Part 1: kind of emergency drill
kind of character study: Frank Edwards, Mark Smith
“Suit yourself.” I smiled at Frank and his innocent curiosity. Meme barked and almost gave away his secret. That bark suspiciously sounded like ‘pity’. He didn’t like Frank much, although I had found him in the very same state of despair. Of course, Meme had chosen his animal appearance to match his not-so-human instincts. Maybe they were too similar. Where Frank was hurting himself, Meme was trying to hurt others. Still, they were consumed by the same brand of anger and hate.
Frank looked funny at Meme. He must’ve noticed. Meme smiled sheepishly at me in the hopes of salvation. “Can you imagine, how I found you?” I started down the rabbit hole. After a pause, I decided not to wait for any answers. “I followed the spreading bow wave of death that accompanied you.” Frank spat the sip of beer he just took into the fire. It hissed.
Continue reading “threshold voids & useless gods”
Storycluster: Devil's Peak;
character studies: Mark Smith, Frank Edwards
Mark couldn’t hold up his enigmatic misanthrope act. Today, he let me see his friendly side. The scotch made him chatty and I was nice and cozy in a beer-fog. Perfect match. The late afternoon droned with the noises of the forest’s edge.
The bugs screeched. Meme, the dog, barked from the shore at us. Some campers shouted and scream-laughed somewhere on the side of the lake. Chainsaw noises faded into the distance, and the dark waters of the lake whispered to the purplish hue of the fading daylight. Bah! Took a swig from the bottle. Looked like a nauseating postcard picture. A big cheesy blown kiss from Mother Nature that smacked me right where my heart was. A kiss, like poison ivy rash; itchy, blistering feeling, where I just couldn’t reach. Swollen. Red. A raw spot. My hands shook and with them the fishing pole.
Continue reading “kind of emergency drill”
alternative D.P. with changed POV, bc I suck & wrote myself into a corner. So here you go.
Parent text: here
The call saved me from kennel cleaning. Thank God to whoever rang.
I sat in my mock-ffice, in the nook between a dresser that was a stand-in for a kitchen counter, the wall, and a bunk-bed. Across the half breakroom, half guestroom was a real office, and it belonged to Ranger Mark Smith. I tried to listen to the call he just received in the most casual way I could manage without falling over. To be honest, all I had to lean on, was a white plastic folding table behind a cardboard stand with an assortment of fliers and educational pamphlets about the fauna and flora, as well as general information about campgrounds, and some new pencils. Yay. Continue reading “Devil’s Peak (alt 1)”
Part 1 Superstition / Part 2 Names for Blades / Part 3 Sin-eater / Part 4 Threshold
triggerwarning: injury, cruelty, predatory behavior
“Is this really necessary?” I’d be nervous too. “I doubt you need me tied down.” It was a bad position, yes. Frank scuttled and tried to keep his balance. But it was important to leave no doubts. I bowed down and tied his ankles and knees together. The Sin-eater was an old being, almost as old as I was, which meant it had time to perfect some nasty tricks. If it suspected a trap, it would do a lot more than just kill the child. Continue reading “Devil’s Peak (5a)”
Part 1 HQ
Part 2: Biwako-Ohashi-Bridge
Officers: Kuro, Lou Rouxgaroux, Felix Kanagawa
We reached Kyoto by bullet train. Rain clouds made the October afternoon look like an early winter greeting. Two very bored uniforms welcomed us at the platform.
First, their halfhearted attempts to hide their disinterest didn’t rub me the wrong way, but when one of them placed a folded up paper into my outstretched hand expecting a handshake… I wanted to punch them. Who was I kidding, I wanted to punch everybody. Always. It was a note was from Superintendant Yatomi.
“That’s just peachy!” Lou read it over my shoulder.
Continue reading “Fox, Wolf and Dragon (2)”
1 & 2; 3 ; 4; 6; 7
“I’ll tell you. For the sake of-” Farnsw-Peter stared me down, eyes like liquid fire, fierce and angry. “You won’t stop, will you?” His gaze locked on mine. I shook my head not able to utter a word. My mouth was dry. Funny. Never thought he had it in him. What a surprise!
“I won’t leave anything out. That’s what you’re afraid of. I don’t want fame or fortune. I don’t care about my mark in history. Not like this.” He expected something from me, but when he saw, I didn’t know what, he shook his head. He was disappointed with me?
“I’m sorry. I truly am, Peter.” I tried softly. Where was he heading? What did he want, if not being a part of such a significant, table-turning discovery? Was money on his mind?
Continue reading “Black Door”
1 & 2; 3; 5; 6; 7;
Farnsworth had spent over an hour pacing up and down the hallway before giving up and facing me. I could smell his fear, or discomfort over the stench of the hospital sanitizer. He stood there as if he went to his own funeral. “Morning. Please, take a seat,” I spoke gently and gestured to the long table. Pale and troubled he studied his feet. Finally, he and his resignation came in.
I kept myself in the furthest corner. Funny, how I found myself searching for the darkness. I stood in the shadows, like any good villain. Ha! Adam Lake, Professor, and villain. Sounded like something from a cheap action movie, from the 90ties. Also, I haven’t slept much for the last two days. I needed to match my looks with Farnsworth’s. That came handy later, I hoped. Just to make a point. Continue reading “Black Door”
I’m not superstitious. Nobody should be. I tell Ira every day I walk him to the theatre.
Fluffy feather-like snowflakes sail down from the grey December sky. The lighter in my hand spits and hisses sparks. The paper of my cigarette catches fire, one drag and my lungs fill with hot, dry smoke.
I thumb Ira’s number in my phone. It goes straight to voicemail. „Fuuu-it’s Ben. Again. Come on. I’m freezing.” The drama group will give me a chew-out for this. Continue reading “Jinx”
- triggerwarning - grief, alcohol
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.
Continue reading “The Stain”
The locusts are coming. It’s not a warning, it’s a promise. We know you are not a farmer. We know you don’t give a s****, but the locusts do. It’s a mutation within your DNA. Those locusts are just going to love you to bits. We suggest you don’t leave your apartment, and tape the windows and the doors shut.
There are letters on your doorstep. They are all the love letters that were lost, or never sent in the first place. There are simple napkins, post-its, envelopes, and torn notebook pages. Some are wet, some perfumed and some are pink. If you’re lucky, you live on ground floor, and you are able to leave through a window. If not… We will come to that next week. Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”