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Archive for October, 2011

No Zombies Here!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 30, 2011| 2 Comments »

I heard someone utter this old cliche, and thought to myself, “What if?”

Getting Out Alive

They say you can’t do that, right? If you’re wondering what I’m talkin’ about, review the title again and come right back. It’s ok, I’ll wait. I have all eternity you see . . .

Well, sort of. I’m kinda what you’d call “skin and bones” at this point . . . minus the skin. I do still have some tendons intact, but mostly just the bones.  But, the good news is, I got out alive!

Don’t worry, I don’t eat brains. This isn’t a zombie tale. Of course maybe that’s why I’ve lost so much weight lately . . .

I got shot in the head, woke up in a morgue, walked out past a horrified coroner, and have been enjoying after-life on Earth the last several months. Right now I’m lucky it’s Halloween time; a decaying, bloated, maggot-invested body just isn’t as warmly received at labor-day time, I’ll tell you what!

At first I figured the bullet in my head was merely a flesh wound. That nothing serious had been harmed in the process, and that even the doctors had been fooled for a moment. About a couple days after walking around though, once the beetles started following me everywhere, I started to get the impression that there might be something medically wrong with me. I was happy, however, when I awoke on day three and couldn’t feel the maggots that were eating my eyeball out. I immediately sprayed the other eye thoroughly with bug poisons so that I wouldn’t lose my sense of sight.

Oh, and as for that bullet, this isn’t a revenge story. I was back-packing through a Nevada desert while someone a mile-and-a-half off was shooting for fun, and, let’s just say it’s a good idea to plan one’s route really well when traveling through an American desert by foot! So, I never even met the bloke, or blokette. Naw, this is just to state that I did make it out alive.

And I don’t have any kind of science to back me. As far as I know, I’m the only one, and apparently for no good reason. I wasn’t wandering through an Indian reservation. No Gypsies handed me a cursed amulet before I left Hoboken. I don’t feel the need to feast on brains. In fact, the one thing I tried to eat after I should have died was a steak. The maggots just came quicker when I tried to eat though.

So, the point? I’m just trying to document an odd occurrence before the beetles finish eating through my tendons in the middle of the night when I’m asleep, and I awaken with no way to move. I’ve made appointments with a few doctors in the coming days so that I can be examined by scientists and they can work out the particulars of what defies explanation. But first, I’m going to a Halloween party. There I’ll be accepted for a few hours. The truth is you just can’t make out with a cute girl if you have no lips to kiss, which is a shame. Once they see me drinking the punch, and it going right through my bones, I’m sure I’ll garner some curiosity from the fairer sex . . . I do feel bad for the host who gets to clean up after me of course, but, on the up side, at least I don’t have any more rotting skin that can fall off of me. A little liquid seems a small price to pay to play host to the life of the party, Moi!

Happy Halloween everybody! I look forward to what I am once I have not even bones to tie me down!

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Metaphor to the Nth

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 22, 2011| Leave a Comment »

I’m really enjoying this form of writing only in dialogue. It’s rather fun. Does anyone know of any other authors who wrote stories entirely in dialogue? I figure this can’t be a new thing . . .

A Toast!

“Love? Is that really all you think about?”

“Well, I tried thinking about controlling anything in my life once, but that never went very well. I seem to recall finding myself watching a lot more horror movies when I did. That, and I always wound up burning the toast. I’ve simply come to the conclusion that I’m the kind of guy who prefers toast under-done than over-done.”

“I was being serious.”

“So was I. I mean, I also hear that eating burnt things ups your chances of cancer, but really I prefer the taste of non-burnt toast, and that’s really most of the determining factor.”

“So you actually think about things other than love; at least, toast-wise.”

“Nah, I figure they go hand-in-hand. I mean, If I’m thinking about non-burnt toast, I’m thinking about Love. Actually, it’s more like if I’m eating non-burnt toast I figure I’m on a better track for having something closer to Love. Really what I think about is perfectly toasted toast, and I figure when my toast is finally just right, so too will be the ripening of the flower of my heart. And yes, I realize how that sounded . . . shut up.”

“So, that flower wouldn’t happen to be a pansy by chance?”

“I said shut up. But seriously, the problem is I don’t own a toaster. Trying to get one’s toast just right, in this old conventional oven, is a bee-atch. Now I once saw the perfect toaster, but it was way out of my price range. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for that toaster . . . aside from getting a job, which, I was too stoned at the time to do. Add in one more factor for why I kept burning the toast! I would stick it in the oven then forget it was in there. Hell, I didn’t even have the cash for an egg-timer to make sure my bread didn’t burn. My friend gave me the pot I was smoking for free, you see–”

“I’m sorry, we’ve stopped talking about your love life by now, right? I mean, if you don’t start talking about jelly or something, I think I’m going to have to blugeon myself to death with a rolling pin.”

