Watch Your Back
It’s never clear who has control up there. Who is sending down these precious snowflakes? The rain drops that ruin my favorite leather shoes? The hail from the sky that broke my car windows? As soon as I find out, I’m going to rent a rocket and punch them in the face.
The yelps suffocated the room. “Get them out of here!” “But…” “OUT! OUT! OUT!” “Where?” “The incinerators!” “Yes, my lady.” But he stopped. He couldn’t do it. He would keep them. He didn’t care what she did to him, because they were only puppies. Just babies. One day they would grow strong and help...
“Hey you,” the clouds yelled from their cozy nook in the sky. “You look lonely. Would you like a friend?” The boy nodded his head in delight. His wishes had been heard after all. “Just remember, kid, no take-backs.” His friend arrived the next day in a basket on his back door. Inside was a small, neon pixelated mass. “Hey, fuck you, man. I was...
Modern Love Story
I like your likes. I fave your faves. I reblog your blogs and I dig your Diggs. If only you would Stumble Upon me.
"Poppin' Bottles in the Ice, like a Blizzard"
The snow drifted East before settling on a shoveled pathway. It threw a party there and soon it become a rager. Thunder showed up with the keg. Storm Cloud brought the tequila. Cumulus brought his record player. The snowflakes hogged the bathroom and the snow swayed with the music. It was 2am when Mother Nature showed up with the noise violation, but by then, the place was trashed and it would...
“I don’t think she likes you. Sorry, dude.” “Wait? You asked her if she liked me.” “You didn’t want me to?” “Well, considering I have a crush on Stephen and not Stephanie, I’d say that news actually comes as a relief.”
The smell never goes away. The air only shrinks around you until you vaporize completely. You’re nothing but a pile of dust and the smog grows bigger. The planet dies. The animals frolic and no one knows a thing. It was me, Gregory, that possessed the magics to call upon the gods to destroy the humans. They were a big, fat mess. I don’t speak English, but I got the DVD with subtitles...
Dear Readers, It’s with great pleasure I inform you that it’s Tuesday again. We have made it past the most dreadful day of the week. I can hear your audible sigh of relief. Now that I know you’re in good spirits, let me ask a favor. Please RECOMMEND Fake Persona for the creative writing directory. I would appreciate your help in this matter. I leave you with thanks and short...
Space Invaders: Why you should never, ever use two... →
When he woke up he realized it wasn’t a nightmare. It was true. He was a dip.
Creativity is an ode to life. It is not a form of entertainment. It is a form of...– Wynn Bullock, photographer of “Child in Forest” (1951) and “Let There Be Light” (1954). (via photonfantastic)
His lips tasted salty like stale peanuts. His breathe was strong with beer. His hair was unwashed and sweaty. My fingers sticking in his matted tangles. His clothes reeked of piss and vinegar. I just couldn’t do it. Not even for a thousand dollars. Hobo sex would never be sexy.
Arnold’s sweat smelled like cat food. That was the real reason why his lovers never stayed for long.
He was never truly alone. There were the lights around the tree, the glow from the fireplace and of course, his carrot nose. It’s just too bad that he wouldn’t last long in the candy dish.
The Price of Freedom
The forest couldn’t contain him. The trees held him back with their branches, but he gnashed them raw, leaving them weeping and helpless. He roared. The boulders showed up. They rolled, he rocked and they crumbled into gravel. They were nothing but a Zen garden now. He could see the yellow lines on the main road, pointing him in either direction, because the direction didn’t...
& You're Up
She tastes like Wonderbread and we don’t stop till we’ve squished into one giant loaf. We’re one. She is my left, right and center and baseball will never be the same again.
He counted to five. He counted to seven. He counted to five. A blessing to a lost art form. A poetic prayer consisting in nothing more than zeros and ones. A numerical index that even Bill Gates couldn’t decipher. When the clouds parted, the sky was black. The clouds tinted red with doom. These weren’t shadows. He had opened Hell to ask a question. “Are you hiring?”
Hello readers! It’s Tuesday again. Please recommend Fake Persona for the creative writing directory. I really appreciate it!
As a girl she wasn’t taught to pray to God. She wasn’t raised with religious beliefs, but instinctively, she found herself looking up at the clouds thinking about the meaning of life. When would her mother come home? Where was daddy? Was the fire her fault? Would it hurt like this forever? She looked down at her scarred body, looked back up expecting to find calming blue sky, but...
“There’s no good way to tell you this, Mrs. Jones.” “Really? That bad?” “I’m just going to say it. You’re going to live!” “What? My god. This is terrible.”
Does It Work?
“What’s this?” “It’s purrs.” “What?” “You know, liquid purrs, for when you’re feeling down and need a bit of a pick-me-up.”
It Ends Here
It’s quiet this morning. The shovels have stopped scraping against the sidewalks. But it’s everywhere. The snow doesn’t stop even after the sky has stopped crying. The evidence in our face, under our shoes and stalling our cars. The slush, the ice and the snowballs. Who is she seeking vengeance on? I’m going to find that bastard and kill him myself.
