Desires of the Flesh
Moonlight glistened from the beads of water dripping from her naked body as she lay on the stone. I could not help but take pause. A fog engulfed my being; lost in her malevolent beauty.
“You need her.” It said, “You must have her,” it insisted.
I stepped into the night, enraptured by the possibilities of her flesh.
“You’ve come.” She said.
“Yes.” I responded. Was I not there of my own volition?
She turned to me, eyes blazing with desire.
Too late I found this appetite for my flesh to be, both a deep lust, and a true hunger.
“How you doin’ chief? Everything aces?” I heard his laboured breathing behind me.
“Was ’til now.” he wheezed. “Wonderin’ why, you’se on my turf.”
I waved for him to sit. “Best sushi in town chief.” I spread a liberal amount of Japanese horseradish onto a dynamite roll. “You oughta try it; it’ll cure what ails ya.”
“What ‘ails’ me is you corrupting my men.”
I popped the roll into my mouth and savoured it. “Please, join me.”
“I don’t do raw fish.” He said.
“Afraid of what they been eatin’?” I joked.
“And their bedfellows, if you catch my drift.”
Blue
I don’t think that there is anyone in the world who displays his feelings quite like I do. It is some sort of physical abnormality that occured after the accident (Some fucking accident, 15 million people killed, three quarters of the worlds water supply contaminated and radio-active and countless survivors wishing for death over life). There was a small pocket of contaminated area that when mixed with the atmospheric conditions and sunlight concentration at the time led to very specific and “Super-Power-Like” mutations. Some could fly, some had super sonic speed, strength mind reading, you name it. What did I get? Colour changing and not the blend into the background type. My brother can toss a car 30 yards and all I get is an extra five minutes in the bathroom if my sister notices I’m purple (Horny), a wide birth when I’, red (angry), and a hug when I’m blue (yeah, real original).
Yeap my father is “Sonic” and I am “Moody”.
Cleanliness
He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. The body still lay on his kitchen floor. No matter how many times he went to make sure it was really gone as soon as he closed his eyes his mind told him it was still there. He could no longer sleep.
He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. The water ran off bright red, he screamed, jarring himself back to life and back to the swirling clear liquid running down the drain. He could not feel clean. He turned on the shower to full hot then stepped out of his clothes. They were still sticky with blood even though what he had been wearing was buried —in the kitchen— along with the body. He scrubbed again, it was his fourth shower since he returned, the bottom of his bathtub was caked with mud and blood and hair and nothing, two bottles of bleach could not stop it from coming back.
He used the barbecue brush to scrub off the evidence again. This time the water ran red for real as layers of skin peeled off his body. The blistering heat numbed the pain by the shear volume of sensory recepticles it overloaded, still he scrubbed. And scrubbed. And scrubbed.
WINNER
Dirty Thoughts
Another year of that and she was sure she’d go mad. The mechanic came up from the bowels of the ship covered in grease from bow to stern. He was so dirty she could hardly recognize him, her mind was so filled with filth he likely wouldn’t have recongnized it.
“Status Report Dr. Trilgaard.” She said as formally as possible as she envisioned herself peeling off his blackened coveralls and took his greasy smitten hand to lead his naked dirty body to her personal shower.
“The vacuum counterforce is repaired and the magnetos are back on line.” He said removing his saluting hand from his temple leaving a dark streak above his right eyebrow. “It was hard trudging but I finally got it.”
She didn’t get passed the ‘Hard’ part. “Good work Doctor, how long until we will return to full operating capacity?” She asked.
About twenty-five minutes captain.
“That’s just enough time.” She said and lept at him ripping off his overalls revealing what she had hoped for, a clean torpedo to fill her empty space.
Live Life
It was a crap shoot, a roll of the dice. For decades I had been safe, predictable, boring. That was all about to change. No regrets.
The sizzle and pop of bacon in my frying pan added to my hunger, the hot juice forming a lake of molten grease. I cracked an egg and watched it spread out; its white edges dancing on the boiling liquid. Healthy living was like going through life on cruise control and that’s no way to live. We’ll all die someday, I want to live today. Just add salt.
Miss Fortune
“You are a Gringo no?” The fortune teller was passing herself off as Romanian but she was obviously Mexican. This only added to my scepticism of her omnipotence.
“Si.” I responded flippantly.
She turned the first card, an old man carrying a lantern. “The Hermit. I see you have been isolated but will return to civilization.”
True, I was alone now. Hardly voodoo.
She flipped over more.
“Oh, this one is alarming.” It was a man hanging upside down. “You may gain knowledge of the future, only to die suddenly.”
“What a crock,” I said and swiped my money from the table to return to the deray that was the marketplace.
The Ro-Maxican witch stood up. “Beware!” She shouted.
I shouldn’t have ignored the rest of what she said.
“Bus!”
The Modern Gladiator
He wasn’t ready. Before weigh-in he’d had to slice twenty-five pounds to make weight. He was dehydrated and weak then, and was now just barely recovered. The broken bones from his last fight weren’t quite healed and he winced with each step.
His dressing room door opened. His song started; Cakes version of “I Will Survive.” He knew he wouldn’t. His opponent didn’t have his beard or his panache but in every other aspect of battle he dominated him; younger, stronger, meaner. The roar of the crowd drew him out, by the time he reached the Octagon, he, was, invincible.
…and they shall call me Tracey
An ebony carriage sprinted through town; the rhythmic pounding of hooves on cobblestone announced her coming. She had much to do. These so called Christians were nothing more than trollops and scoundrels awaiting the key to unlock their debaucherous souls. She held those keys. They may all be blinded by His light but the glitter of cheap booze, easy money and fast woman will easily turn them to Her and that is all she will need.
Infection
An amorphous pool of vomit pooled at his feet, a lumpy mess of half digested oatmeal in a slurry of brown coffee. If his stomach rioted again it would likely suck his scrotum into his gut and spew it from his mouth too.
Bile coated his tongue; he spat but couldn’t get rid of the taste of the burning acid. His stomach thrust again, turning itself inside out, he dropped to the ground.
His eyes didn’t need to be open to see everyone’s fierce glaze upon him. He felt sorry for them; soon, they too would be suffering.
Alphabet Wine 