“Yes, I’m still talking about Love. What I mean to say is that the toast is a basis for measuring my capacity to accept, and for that matter create, love in my life. Believe you me, I’m looking forward to getting some jelly on my toast like nobodies business! And some butter too! My thoughts on toast are only so that it’ll be perfect for spreading that butter; then gettin’ my jelly on. Marmalade! Or in my case I’ll probably start with cherry. It’s gonna be sweet though . . .”

“Okay, I’m leaving now. This talk of spreading butter is starting to get to my stomach.”

“I think you’re just gettin’ hungry. I’ll bet you just want me to spread you some butter!”

“Goodbye Dave!”

“Bye Charlene. Meet for tea same time tomorrow?”

“As long as you keep your marmalade in your pants. . . you got a date.”

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Thanksgiving in October . . .

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 15, 2011| 7 Comments »

A customer suggested I try a flash-fiction writing contest. I’d have written another besides, but it’s no lie that five hundred words, some weeks, is harder than others. Anyway, this was what came to mind. Wish me luck!

Eating Crow

“Drumstick please.”

“Sure, sure, let me just saw the elbow in half so’s you don’t get the thigh too.”

“I doubt if ‘elbow’ is the right way to speak of the joint where leg meets thigh on a bird. However, I think I’ve always just assumed the thigh comes with the drumstick, at least, that’s the way it always used to be at my house.”

“Wow, that’s a lotta bird for one person. Assuming you’re talkin’ about Turkey of course, Professor . . .”

“I told you, call me Steve. Anyway, yes, we were a traditional household when it came to Thanksgiving. I’m not complaining mind you.”

“Your wife leaves ya because you lose your job, she takes the kids half way across the country, and everything else you own. She doesn’t think twice about leaving you to starve in a gutter. What have ya not to complain about? Hell, the only reason you’re spendin’ Thanksgiving with some bum like me is that your car’s broke down and you got tired half-way through a twenty-mile walk to the gas station. I mean, seriously, what goes right in your life?”

“Before losing my job, philosophy was my subject. First off, I’m lucky to know what so many great minds would think about a situation like mine. But secondly, if after life falls apart because, quite frankly, I’ve made some rather stupid blunders in choosing a wife who couldn’t be in it for the long haul, and not filling my tank when I had the chance, it’s rather spectacularly beautiful, if not downright gracious of life, to offer up some good company and a hot meal to take the edge off the pain that, quite frankly, I’ve been causing myself lately.

“I mean, where I am , this really is luck. Not only is being here the first boon I’ve had in a while, but it’s also allowing me the opportunity to see what kind of bliss-filled blindness I’ve kept myself in for far longer than I should have if I’d cared properly for myself to begin with. Mr. Schmidt, this moment marks a new beginning for me!”

“You’ll pardon my skepticism professor, but this certainly seems like a far cry from lucky to me. Of course, I kinda live this way professionally.”

“Well, Mr. Schmidt, you certainly demonstrate a penchant for survival. And you are certainly gracious and hospitable to say the least. Again, my gratitude to you. When this night is through I’ll be on my way to starting over. I’ll be happy to extend a new beginning to you as well, if you’re open to changing profession.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you Professor, but we’d better see what it looks like once you’ve got yourself back on track first . . .”

“You’re right at that Mr. Schmidt. In the meantime, gratitude is all I can know this night of thanks giving. If you would pass that crow’s leg over now, I’ll be ever grateful just for sharing this meal with you tonight.

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Under the Sea . . .

