Monday, January 11th, 2010
I stare. I can see the bowls. The man in white dumps out yesterday’s water. I am disappointed. A fly drowned in the bowl yesterday. The fly promised that if I could get there, I would get a drink and a tasty morsel. He pours in fresh water. I watch to see if anything spills. My tongue is so dry. He puts fresh chunks of meat into the other bowl. I can smell it. Blood, life, fresh flesh. Need. My jaws need to snap the meat in pieces. My tongue needs to slide the meat into my mouth down my throat into my belly.
My nails dig into the hardwood floor. My feet slip, but I keep scrambling. Splinters in my paws. A nose, a nose! If I could get a nose closer, I could taste the moist chunks of meat. I can taste it, juicy salty filling the gnawing hurt. I can taste it in my mind, and I snap, I snap at the meat.
But my neck hurts. If I pull too hard against the chain it hurts more. I stretch, I stretch. I know I can get my neck closer by a nose. I stretch, my neck is choking and pain. And then my nose hits a smooth cold barrier. My breath whuffs out, and frosty fog blocks out the meat.
Tags: Fiction, short short story
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Saturday, June 27th, 2009
Samuel Trader ducked and the pen hit the wall behind him. Julia Delmark grabbed the pages of an article off the table and shoved them into her briefcase.
“You’re as bad as my goddamn husband.” She slammed the case shut. “Worse. Let them have their faith.”
“Don’t you want to know if it was actually schizophrenia?” Samuel smiled as he held out her coat.
“Looking through those damn bug eyes won’t prove that god didn’t talk to her.” Her chair screeched against the kitchen tiles as she pushed it away. “Or are you after the ratings? Do you think they’ll flock to leer at that sensationalist burning at the end? You pig! Some stories shouldn’t be debunked. And no one should go through that kind of snuff film.”
At the door she paused, flashing him a glare, and yelled that she was going bird watching, despite the rain. She slammed the door. But this had happened a dozen times. Samuel fully expected to make up in the living room, the kitchen, and the stairwell before dawn.
Tags: Fiction, sci fi, short story
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