Month: October 2021

New Fiction 2021 – October

Short Stories

  • “Iqsinaqtutalik Piqtuq: The Haunted Blizzard” by Aviaq Johnston (2020) // "She’s too grown up to remember the scary parts of our land.“
  • "Uironda” by Luigi Musolino & James D. Jenkins (trans.) (2018) // “From enormous, heinous acts derive enormous, heinous hells.”
  • “The Bloody Chamber” by Angela Carter (1979) // “The worst thing was, the dead lips smiled.”
  • “Tree of the Forest Seven Bells Turns the World Round Midnight” by Sheree Renée Thomas (2016) // “This he believed in, this he could follow — the curved finger of flesh.”
  • “The Remorse of Professor Panebianco” by Greye La Spina (1925) // “Why does she look at me so? She is pitying me—me!”
  • “The House Party at Smoky Island” by Lucy Maud Montgomery (1935) //

    “Of the dead nothing but good; so I will say of Susette only that she was very beautiful and very rich.”

  • “Calcutta, Lord of Nerves” by Poppy Z. Brite (1992) // “I could have crawled all the way into that wet crimson eternity, and kept crawling forever.”
  • “Letter to a Young Lady in Paris” by Julio Cortázar (1951) // “Vomiting bunnies wasn’t so terrible once one had gotten into the unvarying cycle, into the method.”
  • “The Pelican Bar” by Karen Joy Fowler (2009) // “Humans do everything we did. Humans do more.”
  • “Cargo” by E. Michael Lewis (2008) // “A noise sounded—a moist ‘thunk.’ From inside.”
  • “The Erl-King” by Elizabeth Hand (1998) // “He’s got her now and he won’t want to give her back.”
  • “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” by Jorge Luis Borges & Norman Thomas di Giovanni (trans.) (1940) // “We found out (inevitably at such an hour) that there is something unnatural about mirrors.”
  • “The Show” by Priya Sharma (2011) // “The world was ripe. She’d weighed it in her palm.”
  • “Teratisms” by Kathe Koja (1991) // “What color does blood burn?”
  • “Kerfol” by Edith Wharton (1916) // “I can see the exchange of glances across the ermine collars under the Crucifix.”
  • “Demon” by Joyce Carol Oates (1996) // “No he was loving, mad with love.”
  • “The Other Place” by Mary Gaitskill (2011) // “She did not have a wedding ring, which meant that maybe no one would miss her. ”
  • “Absit” by Angélica Gorodischer & Amalia Gladhart (trans.) (2013) // “The girl didn’t move, she didn’t speak, she did nothing against the black, black sky full of stars.”
  • “Guess” by Meg Elison (2020) // “I am beginning to think we should drink all there is while we still can.”
  • “Ghosts of August” by Gabriel García Márquez (1980) // “Just then the smell of fresh cut strawberries made me tremble.”
  • “Aura” by Carlos Fuentes & Adrian Ziegler (trans.) (1962) // “They have forgotten that in solitude, temptation is greater.”
  • “The Follower” by Nuzo Onoh (2014) // “Chairs tumbled to the ground; someone moaned. All was madness.”
  • “The Death of Halpin Frayser” by Ambrose Bierce (1891) // “Halpin Frayser was a poet only as he was a penitent: in his dream.”
  • “The Shadow” by Edith Nesbit (1905) // “The most horrid ghost-story I ever heard was one that was quite silly.”
  • “The Story of Ming-Y” by Lafcadio Hearn (1887) // “Then their lips separated no more;—the night grew old, and they knew it not.”
  • “What You Eat” by Alys Hobbs (2020) // “Look at all this cream and sugar…”

Poems

  • “Ammutseba Rising” by Ann K. Schwader (2015) // "Perhaps our daughters will walk in shadow gladly, holding hunger inside them for a weapon.“

Comics/Single Issues

  • "Heavy Fog” by Abby Howard (2021) // "I can barely taste the burning.“
  • "Tatter Up!” by Graham Ingels (1955) // "Such beautiful rags…“
  • "Rasberry Surprise” by W. Maxwell Prince, Martín Morazzo, Chris O’Halloran, Good Old Neon (2018) // “The process only lasts for as long as you’re alive.”
  • “Strung Along” by Richard Corben (2016) // “Ever see a skinned rabbit?”
  • “Free Ride” by Cameron Morris & Nina Matsumoto (2016) // “Always pay my debts.”

