess convinced her young wards are consorting with ghosts. The tale has its basis in Realism and yet its intrigue lies in its fanciful aspects. One such characteristic is the young governesses devotion and apparent love for Mile’s and Flora’s Uncle and Guardian. Unnamed, we shall call him the Master. Though we never directly meet him, his character is made known to the reader through characters comments and his lack of presence. Continue reading “The Character of the Children’s Guardian in “The Turn of the Screw” by Henry James”