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Granting Wishes?A tilt of his head, a small smirk; all too familiar to me.
"So, you have another problem with how I grant your wishes?" He asks, lounging back in the ratty armchair, slender fingers raising a cigarette to his lips. I watch in silence as he takes a drag, exhaling a curling plume of smoke into the air of my apartment.
"Or do you have another wish you need granted?"
My continued silence is enough of an answer to him. His smirk widens, feline, predatory.
"Oh ho ho. So the little wayward, angry bastard wants another favour." He lowers the cigarette, taps his fingers against the arm of my chair. Ashes fall to the equally ratty carpet covering the floor.
"Alright, spit it out. What's it gonna be this time? A new job? A new lover? A new place?" He leans forward, resting one elbow on his knee, a hint of some vicious, eager sentiment hovering on hi
Poetic travel logFresh air!
Snow crunching under
Sun shine & the birds
Leaning on the sun warmed leather
Of the car door,
Me and Clyde watch the scenery go by.
Across the sky,
A jet plane blazes
Its white meteor trail.
Patterned in trees,
Of sun and shadow.
And sudden blue light,
On the page of my notebook.
A wisp, a puff, a speck, a line;
Against the sky.
Tree branches make,
A delicate lace,
Stark against the turquoise,
Of sky lady's dress.
Just a flash out my window, but,
I see a walking lady.
Grey and white motion
On the matte grey sky;
Immersed in hot water,
Snowflakes whip around my head;
I breathe in cold steam.
Smooth and clinking,
In my hands.
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More