Despite the setting sun, the air was frigid and kissed goose pimples to life, caressed strands of hair, persuading them to stand on end, and kicked dust into the air around the pair as they walked over the interstate’s asphalt. Milo shivered and shook, then looked longingly up at George and wished for a break. They had been walking for hours, stopping every so often for a release. As they stopped again, Milo wiggled in the confines of his collar. His eyes traced the black woven leash that was tied around his friend’s wrist, and looked up at George once again, who was leaning over with his hands on his knees, sobbing. Milo looked around, snarling, ready to attack whatever was hurting George. When he saw nothing was around them, he nuzzled George’s swollen leg, licking the caked dust on a pants leg. A faint metallic scent wafted around the two of them, and Milo licked more vigorously. George didn’t let up; he just hung his head, then jerked himself up and screamed an obscenity at the sky. Milo flinched, his tail between his legs. He had never heard George say something so angrily before. Milo looked down, whimpered, and stared at the dirty, broken shoes on George’s feet. A hand reached down and softly stroked Milo’s head. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.” George knelt down, holding Milo’s face close to him. He pulled out his phone, pushed buttons, and sighed. “No service.” George gave another sigh, and looked back at Milo. “We’re gonna be okay.”
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Marc scanned the email chain from his client. “Dinner should be served at seven. The attire is intentional. Don’t be alarmed.” He chalked it up to some theme party; he had catered many theme parties over his two years in the business. Walking into people’s home as a caterer had proved immensely interesting and amusing. He gathered his pots and spoons, produce and meat, into a large wooden crate and carried it to his truck.
Lucas woke up to the setting sun, surrounded by feathery reeds and tall grass, lying beside splinters of wood and a lonely wagon wheel. With trees off in the distance and the sun slowly escaping below the horizon, his stomach twisted and ached for a warm meal. The memory of his mother, standing on the wooden front porch, screaming his name as the wind swept over his face tingled his skin and filled him with sorrow. He forced himself to sit up, but pain quaked his body with the movement. His legs were held to the earth under the weight of the wagon wheel. He struggled and writhed, trying to move the wagon wheel, but it was too much for Lucas to budge. He blamed his withdrawal inside the home when his father was working outside for his lack of physical strength. Never once did Lucas venture outside to help chop wood or herd cattle, to milk cows or to mend the fence. His journey to this spot was a blur, but it slowly merged into a vivid picture as he cried, his voice carrying pain away from him and echoing back, reverberating the fire in his leg.
The children,
they think we’re lifeless, leaving us in a plastic mess-- a jumble of arms and legs, scratched out eyes replaced with pegs from toys with which they’d rather play.
Giggles. Or was it cries?
Alex couldn’t be sure. When a shadow passed inside the classroom next to him, darkness covering light for a brief moment at the bottom of a wooden door, he knew Joey must be inside. Alex ran to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He slammed his whole body into it again and again, but the door refused to open like a stubborn child. Not knowing what else to do, and disregarding the original fear of damaging school property, Alex dashed down the hallway to retrieve something, anything. He broke the glass, and waited for a brief second for the alarm to sound, but it didn’t. Alex felt his heart-rate quicken as he pulled the extinguisher from its nest, and he darted back to the classroom door, and raised the extinguisher over his head like the hammer of a god. With as much force as he could muster, Alex brought the extinguisher down onto the doorknob, which broke into several pieces as it clanked onto the tiled floor, and the door sprang open with so much force that it shattered against the walls inside.
The journey in the jar flashed as a blurred collage of trees, doorways, light bulbs and so much giggling that Pim felt as though he’d never laugh again. The jar was much taller than Pim, and it towered over him, swallowing him three-fold. The light-brown hands that held his prison moved away once he was set on a pale, flat surface. A human kitchen? Pim thought. Oh no! She’s going to eat me! She’s going to chop me up and eat me! Or worse--she’s going to swallow me whole. Pim nervously rocked himself back and forth in a fetal position at the bottom of the jar, clutching his knapsack, all while a pair of curious, dark-brown eyes peaked through the glass jar. The little girl gleefully wondered what it was she had captured. An ant? A worm? No, worms don’t have legs. And it looks like a person--an alien?! But it’s so small.
Pim grunted as he climbed the rugged edge of the stone cliff. His tiny fingers, even small for his own size in the world, struggled for a firm grip. As he crested the final edge, though, and witnessed the sun rise over the blades of grass, Pim’s body felt light as air. That was until he realized he was about to float directly into the lawn mower that was coming right for him. Pim jumped down into a patch of moss, clinging tight to the firm roots as the lawn mower passed over. The rock lifted and clanked around before flying through the air and landing on the wooden planks of the humans’ porch. Pim fell from the moss as it landed, and wretched with dizziness once he was finally able to stand. Then he passed out.
