A cough ripped at my head and throat. I felt like I had razors for dinner. All was wet and dark. A grey reddish blur was all I could make out. My left hand stretched out to grab at the world. My head hurt and swam, and I shut my eyes. Fingers crossed my brows and came away sticky and warm. Continue reading “Waves”
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.”
“It says John Doe.” My own voice seems distant and alien. The thin hospital bracelet catches the afternoon light, and I’m more than tired. The bruised skin below the white plastic still hurts.
The car engine hums over the country music, seeping from the radio. John taps his fingers to the beat. I wish he’d stop.
Everything makes my skin crawl, including my reflection. I catch a glimpse of my black eye, and the bloodshot green one, googling back at me. I look like I have been in a bar fight with a drunk moose and a lunatic grizzly. The cut on my lip burns. The moose and the bear stop wrestling and laugh at me instead.
The seatbelt’s tug feels too tight…
Part 3 – Judge, Jury & Executioner
Part 2 – I’m that kind of Guy
Part 1 – Safe Atmosphere
also trigger warning: murder, death, insanity… the usual darkness, you have been warned
Larry stares over Tycho Crater, arms hanging by his side, like broken wings. “Last murder.” He sighs. Rustling with its feathers, the vast blackness above him stirs. Its many empty eyes blink down on him curiously. He deactivates the jammers – still, the silence of the lunar remoteness echoes through his com.
Cold and loneliness pierce him, like an insect to the ash colored background of an oversized display case. He needs to move. The suit adds weight to his lazy limbs. Only the oxygen injectors hiss their reliable song.
I bring in the tray with a steaming teapot and two gold-rimmed cups. John throws me an amused looked. „Tea? Really?“ He’s happy to throw me out of my house. I’m just a joke to him.
„Courtesy. One last time. Before…“ I put down the tray on the coffee table. Tears sting in my eyes. I cannot force them back down.
„You brought it on yourself!“ He does not hide his annoyance. I nod and pour in the hot liquid into the cups. He takes a sip. „Mmm, good.“
I do not drink it, I just stare. „It’s monkshood.“
“Right behind you!”
That’s all I need.
Alec’s leather suit creaks, as he leans over to shut off the master inhibitory signals on our implants. The log-tunnel lights up.
Protocol, protocol. My babysitter-in-time is a babysitter-by-the-book; dutifully complicating my plans. He’s the best. He’s the best I can buy. His missions are like good thrillers, never lost anyone – neither in combat, nor on a time trip. Alec is going to be so pissed, when he finds out I switched coordinates. Continue reading “War Time Tours”
Old age was a curse.
Anyone old enough could relate.
It marked the slow end of abilities, and the beginning of limitations. But this was a world made of limitations, wasn’t it? Old age was an abomination, a fence, an unscalable wall, but only if you ignored your abilities all your life long. Within those boundaries, anyone could roam freely.
My name is Rose, like the flower. My short-lived husband, Carl, loved my bloom, my thorns, my venom. He called my sense of justice, venom.