When I ride the train, I’m not myself. I look around at all the faces and realize no one knows me. No one knows my face. No one knows my smile. No one knows my voice. No one knows my name. We’re strangers. We’re nobodies. A entire subway car of nobodies all sharing mutual annoyance at that one guy that has his music just a little too loud. Some of us don’t notice. Some...
The madness never stops. The hats are tall, tea cups are raised and the party goes on well after midnight. Who is invited? You, of course.
Leonard always told people we met when I saved him from his burning cabin in the woods. The problem was that it wasn’t me. The fire happened, but I wasn’t there. I was several states away asking my wife for a divorce. Who saved him? A yeti. He just won’t admit it. Not even when the yeti sends birthday cards. You’ll never meet a more stand-up guy than Frank. Leonard...
Hello readers! I hope you’re having a fine Tuesday. You can make mine fine by recommending Fake Persona for the creative writing directory. Thanks!
On their very last day together, he melted into a puddle. It wasn’t the way he wanted it to end, but you don’t really have much choice when you’re a snowman.
Penelope “Tulip” Periwinkle was an unsual girl. She could see into the future. Her dreams were like a day planner on what to do and what not to do. She couldn’t predict earthquakes, world wars or anything that the government might find useful. Instead, she found out her boyfriend was going to break up with her two weeks before it happened. It happened just like in the dream, but...
The air was full of marshmallows, the road lined with candy canes and the streets filled with gingerbread children. It was a wonderful day to have a sweet tooth.
The seat next to me was still warm. I switched seats longing to feel the warmth of a stranger. For one little moment I felt like we could be friends or enemies or lovers. It’s like opening your bed to a one night stand. In the morning, they’re gone, but you can still feel them between your legs a few days later. The smell in your sheets. Their hair in your bathtub drain. I longed to be...
Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One...– Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via supprosetry)
It comes down in flakes. Slow and steady and it’s beautiful at first. The wind swirls it like a ballerina. It collects in heaps, corners and piles. Every single inch is touched, caressed and loved by her cool touch. The world is new again. A clean slate. It almost feels safe again. A big frozen nothingness and every little thing feels fresh on our lips. Then the plows come and it goes to...
Background on The Great Heffalump
I’m sure by now most of you are used to my weirder stories. Every thing doesn’t make sense in my head and sometimes I connect two totally opposing things. The Great Heffalump has nothing to do with Winnie the Pooh, but a lot to do with my very large and overweight cat. I started calling him that because he’s gray and sits around like a lump. The nickname stuck. A month ago, I...
The Great Heffalump: Part 2
Out of doors, Trouble perked up his ears to listen. Nothing. Nada. No one out there. There was a teacup chihuahua in the distance, peeing behind a light post, but nothing out of the ordinary. He roamed. He weaved between parked cars, looking underneath to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Maybe someone had dropped a baby? Or better yet…a hotdog! Again, nothing. The night was...
The Great Heffalump: Part 1
He was a big gray lump to most people. Pat pat there. Pat pat here. He was a cat afterall. But underneath that hairy exterior was a beast. A lion. He was the GREAT HEFFALUMP. A superhero that couldn’t be stopped, no matter how much food he had eaten for breakfast. Trouble was his real name. Funny since he was merely curious and avoided trouble in his day job. A little nap there. A little...
Happy New Year! This is your Tueday reminder to recommend Fake Persona for the creative writing directory. 2011 readers in 2011? Maybe that’s thinking TOO BIG!
The Electronical Rattle Bag: Ghosted →
ekstasis: 1. Long, loose, spindly, green stalks with their few leaves, bug-eaten tatters on which a black monarch sits, folding and unfolding its wings. 2. A friend’s funeral has broken up – or was that the last dream? Now I’m struggling between monuments, looking for Chuck. It’s getting dark and I’m pissed off because he won’t answer his cell. 3. On the wall in a coffee...
Her rain soaked clothes clung to her body, announcing her curves to the world. Hello, popstar! She was embarrassed by how much she liked the attention. She bowed her head and asked for a table in the back. No one recognized her but the paparazzi. Her freckles always gave her away. They never hid in the shadows. Always pronounced and she couldn’t bare conceal them. Her pop-pop told her they...
The night was stale and soggy. He was close and I knew there was no time to run. Instead, I shot into the darkness, aiming with no purpose but to make noise. “You missed,” he said, rounding the corner into the alley. His face haloed by street lights. “I know,” I said, backing up, feeling against the wall for my way out. “You know there’s no escape.” He...
I woke up to fuzz. The blur in front of my eyes. Nothing was clear. The focus had disappeared over night. Bright light. Low light. It didn’t matter. Then at night, my eyes narrowed in on my prey and it was the first sign that my eyes weren’t fucked. I could see her across the table. Blonde, blue eyes with legs that went on and on. I wanted to rip the stockings right off her. I...