Video Games

  • Silent Hill 2 dev. Konami Computer Entertainment Tokyo (2001) //

    “I’m not your Mary.”

  • Little Nightmares II dev. Tarsier Studios (2021) // Not a word.
  • Maneater dev. Tripwire Interactive (2020) // “Shark hunters kill for the same reason we all do: to feel complete.”
  • Twelve Minutes dev. Luís António (2021) // “Be honest with yourself. You knew this would happen.”
  • Nightmare Collection: Dead of the Brain dev. FairyTale (1992) // “I don’t think he can reply… he doesn’t have a brain.”

Movies

  • The Babysitter dir. McG (2017) // “Probably when your body starts to reek like cheese.”
  • Dracula dir. Tod Browning & Karl Freund (1931) // "There are far worse things awaiting man than death.“
  • Venom: Let There Be Carnage dir. Andy Serkis (2021) // "I have tasted blood before, my friend, and that is not it.”
  • Titane dir. Julia Ducournau (2021) // "Can’t you feel the energy? Between you and me?“
  • Frankenweenie dir. Tim Burton (2012) // "I don’t want him in my heart. I want him here with me.”
  • Gretel & Hansel dir. Oz Perkins (2020) // "What eats with its teeth, but never feels fed?“
  • Deep Red dir. Dario Argento (1975) // "It seems that there are some things which you just cannot do seriously with liberated women.”
  • LandLocked dir. Paul Owens (2021) // "Somebody’s been back here.“
  • The Lure dir. Agnieszka Smoczynska (2015) // "Put your hand deep inside me and drag me onto the shore.”
  • Lamb dir. Valdimar Jóhannsson (2021) // "She’s not used to strangers.“
  • Population 436 dir. Michelle MacLaren (2006) // "We are the union of the divine.”
  • Pet Sematary Two dir. Mary Lambert (1992) // "No brain, no pain. Think about it.“
  • The Slumber Party Massacre dir. Amy Holden Jones (1982) // "She drinks too much milk.”
  • Messiah of Evil dir. Willard Huyck & Gloria Katz (1973) // “And they’re waiting. They’re waiting for you.”
  • Track of the Vampire (aka Blood Bath) dir. Jack Hill & Stephanie Rothman (1966) // “The horror of death is that you desire it.”
  • Halloween Kills dir. David Gordon Green (2021) // “There’s a big fella in our bathroom, and he’s wearing a monster mask!”
  • The Hitch-Hiker dir. Ida Lupino (1953) // “You guys are gonna die, that’s all. It’s just a question of when.”
  • Office Killer dir. Cindy Sherman (1997) // “There now. He’s a much more handsome boy.”
  • Tigers Are Not Afraid dir. Issa López (2016) // “Bring him. To us. To where the dead wait for him.”
  • Shin Godzilla dir. Hideaki Anno & Shinji Higuchi (2016) // “This is the reality. All else is just a dream.”
  • Wolf’s Hole dir. Věra Chytilová (1987) // “I’ll tell on you! Monster! Pig!”
  • Saint Maud dir. Rose Glass (2020) // “Please don’t let me fall again.”
  • The Cursed Palace dir. Hasan Redha (1962) // “Do you see what money does? How it makes brothers eat one another’s flesh?”
  • Dream Home dir. Pang Ho-cheung (2010) // “The market is extremely volatile, but the worst is yet to come.”
  • Viy dir. Georgiy Kropachyov & Konstantin Ershov (1967) // “The devil take you and your wretched tongue.”
  • Halloween dir. John Carpenter (1978) // “Death has come to your little town, Sheriff.”
  • La Llorona dir. Jayro Bustamante (2019) // “She asked me not to drown.”
  • Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright (2021) // “I didn’t want any of this.”
  • The Invisible Man dir. James Whale (1933) // “I might even wreck a train or two… just these fingers around a signalman’s throat, that’s all.”
  • The Wolf Man dir. George Waggner (1941) // “You policemen are always in such a hurry. As if dead men didn’t have all eternity.”
  • Blood Diner dir. Jackie Kong (1987) // “Seems like the work of pathological weirdos.”
  • Antlers dir. Scott Cooper (2021) // “We found a part of a man in the woods today.”

