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The Deceased - 99Til Death Do Us PartThe Deceased - 99
Lines of blood, like calligraphy, traced his neck. It pooled in the hollow of his throat and dripped gradually from his shoulders. The hand he held was grey, stiff. The nurse left them veiled by a thin curtain. The coroner would arrive shortly, his dry monotone would be heard in the next ward, “…male, Caucasian, 32 years of age, two gun shot wounds to the lower abdomen, one gun shot wound to the head. Female, Caucasian, 29 years of age, two gun shot wounds to the chest…” The curtain rippled around the base of their beds, side by side.
by ~neverthejourney
Gravedigger - 99GravediggerGravedigger - 99
He leans on the shovel, eyes wandering across the silent hillside. With one soil-stained hand he wipes sweat from his brow. His back aches, his hands cramp. He continues digging, the only thing he has ever known. Night swallows the cemetery. The only sounds the scuff of dirt and rustle of leaves. When the grave reaches his knees, he rests a while, taking a swig from the flask he carries at his hip. He continues to dig throughout the night, until the frost touches the grass. Then he sits by the grave and watches the sun climb the hillside.
by ~neverthejourney
Monkey Games - 99Monkey GamesMonkey Games - 99
Glass eyes watch me from across the room, unblinking. He sits on the dresser, symbols poised. Every now and then a fragment of light will flicker across him and his cheeky grin will become a leer. He watches me walk toward him. I lift him from the dresser, rumpling his moth-eaten overalls. The key is rusted and grinds horribly when I twist it. His symbols remain lifeless, not even a quiver. I set him back down on the dresser and he peers up at me with beady eyes, innocently blank. I turn my back on his leering monkey face.
by ~neverthejourney
The Existencehell hath no fury like a woman scornedThe Existence
She throws her raw jealousy, reckless, in black magic. He smoulders before her eyes; those charcoal mirrors, which burn lies into flesh. And he quails before her savage tongue, that slices skin and bone.
Like a vulture she picks apart his carcass.
by ~neverthejourney
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