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Literature Text
Affixed to her fridge were flame magnets, the kind you were supposed to put on your car. It looked as though the fridge was trying to fly through the floor, which wasn't yielding. There was also a scrap of red carpet duct-taped over a hole in the front plastic layer of the freezer door. Someone had drawn a crude penis on the fabric with a black marker, complete with a little smiley face. On the inside, several large nails had been hammered in, forming the shape of a cross. There were splatters of something red around it.
Inside, there was nothing save for about fifteen shot glasses filled with different colored kinds of jello. Likewise, there wasn't a lot in the freezer, aside from about five bottles of bottom-shelf gas station liquor.
Inside, there was nothing save for about fifteen shot glasses filled with different colored kinds of jello. Likewise, there wasn't a lot in the freezer, aside from about five bottles of bottom-shelf gas station liquor.
Literature
Unknowable
Unknowable
The darkness pressed against my corneas, diffusing across the transparent boundary into the aqueous humour, as if it were a solid object forcing its way to my retinas, obscuring my vision. The distant creaks of the old house lent a menacing atmosphere to the blackness permeating the almost silent rooms, the almost footsteps complementing the almost-forms of the dark.
As the sleep fell away from me, the looming tenebrosity receded and the house took on a less perturbing aspect. The creaks were just creaks, the shadows in the corners of the room were just the places that the dim light from the power extension cable near the bed did
Literature
Dead
Torn and chaffed down
to a selfless mass of flesh and empty neurons
I am dead
again
I am reset, restarted, but not renewed
empty
a blank sheet
with no one but an infant
to scribble the basic coding and awareness mechanisms
There is no second birth or reincarnation
the gods either lie or do not know
I am here
staring and stroking keys
with a ghastly automation
and an inner drive to explain:
self self self self self self self self self self self self self
When there is no knowledge of its meaning.
Literature
Shamditions
is there anything worse
than insomnia?
maybe this voodoo doll
who just won't stop staring at me
or maybe it's the frustration
with myself and my inability
to go back to sleep
to write how I want
you do not rule me or my art
take your traditions and walk away
or I swear on my art
which is my life
I will rip your traditions to shreds
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Written 11/17/10 in fiction writing class.
© 2010 - 2024 seussical-love
Comments2
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As always, your descriptive writing is virtually flawless! One never has trouble "picturing" the scenes and scenarios. It's reading "incomplete" stories that I find to be rather FRUSTRATING!
On a side note; we will be in Oklahoma City over the Thanksgiving holiday. We're driving down this time. Drop me a note if you'd like to join us over a cup of coffee or the like while we are that "close" and we'll see if we can make it happen. We're leaving Monday night, most likely. God bless and have a happy Thanksgiving, in case we don't get to see you!
On a side note; we will be in Oklahoma City over the Thanksgiving holiday. We're driving down this time. Drop me a note if you'd like to join us over a cup of coffee or the like while we are that "close" and we'll see if we can make it happen. We're leaving Monday night, most likely. God bless and have a happy Thanksgiving, in case we don't get to see you!