The Stain

- triggerwarning -

I plunked down into the leather couch and tugged the patchwork quilt over my legs. Maria, my ex-wife, made it during the five long years of our marriage. She made it for Amy, our little daughter.

I petted the fabric, fingers tracing the sewed areas, for the hundredths time, maybe for the hundred-thousandths time by now…

It had been vibrant and colorful, with the reds and blues and yellows thoughtfully arranged on twenty to thirty-five inches. Baby animals playing under the stars and the moon. Pink hearts lined beneath those little paws. My fingertips knew all the stitches.

 

It was one of Maria’s wonderful pieces. You could feel how she poured her heart, her soul, into it. Like she did with Amy. Now it was dirty, soiled with life and death, but I’d never dare to wash it.

DEVIL’S PEAK (2)

– NAMES FOR BLADES –

begin: here
remember, this is still WIP

The trees creaked as if the moon itself rolled on top of them. The sky was still bright enough but caught amber on the west side. The silence was accompanying a sense of dread and heaviness on my chest. “We should hurry,” I told Frank. No birds chirped, no animal rustled the leaves. The longer we had our feet on the trail, the quieter the forest got.

Corona (1)

The bulk of “Corona” rolled under me. My sweet little rustbucket drifted away from the denser part of the junkyard.

Nothing had “easy money” stencilled on the side, like old-timey electronics that belonged to nobody. All the gold and tantalum just sat there, so lonely. “Keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old,” I sang under my breath. Oldies were the best.

The New Year of the Rabbit

The boat rocked heavily.

That made me trip, not the whiskeys, nor the pills or the beers. Cross my heart! The railing was cold and wet under my grip, and for a moment, I wondered if I should let go of it. The stupid pink rabbit ears slipped and went bye-bye. They took a dive into the big black hungry Hong Kong Bay. Maybe I should jump straight after them, and end this farce.

bruises

“I admit, it was a kneejerk reaction,” John shivered. We were both nearly naked and dripping wet. The dive I took into the frozen lake was an accident, and John did his best to rescue me. He had a conscience after all. It was his fault that I broke in, in the first place. So he pulled me out, brought me back to the mansion. The blanket I had on my shoulders started itching. I hoped his itched as well.

Postman

It was a proper summer day, sun laughing from the sky. In the afternoon, it turned sweltering.
The leather bag dug into my sore left shoulder. The chili dog from earlier rebelled, and pressure settled in my stomach. The weather made it hard to breathe. A sure sign, I was getting old, and tired after a late lunch break.
It never bothered me before, whether the heat nor the chili.
The Pied Piper ice truck lurched in the street. Its jingle drowned out the barking dogs. The ice cream was the second-best solution to this blistering heat. The best waited for me in my fridge, a chilled beer and five of its buddies.

Cliffhanger

The rock wall flew past. I clawed at it. The climbing harness dug into my thighs and waist, yanked me back. I felt Nick’s dead weight pulling under me. “Don’t let go!” I yelled, but a gust took my voice. I swung out of control.