Single Episodes

New Fiction 2021 – October

Short Stories

  • “Iqsinaqtutalik Piqtuq: The Haunted Blizzard” by Aviaq Johnston (2020) // "She’s too grown up to remember the scary parts of our land.“
  • "Uironda” by Luigi Musolino & James D. Jenkins (trans.) (2018) // “From enormous, heinous acts derive enormous, heinous hells.”
  • “The Bloody Chamber” by Angela Carter (1979) // “The worst thing was, the dead lips smiled.”
  • “Tree of the Forest Seven Bells Turns the World Round Midnight” by Sheree Renée Thomas (2016) // “This he believed in, this he could follow — the curved finger of flesh.”
  • “The Remorse of Professor Panebianco” by Greye La Spina (1925) // “Why does she look at me so? She is pitying me—me!”
  • “The House Party at Smoky Island” by Lucy Maud Montgomery (1935) //

    “Of the dead nothing but good; so I will say of Susette only that she was very beautiful and very rich.”

  • “Calcutta, Lord of Nerves” by Poppy Z. Brite (1992) // “I could have crawled all the way into that wet crimson eternity, and kept crawling forever.”
  • “Letter to a Young Lady in Paris” by Julio Cortázar (1951) // “Vomiting bunnies wasn’t so terrible once one had gotten into the unvarying cycle, into the method.”
  • “The Pelican Bar” by Karen Joy Fowler (2009) // “Humans do everything we did. Humans do more.”
  • “Cargo” by E. Michael Lewis (2008) // “A noise sounded—a moist ‘thunk.’ From inside.”
  • “The Erl-King” by Elizabeth Hand (1998) // “He’s got her now and he won’t want to give her back.”
  • “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” by Jorge Luis Borges & Norman Thomas di Giovanni (trans.) (1940) // “We found out (inevitably at such an hour) that there is something unnatural about mirrors.”
  • “The Show” by Priya Sharma (2011) // “The world was ripe. She’d weighed it in her palm.”
  • “Teratisms” by Kathe Koja (1991) // “What color does blood burn?”
  • “Kerfol” by Edith Wharton (1916) // “I can see the exchange of glances across the ermine collars under the Crucifix.”
  • “Demon” by Joyce Carol Oates (1996) // “No he was loving, mad with love.”
  • “The Other Place” by Mary Gaitskill (2011) // “She did not have a wedding ring, which meant that maybe no one would miss her. ”
  • “Absit” by Angélica Gorodischer & Amalia Gladhart (trans.) (2013) // “The girl didn’t move, she didn’t speak, she did nothing against the black, black sky full of stars.”
  • “Guess” by Meg Elison (2020) // “I am beginning to think we should drink all there is while we still can.”
  • “Ghosts of August” by Gabriel García Márquez (1980) // “Just then the smell of fresh cut strawberries made me tremble.”
  • “Aura” by Carlos Fuentes & Adrian Ziegler (trans.) (1962) // “They have forgotten that in solitude, temptation is greater.”
  • “The Follower” by Nuzo Onoh (2014) // “Chairs tumbled to the ground; someone moaned. All was madness.”
  • “The Death of Halpin Frayser” by Ambrose Bierce (1891) // “Halpin Frayser was a poet only as he was a penitent: in his dream.”
  • “The Shadow” by Edith Nesbit (1905) // “The most horrid ghost-story I ever heard was one that was quite silly.”
  • “The Story of Ming-Y” by Lafcadio Hearn (1887) // “Then their lips separated no more;—the night grew old, and they knew it not.”
  • “What You Eat” by Alys Hobbs (2020) // “Look at all this cream and sugar…”

