The garbage smelled like rotting flesh. Mostly, because underneath the tissues, the cotton swabs, the empty bottle of toothpaste, the tampon wrappers and depositories there was a heap of flesh that happened to be rotting.
Dirty Roads of Pequak (Chuck)
Sitting down on the edge of his bed he opened the drawer of the his nightstand. He had two books to choose from. One was a school book, the other had been sent to him by his pen pal. He hadn’t been sure about it when she first told him about it and then sent it over. It seemed to be a book for girls. But she swore line after line that it was just a really good book. Not for girls, or for boys, just for anyone who had feelings and more for anyone who had trouble dealing with them. Chuck picked it up and held it under his nose. It smelled like a regular book, but with something else. He imagined it was what his pen pal smelled like. It wasn’t sweet, but it smelled good. Almost as good as when his mama baked her special desserts for his pop. There was something almost nutty about the smell. Whatever it was blended in so well with the book smell he couldn’t be certain, but it thought it could be cinnamon. Maybe nutmeg. He’d have to ask his mama what type of things she used in her baking to know for sure. Chuck liked to think it was because his pen pal also baked. His pop always said there was nothing better in this world than a woman who could bake.
Scraps of You
“You’ve become a chapter in a book I’ve never wanted to write. While I don’t regret our story, I’m more than ready to return it back to the library of life and never revisit it. Feel free to keep the pictures, I took the only things worth keeping from the collection.” Stephen crumbled the note…
Dirty Roads In Pequak
Not for Hank though. Hank was very familiar with the bodies of young women. As a medical assistant who used to work at a clinic he had seen thousands of them. As a once-predator he had seen maybe seen dozens. Even for him the splayed opened body of the young woman was revolting. Her body clearly dismembered and on display in the middle of the street was horrifying.
Fade to Fever
Deb had finally gotten her life back to almost normal after years of a permanently uphill both ways kind of trek. Theo had been dead for three years. The investigation had been closed for two years and six months. The media coverage had been over for two year years. Deb’s grief had subsided drastically over the past year. She had finished her MBA and had started her new job, in her new town, with some new work clothes and even some new workout clothes for her new hobby, running. Deb had just been getting into the swing of things at work and with her running when she was hit with the flu.
Brownie Surprise
I almost feel bad. I opened this email to compose my thoughts to you, and instead I’ve done nothing but talk about this bitch from the coffee shop who has desecrated the integrity of a true writer and certain percentages of humanity. Not that I’m a true writer. Having a slew of published short stories and a free online blog, does not make someone a true writer. However, it does make my judging her a little more appropriate, and adds a whole new level of humor to her private phone conversation being loudly spoken in the middle of a coffee shop. By no means am I being hypocritical either, I like to do my writing at the library or at your house, which is where I’m supposed to be headed, but I stopped here to get a cup of coffee and potentially a brownie – I heard one of my favorite baristas was working. She always under cooks a brownie and sets it aside for me when she works the morning shifts.
Watching Delilah
Watching her from a far doing the things that made her happiest – reading, writing, driving around, taking hikes through the local mountain ranges, going out with her friends, drinking at bars, dancing with strange men, men who were her friends, all men who were older than she was. All those things and more gave him a sense of unrest, a sense of weary, a sense that she was putting herself out there too much, giving the world too much of herself, and certainly – he assumed – giving too much of herself away to the men around her.
Emily Weeps
It had started like a clown making a balloon animal.
There was the suspense of what the configuration would end up being: a dog, a horse, a princess crown, maybe even a sword. Because only in the world of balloon animals were a sword and a crown counted as such. While the pieces were all being built the imagination was free to form whatever ideas it could muster. Balloons being picked out of a large supply, stretched, warmed out, filled out. Then they were blown up – almost ready to form something larger than itself. Something that was supposed to bring joy to another person, regardless of their age or fears. Because even people afraid of balloons or clowns overlooked irrational fears when given a balloon animal. Right when everything was getting ready to come together, right as the shape was transitioning from an outline to an actually being that’s when the balloons popped, ending all of the fun.
Penny, Deranged
According to Penny’s father not only was she not doing well, she was doing awful. According to him Penny hadn’t left her bedroom in three weeks. The fact that he left for work before four in the morning and returned around one in the afternoon had no bearing on the situation. Penny argued it was all horseshit. She couldn’t quite remember all of the last three weeks, but Penny had a terrible sense of time. She knew she had stayed in this weekend. The week had been exhausting. So many social gatherings and events – sometimes it was just too much for Penny.
Her Life After
She was finding it hard to sleep. The excitement was coating through her, and the blue light from her phone wasn’t helping either. It was worst than when she was a child and this supposed Santa was coming to bring her gifts overnight. This was something else all together. This was the start of her life after. Evie had originally been sad her grand gesture had been to make his other girlfriends go away, not to have him die. Now that he was dead she could expand upon her plan. She wouldn’t have much time. Murder didn’t seem like something Evie could possibly get away with, but she could make the best out of a bad situation. Her two biggest planning concerns were shipping vs. hand delivery, and who got what of his remains.