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 9, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Light Penetrates
Alone in a small sail boat bobbing upon the waves. They rolled under the boat causing it to sway as the wind blew in the sail. All alone he sat and wondered if his legs would ever find rest upon the land, but there was no land in sight. Suddenly the waves began to part all around him, in every direction. This was no whirl pool as in tales of old; he was not spinning, the boat was lowering as a solid wall of water surrounded him; a cylinder made apparently by its own will, no physical structure holding the water in place as the walls rose, and the boat lowered further.
Finally, the boat had no further it could go, the ocean’s floor apparently exposed and dry as a bone. Straight up, light came through this tunnel as though from a great distance. He decided that between his two choices he’d allow the notion of terror that several tons of sea could fall upon him at any moment, crushing him if not drowning him, to be pushed aside by the wonder that the water was not falling, he had the most amazing view he could not fathom having, and what he did next with a situation hitherto incomprehensible was in the palm of his hand. He felt peace to be at the bottom of the enormity of unexpected splendor. The fish on the other side of the wall of water seemed almost to blink at him; he considered this might be what it felt like to be on the other side of the aquarium’s wall.
Since up was not at present an option, and he did not know how long time would hold the entirety of the ocean at bay before the notion he dare not consider, but from the periphery of his mind, come to fruition and he find himself crushed or drowned, he decided before fate choose the ending of his story, he might as well have a look around. And so he stepped off the boat, and onto the very dry ocean bed. His legs found themselves more stable upon the land, at rest from the bobbing and rolling. Unused to not having the feeling, the ghost of the feeling lingering, but at rest and getting used to something firmer, no matter how temporary. He took a step toward the wall of water surrounding him.
As he took a step forward, it seemed that the water maintained the exact same distance before him. And so he stepped again and again, and no change. Looking back, the water behind him also maintained its distance from him, but now seemed closer to the boat than it had been before. As he took two steps toward the boat, so too did the water move from it the same length as his stride. For a moment he considered what fate may befall his craft once he walk a radius away from where it sat, useless upon dry ground. He began again walking forward, from the boat, without looking back; until the water reached his craft. And his gaze touched the ship just in time to see the life-vest rise quickly from where it sat on the boat as the water overcame the vessel. Whether it would be worthy of continuing a voyage once he walked back and it found itself again dry, he did not know; he doubted it, and doubted that his craft might find any safe way again to the water’s surface that a journey might be made. He continued to walk forward, the ship was now no concern of his.
He felt to keep walking forward. There was no thought in his head as to where he was going, in what direction he was heading; he just walked. The fish swam around the cylinder as he made his way forward on dry ground. He felt it was right, he didn’t think about it. He enjoyed the beauty surrounding him. And he walked until he came to a space in which coral formed a path. The coral was only two feet above the ground, and he hadn’t noticed the shape that was formed between the coral expanse until it was at his feet; between the coral a path three-and-a-half feet or so wide. He followed between the coral field as though he was arriving somewhere, and the path he found was to bring him where he ought to be. His thought turned to anticipation of the uncertainty of further miracle. He walked further.
As he walked he saw a shimmer in the water ahead, a golden shimmer. And now he perceived more light through the water ahead and upward, as though the color of the water lightened directly ahead unlike the darkness traveling beside him. As the water met with the place where the shimmer was coming, as the water receded from where the shimmer met his radius, a door of solid gold was revealed; the knob as though filled with all colors dancing amongst themselves within the knob. Above him he saw that beyond the door, apparently his cylinder connected now with another cylinder standing stationary beyond this door. Something in him hesitated to take the living colors into his hand that he might enter, for all existence now was new to him and he knew not what anything meant, but he could not consider any direction but that which was directly in front of him.
As his hand reached toward the knob he found himself dissolving into it as the door filled with light. Bright light opened and departed to reveal no barrier between his circle of water from ocean floor to sky, and another circle just as his, joined at the radius. As he walked forward, so did the circles combine.
She smiled warmly upon him, and assured him first and foremost that she hadn’t been waiting long. He stopped midway to her and stared, feeling awkward to gaze without flinching upon her beauty, though not wanting to look away, and so allowing himself to as the peculiarity of the entirety of his situation seemed to permit him allowance in the moment of the time. And she spoke more as she began to stand from the object upon which she sat.
“I did not wish to return quickly with my fish to my village, and daydreaming, I think my boat went further than I had thought. But I had longed for time to myself that my mind might rest. And then my boat descended, and as the water was not crashing down upon me, I was grateful. I took some basic gear with me that I might fish. Seeing the fish swimming around me, I knew I’d never be hungry, fishing here would be easier than shooting them in a barrel. And I realized it was not that I wished to be alone, merely that I could be quiet in the company of another, something I never experienced, but felt with all my being would bring me peace of existence. And so I enjoyed fishing here for several hours until I felt light, peace, and harmony wash over me. I felt warmth throughout me as though I was not alone.”
She stepped toward him with her pole in hand. “Until I arrived here, I did not know I had been waiting for you. Once you arrived here, I knew there was no other reason for my existence but to find myself where I am. I’d apologize, but there is no fault to be had.” She walked close to him and took his hand into hers. Into his eyes she melted her own gaze. “Merely thank you for existing, I am so glad to meet you now.”
These last words spoken, there, where they found themself, so was the circle surrounding them perfect.

