Real Life

Flintholm

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He walked up the path, his eyes hazy with clouded memories.

The weeds and grass had overgrown everything, but he still could see the lay of the land, recognize landmarks from when he shrieked and climbed and ran over every inch of the property. That was back before his knees hurt, before the War, before the bombs, before everything changed and his innocence fled, never to return.

The grass beneath his feet shifted, and he looked down at the cobblestone path that lay beneath. Many of the stones were cracked and broken. He’d found a snail, once, crawling along slowly between two stones, and he spent an entire afternoon building a shelter for the little creature out of sticks and leaves. Continue reading →

Boreray

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My arms ached as I bent my back over the oars. The boat cut clumsily through the water, sending up splashes of spray whenever I hit a wave. I cursed at the oars of the blocky little rowboat, but kept on pulling.

Every now and then, I’d cast a glance over my shoulder, up at Boreray. The island, gloomy and wild, towered up out of the mist. Cliffs rose up in uneven teeth that bit at the dim sky, and birds winged constantly around their peaks, shrieking with harsh, hoarse cries.

My fate lay on Boreray. Continue reading →

Too Close to Home

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Groaning to myself, I risked another glance up at the clock, taunting me from the far wall.

Forty more minutes to go. Forty minutes until my shift ended, and I could get out of this soul-crushing office and go back home, where I’d…

Well, I didn’t really have any plans for the night. Watch some television? Crack open the last couple of beers in my fridge, finish them off? Lay on my couch and stare up at the ceiling, wondering about where my life had somehow taken a wrong turn, ending up so mundane and banal that I had to self-medicate most nights with booze in order to forget about how much everything sucked?

So many possibilities, I darkly told myself. Continue reading →

The Boogeyman

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I’ve never really gotten the hang of mornings.

Most days, I drag myself out of bed, my eyes squeezed shut as I fumble around for the damn beeping of my alarm. Once I silence the repugnant device, I sit there for a few more moments, just wishing that I could flop back down, that I didn’t need to get up for work.

Shave, brush teeth, splash some water in my sagging face in the bathroom. Pull on some khakis after running a quick check for any stains or tears, stumble downstairs to get some coffee into my still-sleepy system before departing.

I always make sure that I have enough time to sit at my kitchen table for a few minutes, just sipping at the steaming mug of brown water and caffeine. Every morning, I’m tempted to sleep through those five minutes, but I never do.

Those five minutes are my own time, the only five minutes of my life that belong to no one but me.

So when someone thumped into my kitchen and set a cup of coffee down on the other side of the table, I looked up with annoyance. My mouth started to open, an annoyed little comment on my tongue.

The words died there, shriveling up and drying my mouth until it filled with dust. Continue reading →

It Locks from the Outside

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It locks from the outside.

The rental agent mentioned that about the basement, hadn’t he? I hadn’t been listening, thinking about how getting away from it all would help me get back to my roots, let me finally finish the novel I’d been delaying. I just wanted to get the keys and head up to the cabin.

But I’d heard the scratching noise, coming from under the floorboards – an animal, trapped in the basement? I ducked into the darkness, intending to just glance around.

But the light switch didn’t work – and as I turned, I heard the door close behind me.

And click.

My phone was upstairs, and I didn’t have a flashlight, I thought as I felt around, searching for an axe, something, anything that could get me out through that door. Inside my head, I felt panic growing, pushing conscious thoughts further and further away.

I’d chosen to be alone, to retreat from society so that I wouldn’t be bothered.

The basement door locks for the outside – and now I’m trapped…

The Walking Desk

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I stumbled up the steps to my apartment, groaning at the aching in my head. I should have drank more water last night, I told myself for the fifteenth time. This hangover is killing me.

When I opened the door to my apartment, however, I paused for a second at the rhythmic sound drifting out from inside; it reminded me of a belt sander, or perhaps a saw wheel. What was going on? Was Joe, my roommate, working on some sort of project?

I stepped inside – and found my living room transformed. Continue reading →

Finish What He Started

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“You’re kidding me.”

I stared across the little living room at the sour-faced, shriveled old man sitting on the couch, my uncle’s will held in his claw-like little hands. I heard his words bouncing around in my head, but they still didn’t make sense.

“I assure you, Miss Tate, I’m not joking,” the lawyer repeated stiffly, regarding me with a combination of annoyance and patient disgust. “As I said, the will stipulates that you will be left five million dollars, if you finish what your uncle started.”

“But Uncle Ryan…” I trailed off, trying to make sense of it all. “Where did he even get five million dollars from? He worked up until he died! My parents told me that he could barely afford to keep his house, that he’d have lost it if it wasn’t for my helping him with the rent!” Continue reading →

Turncoat

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I grimaced as I followed the young man into the palatial mansion. The man couldn’t be older than seventeen, and his scrawny frame looked barely capable of handling the scratched and battered AK-47 in his hands.

Even inside the house, with banks of air conditioners likely running at full steam, the oppressive tropical heat still left me sweating in my suit. The fabric was light, but I reached up and loosened my tie by slipping a finger in between it and my collar. My feet felt uncomfortably damp in my leather shoes.

We came around the corner, and there he was, lounging in an armchair, holding a glass of some dark liquid in one hand and smiling up at me through flat eyes. “Ah, the turncoat arrives,” he greeted me, grinning fiercely. Continue reading →

A Company Is Born

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I glared around at my friends. “Focus, would you?” I grumbled. “Stop goofing around!”

“That should be our focus!” Jimmy shouted, from where he lay slumped over the arm of my couch. “Goofing Around, Incorporated! Throw me another beer, would you? Do you have any food? Freaking starving, man.”

“Look, I still don’t understand what we’re doing here,” Nelson piped up from his seat on the floor, pushing at his glasses. It was a futile gesture, as they immediately slid back down his nose, but he kept on doing it anyway.

I sighed, rubbing my face. “For the last time, we’re starting a company!” Continue reading →

A relationship is dying.

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“You know, I almost laughed the other day.”

Her eyes focused a little, panned over to me. “Why?”

“Well, I was walking through the halls out there, just getting some exercise. Stretching my legs.” I gestured at the door to her room. It was propped open; she told me that she liked watching the nurses bustle about, running on their errands.

“And?”

Her eyes still looked bright, alive. I loved those eyes, no matter how the rest of her body shrank and withered. “Well, I thought to myself that I could probably walk through the hallways with my eyes closed, by now. I think I’ve memorized the entire layout of the hospital.” Continue reading →