Alec, the (war)time-tours guide

A Chuck Wendig prompt - create a character

Ah, is this gonna be one of those interviews? I’ll have none of that. Thanks.

Of course I know what you wanna ask! ‘Sex, age, job, full name and shoe size? Pimples on my ass?’ Well? 

I’m a time traveller. Obviously.  Did I just stutter? Could you stop wasting my time? You know what?

Shut up! I’ll talk. I tell you something people never ask. I travel through time. Yes. I sounds insanely badass and mysterious, but it’s horrible.

I can’t shake off the wooziness. I’m nauseous nearly all day. Can’t eat or drink too much, cause I throw up. I have to eat a lot of sweets, so my brain doesn’t crash after a jump.

My hands shake whenever I get stressed, and I’m stiff in the morning. Not the good kind of stiff. My cold joints hurt, my back aches and it stops when I’m moving. So I have to move. Constantly.

I have to run, jog so I can walk properly.

Nightmares are my routine. 

How’d you feel, if you’d forget your daughter’s first steps, or her birth? Yes, I’ve been there. Seen her, laughed with her, hugged her, nuzzled with her and sucked in her sweet scent… Tell me, would you trade those memories?  For money?  For some egomaniacs, who plays war-safari and kill, without risks? Cause they’ve got privilege, ‘n enough money to buy themselves the right to kill people.

I want to throw up, every time I see one of those sleek suits.

It’s a disease. The doctors call it temporal multi-sensorial memory runaway. A special kind of retrograde amnesia.

But you’ve heard of time traveller’s disease, haven’t you?

There you go. Now do something with that!

Grounds for Divorce

A  Chuck Wending – RANDOM SONG TITLE STORY CHALLENGE 

This popped up on my dash: Grounds for Divorce, by Elbow

*

“Dogs bark. Money talks.” The bartender leans over, and winks at me… I nod at the shelves with the rum. He pours me a drink. And a second one too, for himself. Cocky jackass. I blow the smoke of my cigarito straight into that slick stony mug of his. Not flinching, eh? Not one muscle moving.

He’s not the only die-hard in here… The moment holds its breath ‘n turns blue.

the cat

 

The day is slowly trickling off. The sun rests on the rooftop, its orange bleeds out, reaching over the sky. Beyond the edges of the buildings on the other street side. Trees nearby rustle, as the wind picks up.

A black cat sits on top of an old brick wall surrounding a garden. It can be easily confused with a statue in the dusk. If it isn’t for those flashing yellow eyes. Horse chestnut tree branches stretch over the mural’s top, slowly waving in the evening wind. They shade the most of the wall, even with the streetlight flickering on nearby.

here birdie, birdie

This could have been such a nice, sunny day to doze off, having nothing to do, but to fit my butt between the bulges on the couch and stare at the telly. Occasionally yelling at it, or giggling, or snoring- maybe…

I merit to have those days in sweet neglect of the world outside my living room! I really do.

I’m a nice guy, you see. Easy to cope with, understanding, a good friend, polite, a hard worker… But lately, all I get is a shit load of trouble I didn’t sign in for…

270°

Useless map in my hands, gripped and folded neatly

It’s not where I’m supposed to be, not even nearly…

Where I’m going roads aren’t leadin’, but still needed.

There will be elementary darkness, when greeted –

Solid shadows from the balanced side of hell

lighting up torches of flesh, judging by the smell…

Nothing will flash its presence, to where I belong-

like crumpled up paper – my body won’t respond,

killing synaptic inferno, chemical burn dying

no more sparks to be gathered to a lightning

no more sweet moans, or arching back, no grace

nothing left to be released, diffused into open space…

Capture the blazing oblivion in irresistible pain!

Blinding gaze of ignorance … so stupid and vain.

statics

“WHAT THE-?! DID YOU SEE THAaachkkkrrsshhhh-”

What? Cracking. What did he say? Screeching. A loud bang…

The walkie-talkie falls silent. Tssk. I hate it when he does that. The burnt down cigarette ash falls into the tray. Fingers sweaty. Why does it always has to be me?!

I scan over the surveillance monitors. All cameras working properly. Empty rooms and corridors – Nothing unusual… Except for Benny. Who’s not showing up – anywhere. Where did he go? On duty?

superconductive

“I’m  more conductive, than other humans.“ The words bounce off my ears, spoken with the voice of a middle aged woman.

What was that? I look up puzzled.  The book in my lap is sitting tightly. The passenger in the seat opposite to me stares right into my face. It could have been her speaking… She says nothing more…  Awkward silence.  No context. No nothing – just staring…

full moooooooon

blacked out. woke up. morning (.) wood

no doggy

Got no dog – dog hair everywhere!

phone calls

My wife keeps calling me every day, thought I don’t know how she managed to be buried with her phone.