When he opened his eyes, he noticed two human boys running on the porch, each one holding something that glistened in the now-setting sun. He felt his head throb from the shimmers, and he began to wipe his eyes. He didn’t notice the boys coming near him, and when one of them stepped on the rock and tripped, Pim was blown back with a gust from the fall. When Pim tried to run, one of the boys saw him, and quickly planted a silver fork into the wood, right in front of Pim, then scooped him up in a silvery bowl-like thing. “Johnny! Johnny! Gimme your magnifier! You gotta see this!”
~Placed 2nd in the Mutant 750 Challenge #39 at Grammar Ghoul Press~
Suzanne called it a "creative, well-paced, and nightmare-inducing piece"!
Mary opened her eyes to dark clouds peeking through the blinds in her room. The sun was completely hidden, and rain was drizzling down her window. Mary couldn’t move her hands, and her arms were tied down with fabric bands and Velcro. The claw marks over her eyes were scabbed with dried blood, and her broken fingernails were beginning to heal.
Sedatives were keeping Mary still. Even as thunder clapped and roared repeatedly overhead, Mary didn’t budge. For three days the world outside was wet and wild with storms, but Mary hardly recognized as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Mary’s eyes sprang open when a hand suddenly grabbed her head, bending her neck to near breakage. “Let’s watch cartoons, huh?” The room opened to a myriad of blurry hues as Mary tried to regain consciousness. The hand slipped from her head to the remote that sat beside her bed, and the television popped on with a fuzz, buzzing her ears and goosing her skin. As Mary’s field of vision steadied, she saw channel after channel wobble in and out of focus, until the surfing finally stopped on a cartoon. Mary watched as two men waged war with carrots, fighting over who would get the bunny rabbit that was living in the grassy field. When she saw the carrot cake, she felt a jab in her stomach--a tinge of hunger from days with only fluids through an IV drip. When the giant carrot appeared, Mary wanted to smile, but the sedation was like paralysis for her. As sleep began to call, Mary’s head tilted to the side, and her eyes locked with his.
Ian smiled as the chill Toronto air breezed the blood on his cheek. He had trekked the Edgewalk of the CN Tower once before, with his brother, but that was ages ago. This time, he thought, was more pleasant. Several hours had passed since Ian started his day’s adventure, and the moon was now illuminating the clouds above the city. The lights of the CN Tower still shimmered like a rainbow--a celebration for Audric’s plan.
The sirens wailed at the foot of the tower, but there was no way up but to climb. Audric had convinced Ian to detonate a bomb in the single elevator of the tower, and the bullets relinquished him of any interruptions from the patrons inside the tower. His brother, Shawn, a guide, had put up a decent effort for survival, but Audric had convinced Ian to purchase a blade. One jab to the ribs, and Shawn could struggle no more. “He splattered quite nicely”, Audric had whispered.
The sun was just cresting the horizon as Raidne witnessed another man drown at the rocks atop which she perched. Her sapphire eyes gazed into the sea as the sailor’s face vanished beneath the surface of the salty waves, and she sighed. She cast her song out like a net each day, praying for Persephone’s return, praying that she would once again cast her unworthy eyes on such rare beauty, and praying that her song would seduce rather than enchant the only god she loved, but only men flooded her shore with each invocation.
Raidne had never longed for anyone as she did for Persephone. While her sisters simply wanted retribution for Hades’ treacherous deed, Raidne wanted Persephone to hold and love her, to cast away all others and simply pass through life together until Olympus imploded. Raidne watched as Apollo lifted the sun into the dark clouds that were beginning to form. As a streak of lightning flashed, she listened closely for the clap of thunder that followed. As the winds lifted over the sea, Raidne heard the gentle strum of strings and the low growl of a man’s voice in the distance. She straightened herself and spiraled around, looking for the source of the song. The sky darkened as the clouds hung over her perch, and a sudden clap of thunder shook Raidne. She clenched her eyes from the fright. When she opened them, her eyes caught sight of a mast in the distance, and the man’s song grew louder. Raidne could not remove her eyes from the wooden vessel as it drew closer. The ship slowed as it approached her, and, when it stopped, it was but a short swim away. Raidne lifted her eyes from the hull to the deck where a man sat, strumming a lyre and singing a soft, low tune. |
Archives
March 2017
AuthorTony is actively working on several writing projects including a play, a novel, short stories and children stories. Some of these items may appear on this page, and others may appear on the store page (not active). Categories
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Awards:for "Just Like Mommy"
for "Pim & the Open Drain"
for "Pim & the Glass Jar"
for "One Drink."
for "No Prince."
for "Neither would he."
for "The Burning of Pounce"
for "Revelation, Part Two"
for "Precise Specifications"
Tony's bookshelf: favorites
This book has stuck with me since I finished reading it over three years ago. I was deeply fascinated by the story being told from the point of view of such a young child, and the way he tells the story is so viscerally devastating and b...
by Ernest Cline
From start to finish, this book had me excited! I struggled putting it down. Although many of the references went over my head (because I have yet to enjoy such nerd culture), it didn't matter. The concept and the pure exhilarating joy o...
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