Poems

  • “Ammutseba Rising” by Ann K. Schwader (2015) // "Perhaps our daughters will walk in shadow gladly, holding hunger inside them for a weapon.“

Comics/Single Issues

  • "Heavy Fog” by Abby Howard (2021) // "I can barely taste the burning.“
  • "Tatter Up!” by Graham Ingels (1955) // "Such beautiful rags…“
  • "Rasberry Surprise” by W. Maxwell Prince, Martín Morazzo, Chris O’Halloran, Good Old Neon (2018) // “The process only lasts for as long as you’re alive.”
  • “Strung Along” by Richard Corben (2016) // “Ever see a skinned rabbit?”
  • “Free Ride” by Cameron Morris & Nina Matsumoto (2016) // “Always pay my debts.”

Video Games

  • Silent Hill 2 dev. Konami Computer Entertainment Tokyo (2001) //

    “I’m not your Mary.”

  • Little Nightmares II dev. Tarsier Studios (2021) // Not a word.
  • Maneater dev. Tripwire Interactive (2020) // “Shark hunters kill for the same reason we all do: to feel complete.”
  • Twelve Minutes dev. Luís António (2021) // “Be honest with yourself. You knew this would happen.”
  • Nightmare Collection: Dead of the Brain dev. FairyTale (1992) // “I don’t think he can reply… he doesn’t have a brain.”

Movies

  • The Babysitter dir. McG (2017) // “Probably when your body starts to reek like cheese.”
  • Dracula dir. Tod Browning & Karl Freund (1931) // "There are far worse things awaiting man than death.“
  • Venom: Let There Be Carnage dir. Andy Serkis (2021) // "I have tasted blood before, my friend, and that is not it.”
  • Titane dir. Julia Ducournau (2021) // "Can’t you feel the energy? Between you and me?“
  • Frankenweenie dir. Tim Burton (2012) // "I don’t want him in my heart. I want him here with me.”
  • Gretel & Hansel dir. Oz Perkins (2020) // "What eats with its teeth, but never feels fed?“
  • Deep Red dir. Dario Argento (1975) // "It seems that there are some things which you just cannot do seriously with liberated women.”
  • LandLocked dir. Paul Owens (2021) // "Somebody’s been back here.“
  • The Lure dir. Agnieszka Smoczynska (2015) // "Put your hand deep inside me and drag me onto the shore.”
  • Lamb dir. Valdimar Jóhannsson (2021) // "She’s not used to strangers.“
  • Population 436 dir. Michelle MacLaren (2006) // "We are the union of the divine.”
  • Pet Sematary Two dir. Mary Lambert (1992) // "No brain, no pain. Think about it.“
  • The Slumber Party Massacre dir. Amy Holden Jones (1982) // "She drinks too much milk.”
  • Messiah of Evil dir. Willard Huyck & Gloria Katz (1973) // “And they’re waiting. They’re waiting for you.”
  • Track of the Vampire (aka Blood Bath) dir. Jack Hill & Stephanie Rothman (1966) // “The horror of death is that you desire it.”
  • Halloween Kills dir. David Gordon Green (2021) // “There’s a big fella in our bathroom, and he’s wearing a monster mask!”
  • The Hitch-Hiker dir. Ida Lupino (1953) // “You guys are gonna die, that’s all. It’s just a question of when.”
  • Office Killer dir. Cindy Sherman (1997) // “There now. He’s a much more handsome boy.”
  • Tigers Are Not Afraid dir. Issa López (2016) // “Bring him. To us. To where the dead wait for him.”
  • Shin Godzilla dir. Hideaki Anno & Shinji Higuchi (2016) // “This is the reality. All else is just a dream.”
  • Wolf’s Hole dir. Věra Chytilová (1987) // “I’ll tell on you! Monster! Pig!”
  • Saint Maud dir. Rose Glass (2020) // “Please don’t let me fall again.”
  • The Cursed Palace dir. Hasan Redha (1962) // “Do you see what money does? How it makes brothers eat one another’s flesh?”
  • Dream Home dir. Pang Ho-cheung (2010) // “The market is extremely volatile, but the worst is yet to come.”
  • Viy dir. Georgiy Kropachyov & Konstantin Ershov (1967) // “The devil take you and your wretched tongue.”
  • Halloween dir. John Carpenter (1978) // “Death has come to your little town, Sheriff.”
  • La Llorona dir. Jayro Bustamante (2019) // “She asked me not to drown.”
  • Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright (2021) // “I didn’t want any of this.”
  • The Invisible Man dir. James Whale (1933) // “I might even wreck a train or two… just these fingers around a signalman’s throat, that’s all.”
  • The Wolf Man dir. George Waggner (1941) // “You policemen are always in such a hurry. As if dead men didn’t have all eternity.”
  • Blood Diner dir. Jackie Kong (1987) // “Seems like the work of pathological weirdos.”
  • Antlers dir. Scott Cooper (2021) // “We found a part of a man in the woods today.”

