„Today’s the day! The day you’ve been waiting for: ‚LOSE THE KINK OR LOSE THE LIMB‘!“ A pleasant male voice booms through a bright space. Applause and deafening cheers wake Una from her slumber.
Her mouth feels fuzzy.
She doesn’t remember going to bed. Instead, she remembers doing seventy on the interstate ninety-five, just past Trenton. She is on her way to the most important test screening in her carrier. Evening news, here she comes! That job has her name written all over it. Una Hawthorn, the new face on ABWD.
Continue reading “lose the kink or lose the limb”
John and Benny dive simultaneously behind the blue Chesterfield, knocking over a marble-topped mahogany coffee table. Around them, bullets smack into the eggshell colored wall. With two loud thuds they land ungracefully. Stucco decoration rains down on them.
„I’m too old for this kind of crap!“ John grunts grabbing his revolver and the bag full with money.
„You have no right to open your idiocy vent!“ A bullet sings past Peter’s left ear. „Ever! Again!“ He grits his teeth, and peeks around the bits of the sofa. Ammo eats at the wooden floor boards, as he retreats.
The splinters jump, like popcorn on a hot stove.
Continue reading “moving in circles”
The vicious little thing, that looked like an ordinary eight years old boy, had a rotten day. He had the onks. Gnomes were prone to get the onks, especially the young ones; and being a member of the royal family did nothing to prevent that. It was bearable in human disguise though, mingling, watching these oafs, and doing little mischiefs was entertaining enough to stand the bad days.
Continue reading “the onks”
“Rise and shine, honey.” Urs says, eye locked on the road. One hand on the wheel, the other gently patting the leather jacket Red uses as blanket. He yawns and lets in some fresh air. She stretches in the passenger seat, and throws a brief look behind them. On the back seat, Cornelius is sprawled out, softly breathing in the rhythm of a sleepwalking horse.
They are nearly over the mountains by now, the rain has stopped. The engine hums, as if was a part of the nature on the other side of the windshield. Bright yellow glows at the edge of the grey clouds. The sun is breaking through.
„Five more minutes.“ She leans over to his side using his impressive shoulder as pillow. “Will you keep that dust on your jaw?” Red peaks at him from her sleep drunken blue eyes. The clouds run before them on the road.
Continue reading “Roadtrip”
a Chuck Wendig prompt (202 words) - here
“Pablo? Wake up, you’re gonna be late again.”
Only one person says my name like that. That soft, honey like sound, the smile at the end of the sentence. She always used her smile as punctuation.
My love is gone, and I’m alone with a big ass hangover, sprawled on the couch. “Gimme five more,” I mumble out of habit, only five more minutes…Damn Carnival, I drank enough to pass out. How did I make it back then?
I try to remember her scent and pretend I can reach out, and touch her hand, to hear her breathe. Maria…
But she’s gone.
I had the strangest dream. I have made a bargain with an old gipsy last night. My smile and my soul for another body and soul. I still hear the old man laughing his head off…
“Come on, hon.” The couch moves, a weight shifts to hoover over mine. Fingertips and a brush of coconut scented hair brush my cheek? What? “Did I scare you?” I… I can’t believe it!
“Maria… How?” She’s here? Her warmths under my palm, her face… It’s real!
“Oh, sleepyhead. It was just a bad dream.”
- content warning (language, violence)
You are in serious trouble, when you are on foot and heading to the meanest part of town.
Blue Hill, the dangerous. Not one day without headlines of murder and mugging in Blue Hill, the bellybutton of mayhem. The tabloids are full with that kind of crap.
Well, it’s not that they aren’t right… They certainly are, but that doesn’t even scratch the surface.
And you are the one who knows that, far too well. Continue reading “cold ‘n’ empty”
I couldn’t wait for the wonderful taste of coffee in my mouth, even if it came from the vending machine. The first sip burnt my tongue and palate. I killed my tastebuds. Again.
I needed that hot, bitter, liquid bliss to keep me awake, so I won’t miss my bullet train. Destination? Kazakhstan, a strip of godforsaken blood and kerosine soaked land, the New I.C. Baikonur.
I got hired by Strix United for a top secret job. My paycheck was going to kick my last year’s paycheck’s ass.
Continue reading “bad faith”