Tag Archives: fight

Short story: Doctor Kebab. Shish Kebab.

Story contains swearing

He scoops me up like one would a small sleeping child. I am neither. I scramble for bars of my cage frame but he was stronger. Thrashing wildly as I can the fucker holds on like I’m nothing. Not always a happy person, not particularly strong, but I meant something once. I could again.

“You’re making this worse, sweetheart, more than it has to be,” his breath comes in puffs of fetid peppermint.

Screaming was moot, the basement took care of that. The two men that still breathed roused from their cages, their teeth bared in feral grimaces. One throws himself against his door, the other follows suit.

I know he’s hauling me to the steel table by the incinerator where Carter’s corpse had slept. Chest split open. Organs harvested. I feel the wince crack apart dried up riverbed of tears. Hell wasn’t the destination it was just a passage to something worse than the tales, and ours had its jowls laced with ashes and flames for teeth.

I may be nothing in this moment but I’m not stupid. Faked injuries facilitated recovery time. He’d wanted to have some fun with us before he got down to business eventually. The slime was considerate enough to let me off the hook so he could start all over again.

The plan, need to follow the plan. I go lax in his arms. I sing a lullaby with my body, arms like wilting flowers and breaths leafless trees in the wind. I feel his grip ease, only a little.

Got it. My hand closes around cool metal at his hip. I need to act quickly.

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Fiction (?): Skin


I’m backed into the damned corner. Again. Not a physical corner formed by the union of two solid walls. The place in my mind, it’s a black dusty mine that waits for a gap in my happiness so I might fall into it. Haplessly, I do arms around my knees and head tucked in. My sooty lungs press hard against rib cages not built to take the rpm of my beating heart.

I am not nice. I do not belong the name “Mia”. I am not the scarred brown skin that thinly veils my continued existence. I am not the tentative smile centered by two brown eyes.

I am a dark night dappled in stars, covered in howling wind and cold rain like hard fingers.

Sometimes I am the words I read, the shows I watch, a part of a far flung community of inside jokes.

Mostly though, i am the banshee heralding my own demise. That wretched woman who screams and screams that falls on deaf ears of the living. The things she knows about the all things she does not, insanity. Wailing wailing waling, unnoticed by passersby caught up in their own affairs. 

i … i am lost among people who love me. i, who know not how to pull off the leaches that suck the light out of me, surely do not deserve that warmth nor can carry that weight of it.

There is a silent horror that lives behind the eyes of the tortured, i’ve come to know. It’s masked by a habitual tiredness.

Horror birthed from dark seeds, physical and mental trauma are it’s famous progeny. Little fears of mundane objects is the stealthy child. Continue reading

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Judging covers and all that jazz

You look at some people, at their outward appearances and you judge them to some length. It think it’s instinctive but I also think it’s important to treat it as a hastily scrawled sticky note. One can’t fully ever know a person, no matter how long you’ve known someone, heck, they don’t even know who they are half of the time. I can attest. I want to kick the habit of insta-judge but that doesn’t mean I’ll make friends with any and all. I believe it’s instinctive, this measuring up, for the purpose of self preservation for at some level whilst meeting for the first time (for however briefly) you try to pick up vibes, peaceable, proceed-with-caution or run-the-frak-away. That said, everyone fights invisible wars. Ugh, what I’m getting at is … how to put it?

This has a meaning. I’m sure it has.

Here I am. Great things are expected of me and such, you know how family can be (if yours is like mine), supportive with bright eyes and two thumbs aggressively up. Here I am, a chronic-insomniac who is slowly gaining ground in the battle of accepting myself, my fat lazy ass self. I subject myself to self-hate sporadically for various reasons. Sometimes I am so mad at me to the point that I am afraid of what I transform into.

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