Single Episodes

blondebrainpower:

Dead of Night, 1945 British anthology horror film, made by Ealing Studios. The individual segments were directed by Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden and Robert Hamer. It stars Mervyn Johns, Googie Withers, Sally Ann Howes and Michael Redgrave. The film is most remembered for the concluding story, which features Redgrave and concerns a ventriloquist’s malevolent dummy.

blondebrainpower:

Dead of Night, 1945 British anthology horror film, made by Ealing Studios. The individual segments were directed by Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden and Robert Hamer. It stars Mervyn Johns, Googie Withers, Sally Ann Howes and Michael Redgrave. The film is most remembered for the concluding story, which features Redgrave and concerns a ventriloquist’s malevolent dummy.

Booooo

fictionz:

The Magnolia Hotel lobby was empty on a Wednesday night, and so she had decided to escape the dreariness of the clinking and shallow whispers of the hotel to take in the night air. Few people walked the streets of downtown Denver and although they were few and far between, she enjoyed their company. Her neck was bare, and her hands remained in the pockets of her long dark coat as she stared out across the street to the bank building, whose flagpoles waved in the breeze and allowed her to focus her eyes.

As she stood on the sidewalk she heard footsteps approach from her left but made no move to react since several people had already circumvented her without issue. She absentmindedly waited for the footsteps to pass and furrowed her brows when they did not. The sound ceased alongside her and she prepared to turn but paused when she heard him whisper.

“You’re long and leggy. I like it.”

She sighed and collected herself, but kept her gaze on the street.

“What?”

“I said I like you and I like your legs. They’re gorgeous, girl. Absolutely beautiful.”

She turned and looked at him. His face was long and gaunt, his neck stretched tight. Long cords of sinew sloped down from the bottom of his skull to his shoulders. His eyes looked into hers but abruptly wandered away, unable to settle on any one thing. He leaned back when he saw her shoe slide a few inches away from him.

She finally said, “I’m not interested.”

“Oh, but I’m interestin’. Ask me a thing.”

“Do you usually come up close to women and objectify their legs?”

“Objectify? What’s this, objectify.” He scoffed and scratched his neck. A couple passed them and he smiled as they did, though once again not toward her. He seemed to be smiling for the sake of the couple and once they passed he looked at her with a different kind of smile. It was sharper and reached out across his face toward his ears. His teeth were brilliant beneath the lamps and moonlight but beyond them and into his head there was only darkness.

“I don’t objectify. I admire.”

“Same difference.”