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Bills Stacking Up . . .

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 1, 2011| Leave a Comment »

I was hoping to post one I wrote earlier, but, while I’m still working out the kinks of the new machine, this one’ll have to do for now. I find my writing lately to be rather personal, but I think it’s all coming out rather entertaining nonetheless. May you enjoy!

Pile of Bills

The stack of bills had cornered me in the alleyway as it slowly closed in. The massive pile was no less than ten feet high, six feet across, and aside from the numbers of amounts due, and names of debt collectors, the one discernible feature of this gigantic creature was its huge, gaping mouth taking up almost the entire length of it body. I crouched down against the brick wall at the end of the alleyway, filled with terror, as the creature made up of the piles of my bills slowly made its way forward to devour me. It’s shadow engulfed me as its body loomed overhead, the thing no more than four feet away. Then, at the very top of this stack of debt, two piles rose above its mouth on either side, as though forming something like eyes. It stopped its forward movement, “looked” down at me, and spoke, “Really?”

I awoke in a cold sweat. It was six-o-clock in the morning, and I didn’t have to be awake for work for another hour. I thought about my desk where my bills lay in wait for me in the next room, and, begrudgingly, tried to force myself back to sleep. I tossed and turned, and maybe was able to get another 20 minutes when, groggy, I awoke to the piercing shriek of my alarm clock.

I hurried passed the room containing my desk as I got myself ready for work. Shower, shave, quick breakfast, and to my car for a full day of drudgery that I could be grateful for; something to keep the real stack of bills at bay. And, today was payday. It was some peace of mind while in transit to remember that even as I was driving, something was being added to my account with which I could beat off the stack of bills, at least temporarily . . .

When I got home that night I went to my office space so that I could see the effect my last week of efforts had made on my account, and see what I could offer my ever-hungry pile of bills.

I logged onto my computer and went to my bank’s website. As I was looking at what I had in my checking account, and contemplated who I could afford to pay something to this week, I heard a voice come from the side of my desk, “Seriously?”

A chill went through me as I froze. Ever-so-slowly I looked to where the sound had seemed to come, there at the left-most part of my desk where my stack of bills lay.

“Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you!” It spoke, I saw it! Two “Cs” for eyes with slashes over them for eyebrows. Zeros made up its mouth as it seemed to seperate itself from the piece of paper under it as it spoke. “Look pal, I’m all of three different pieces of paper. Stop lookin’ at me as though I’m about to chew off your flesh and spit out your bones! I don’t even have teeth for cryin’ out loud!”

What could I say? On the one hand it had a point. On the other hand, it was speaking to me!

“Look, I could understand you cowering if I was ten-feet tall and nothing but a mouth, but come on! And speaking of ten feet with a mouth, I’m all of three loans! I know, I know, student loan, car loan, and waaaaay too much on your credit card, so you’ll be paying me off for a while, but I’m barely three pieces of paper! How the heck can even your subconscious make me out to be ten-feet high? I mean, really?”

“Okay, so maybe you’re not that scarey, but you’re inanimate. It’s still pretty creepy that you’re talking to me . . .”

“Yeah, well, let’s make it a one-time thing, eh? Look, you’re young, your credits good, your job let’s you pay off at least the minimums, and eat, and have a roof. What are you worried about? By the time you’re done payin’ me off you’ll be able to buy a house your credit will be so good! You don’t need to sell your leg so you can buy somethin’ to eat tomorrow. Relax, would’cha? “

Despite the weight I felt on my shoulders, the years worth of work those three little slips of paper represented, it was right; I certainly wasn’t about to go hungry. Nor was I going to have to give up the new CD I wanted to buy, or the concert tickets. I shrugged, looked at the creepy mini-stack and said sincerely, “Thank you for putting yourself in perspective. I guess you’re really helping me grow in every way possible even if I do think you’re a little loomy . . . and creepy when you start talking to me when I was pretty sure you weren’t capable of doing that. And by the way, please tell me you’re the only inanimate object capable of speech . . .”

“Like I said a one-time thing, don’t mention it. As far as anything else ‘inanimate’ speaking to you goes, let’s just say it’d be a good idea to clean out your fridge, or else something legitimately taller than you, talking to you, might give you a heart-attack . . .”

And I did clean my refrigerator out that night . . . thoroughly. And I’ve kept it clean ever since. Quite frankly, I never have been able to look at an inanimate object the same way, but thankfully, neither have I ever been quite so anxious for the bills to stop coming.

As I finished writing this story, this was the song playing in my head.

Namaste!

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