Traitor’s Hell

Traitor’s Hell

chuck wendig prompt – song lyrics prompt

…”Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep’em on a leash” … HOZIER, ARSONIST’S LULLABY



Cold. Someone slaps me. It’s wet, hard. And freezing. My arms and legs hurt. Can’t move. Getting dark.

“Wake up, rat. You won’t duck justice!” Barking. Far away a dog barks. “WAKE THE FUCK UP! Don’t you dare to die! 911- Hello? Yes. Send an ambulance, fast. Corinth 1507. There’s been a fire. Yes, male, Caucasian, shot several times. I don’t know… Yeah… I’m starting CPR.”

Continue reading “Traitor’s Hell”

Cursed, not Gifted

Cursed, not Gifted

Special Agent Eric Paulson stood in my doorway, with a goofy smile on his thin lips. He flicked away his still burning cigarette. Snowflakes melted on his grey stubby chin.

“What do you want?” I asked. Bitterness seeped from the back of my throat. I wanted to spit it out, but words fell out instead. “Seven. Years.” He didn’t even call, when my sweet little Anna died. Continue reading “Cursed, not Gifted”

No Barking!

No Barking!

I ran out of luck today.

My landlord cornered me in the laundry room. I evaded him for two weeks, but not today though. “Your fucking dog keeps yapping the whole goddamned night.” He spat on my sneakers. Mr. Garbagegoblin, as I called him, was as pleasant as explosive diarrhea. I grabbed my wet shirts and stuffed them into the dryer. He stepped closer. The smell of his armpits hit me.”Shut it up! Or you’re out!” He barked into my face, breath wafting with rotten teeth and whiskey.

“But he hasn’t barked yet because he’s a good dog. Even if he’s a cat.” I tried. Continue reading “No Barking!”

Shadow Duties and the Word of Beasts

Shadow Duties and the Word of Beasts


“Sumimasen…“ It’s a reflex, really. I shouldn’t have…

I hold out the single warm glove, I pick up. The old lady turns around and stares in many shades of confusion playing around her eyes. I must have spoken Japanese. Her brows shoot up, seeing her glove in my hand.

“Thank you laddie! Bless you.“ I smile and bow slightly. Bright sunshine warms my back. The heavy tarry feeling on my hand stays, like mud on boots. The old lady turns away and hobbles down Park Lane. Her grey tweed jacket flickers with shadow and light, as she passes under the canopy of the trees nearby.

No matter how hard I try, the sadness stings in my throat, burns behind my eyes. I rip my gaze away from her back.

The old lady dies.

Today… Continue reading “Shadow Duties and the Word of Beasts”

the other

the other

there is this house between lime trees

an old man with a black dog lives there

and on the collar it carries a bunch of keys

listen – a distant jingle in the cold night air

One key is black, the other made of silver,

one is of iron, one of wood and quicksilver,

one of rust, one of copper, one made of lies

one is made of sunshine, one of bottle flies

night falls with pallid light and heavy shadows

winter chill  exhaled from the animal’s wet nose

the old man lights a candle and his dog sits

he arranges pebbles, buttons and wooden bits

his dry bony fingers poke at them on the table

trying to pick up a witch stone but unable

he smiles and tugs a key from the collar

the dog howls, saddened with dark dolor

its eyes glow, searching for his master’s face

searching for an impulse in time and space

The old man stands up bent, goes to the door

jams the key into the lock to turn it once more

the entrance door swings open, to let in the dark

the dog follows the living light ignited into spark

the experiment

the experiment
content warning

I got you a blanket, so you won’t freeze.“ Steve smiles and hands Tom a grey woolen cover.

Already half undressed, Tom furrows his brows. He stops mid motion, shoe laces around his fingers. „It looks scratchy. I’m hungry, and it’s freezing.“ He looks at Steve’s face and stops again, irked. „Don’t stare like that!

Like what?

Like I was a piece of cherry pie. Stop that. It’s awkward.

The blanket flies to the autopsy table. „I just can’t please you, huh?“ Steve smirks. „When did you eat the last time? Continue reading “the experiment”

Future Graveyard

a Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge (240 w) here

I plucked out a thin thread from the empty space in front of me.

With a gentle pull, I rotated my index around it. Slowly. With elliptical movements, carefully not to rip it. Always the same, always one thread at the time. I tugged at the fabric of destiny, twirled it between my thumb and index, till it became solid. Not one resisted my hands. I made a ball, in the size of my fist.

It looked like hair, made of pure moonlight. I remembered its glow, when I was still able to see, but that was long ago.

Somewhere around me, on the limestone tiles of the room, there must be over ten thousand orbs of glowing silver.

Decades passed, and what I did, I did every day. Since I got blind, I only imagined, when one day began and when it ended. The only constant occurrences were the food. They always send a child with the food, once a day – probably – always a different child.

But that wasn’t my concern.

My duty was to eliminate the uncertain futures, by pulling the alternative destiny patterns out of the tissue of time. I obliterated parallel events out of the myriads of possibilities. The run in the fabric collapsed the unwanted realities on its own. I only hooked the critical event and tugged, till I felt the cold sigh of perishing on my face.