She noted that the foot traffic on the street was thinning and though she needed to wait for her taxi to arrive she did not feel inclined to oblige a stranger’s madness. She turned away from him and was near the door to the hotel when he called out.

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“So I can know what to call you when I talk about the girl I fell in love with.”

She both laughed and scoffed, then turned to him. “Seriously?”

“It’s true,” he said. “You’re the girl I been lookin’ for.” He remained in place and reached out with his hand. His sleeve pulled back to reveal a thin wrist, also white and stretched so that she could see the ridges of his tendons extending into the palm.

She breathed in and looked at him. Her brows were lowered in contempt, but a wry smile remained.

“Explain this to me while I wait for my cab.”

“I mean it.”

“Explain it.”

Her amused smile remained hidden beneath the shadows cast by the street lights to the right and left sides of the hotel entrance, and she watched him from the doorway. The man began to walk toward her and then stopped and turned to the curb a few feet away. He lifted his cuffs and sat on the ground with his back to her, and then removed his black coat and laid it out to his left, then patted it with his thin hand.

“Am I supposed to sit now?” she asked.

He remained silent, placed his hands on his knees, and looked up toward the top of the brownstone building across the street.

“Them are some amazin’ stars, up there.”

“I’m not sitting on the curb.”

“Up to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck and resume staring at the top of the building.

“But like I’m sayin’, them are some amazin’ stars. I look at ‘em a lot, not for no good reason, nothin’ poetic or beautiful about ‘em, I just do. They’re somethin’ different, somethin’ we don’t got here on the ground. It’s like I can look up and see somethin’ I can be, somethin’ I can’t be now. It’s what keeps this whole damn thing goin’. It’s what makes a lot of what happens down here tolerable.”

“Is this your explanation?”

“I’m just talkin’. Listen if you like.”

“You’re not saying anything worth listening to.”

“You ain’t listenin’, then. But I can tell you hear me. It’s a start.” He turned back and smiled to where she remained standing. His eyes quickly darted to hers.

“I ain’t so bad, am I?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Then sit down and we’ll have ourselves a chat.”

She fidgeted and looked to the end of the street, seemingly expecting her cab to appear. The evening air blew around her, and the silence of the empty sidewalk surrounded them both, creating a bubble in which the two of them were forced to look at one another. She kept her wary gaze on his.

“What’s your name?”

“I asked first… but I’m also a gentleman. Damnable thing.”

He turned to his left and extended his right hand toward her.

“Gregorio.”

She walked toward him and shook it.

“Jane.”

“Well, Jane. Will you sit?”

“My cab will be here soon. I’d rather not.”

“As you please, darlin’.”

She frowned and stepped away from him, and he turned to the street again.

“So, you’re the one.”

“What?”

“You’re the one. The girl I been waitin’ for. I saw it when I looked at your face.”

“You said that. Why?”

“I had a dream about you.”

She chuckled and covered her eyes with her hand.

“Okay, fine.”

“You shouldn’t laugh at a dream, darlin’. Dreams show us things we can’t ever see.”

“Like the random girl you find in front of a hotel whose legs you decide to admire?” She mimicked quotes in the air with her fingers.

“Maybe.”

“So what happened in this dream?”

“I took your soul.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you’re the one.”

“The one what?”

“Girl I love.”

Lights appeared in the distance, and both she and Gregorio turned to the end of the street to see a car approach.

“Your coach, darlin’.”

“You don’t love me,” she said. “You can’t. This is all just bullshit to hit on me.”

“Oh, but I do, darlin’, I surely do. I love you like the fox loves its kin and the way the bullfrog loves the dragonfly. I love you more than I love myself, and I love myself more than anyone, except you. Your soul’s meant to be mine.”

The lights appeared closer now, nearly upon them.

