I'm rusty, so forgive my awkwardness.
With this piece I entertain myself (2POVs),
and try to ease my way back
into writing. Again.
I shrugged Tom and his hot breath off of my shoulders. The feeling of being blanketed in hellfire eased and I could breathe again. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiled into my neck. His arm pulled me into a bearhug. Those were the death of me. I felt him purr and sniff at my hairline, licking. “You taste salty. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” His nose brushed my ear.
Continue reading “warming up”
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)”
Trigger warning; abandonment, suicidal thoughts
character background: Sheriff, Carter Johnson
belongs to: Devil's Peak / alt. D.P.
Coming home to an empty house wasn’t worth the effort. The silence and emptiness joined their forces and sat on my chest, as soon as I opened the entrance door. I had to fight the urge to turn around and run. To. Just. Sigh. To give up everything and vanish from the face of the earth.
What could I do? Saddle up and go back to the office? I already worked my way through all the left-over paperwork my deputies couldn’t be bothered to submit. I bought supplies for the kitchen and the office. Cleaned up my desk, the fridge, the kitchen, the coffee machine, the cells, the archive. Ordered ammo, made this year’s inventory. Maybe I should start the cold cases. Continue reading “Wounds Shall Hurt”
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 Superstition
Part 2 Names for Blades
Part 3 Sin-eater
Each breath of cold black air cleared my mind. I held onto Frank’s arm, supporting his weight, marching him forward. Frank’s white hair gleamed like ash falling into the rich darkness. One step -or drag- at the time, we made our way up the trail towards the boulder field. He was heavier than anticipated. I had to thank myself for that, cause I had been the one to knock him out. It was for a good cause though: safety. Continue reading “Devil’s Peak (4)”
Part 1 Superstition
Part 2 Names for Blades
– SIN-EATER –
The dirt and the leaves on the trail showed no signs of disturbance. It smelled of balmy firs and two-day-old game trails. The patches of grass and plants stood straight. The path we took was virginal. No wind, no movements, no sounds, besides Frank’s and mine. I almost expected the cicadas to sing, but the forest remained silent. The day lost its fierce heat and power. Even the fir trees froze in the semitransparent shadow of ominous size, stretching above the canopy. It was something heavy and dangerous. Blue, violet, and brown saturated in the shadows but I was the only one to recognize. Light withered faster than I had anticipated. Continue reading “DEVIL’S PEAK (3)”
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”