“And who are you? The devil?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I am the best man you’ll ever meet. I am yours, darlin’, to the end. Your soul needs protectin’. I’ll protect it. I’ll nourish it and love it until the day you die. Your soul’s got nothin’ to worry on about when I’m around because, darlin’, your soul’s gonna be just fine. Your soul’s with me now, and where ever your body goes and whatever it does, your soul’s gonna be the happiest soul you ever seen.”

“Stop bullshitting me. Just shut up.”

The taxi stopped short of Gregorio’s legs. He stood and picked up his coat, not bothering to dust the side of it that had rested on the ground. When he turned back to her she noted that his hollow eyes glistened with tears, but none that had emerged and flowed down his shallow face.

“This is all bullshit,” she said. “Say that it is.”

“I don’t lie, darlin’. I don’t do that.”

The taxi driver honked the car’s horn and caused her to turn toward him for a moment.  When she turned back in Gregorio’s direction he had already placed his hands in his pockets and resumed walking in the direction he had been going, his head craned up toward the sky.

Booooo

fictionz:

The Magnolia Hotel lobby was empty on a Wednesday night, and so she had decided to escape the dreariness of the clinking and shallow whispers of the hotel to take in the night air. Few people walked the streets of downtown Denver and although they were few and far between, she enjoyed their company. Her neck was bare, and her hands remained in the pockets of her long dark coat as she stared out across the street to the bank building, whose flagpoles waved in the breeze and allowed her to focus her eyes.

As she stood on the sidewalk she heard footsteps approach from her left but made no move to react since several people had already circumvented her without issue. She absentmindedly waited for the footsteps to pass and furrowed her brows when they did not. The sound ceased alongside her and she prepared to turn but paused when she heard him whisper.

“You’re long and leggy. I like it.”

She sighed and collected herself, but kept her gaze on the street.

“What?”

“I said I like you and I like your legs. They’re gorgeous, girl. Absolutely beautiful.”

She turned and looked at him. His face was long and gaunt, his neck stretched tight. Long cords of sinew sloped down from the bottom of his skull to his shoulders. His eyes looked into hers but abruptly wandered away, unable to settle on any one thing. He leaned back when he saw her shoe slide a few inches away from him.

She finally said, “I’m not interested.”

“Oh, but I’m interestin’. Ask me a thing.”

“Do you usually come up close to women and objectify their legs?”

“Objectify? What’s this, objectify.” He scoffed and scratched his neck. A couple passed them and he smiled as they did, though once again not toward her. He seemed to be smiling for the sake of the couple and once they passed he looked at her with a different kind of smile. It was sharper and reached out across his face toward his ears. His teeth were brilliant beneath the lamps and moonlight but beyond them and into his head there was only darkness.

“I don’t objectify. I admire.”

“Same difference.”

She noted that the foot traffic on the street was thinning and though she needed to wait for her taxi to arrive she did not feel inclined to oblige a stranger’s madness. She turned away from him and was near the door to the hotel when he called out.

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“So I can know what to call you when I talk about the girl I fell in love with.”

She both laughed and scoffed, then turned to him. “Seriously?”

“It’s true,” he said. “You’re the girl I been lookin’ for.” He remained in place and reached out with his hand. His sleeve pulled back to reveal a thin wrist, also white and stretched so that she could see the ridges of his tendons extending into the palm.

She breathed in and looked at him. Her brows were lowered in contempt, but a wry smile remained.

“Explain this to me while I wait for my cab.”

“I mean it.”

“Explain it.”

Her amused smile remained hidden beneath the shadows cast by the street lights to the right and left sides of the hotel entrance, and she watched him from the doorway. The man began to walk toward her and then stopped and turned to the curb a few feet away. He lifted his cuffs and sat on the ground with his back to her, and then removed his black coat and laid it out to his left, then patted it with his thin hand.

“Am I supposed to sit now?” she asked.

He remained silent, placed his hands on his knees, and looked up toward the top of the brownstone building across the street.

“Them are some amazin’ stars, up there.”

“I’m not sitting on the curb.”

“Up to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck and resume staring at the top of the building.

“But like I’m sayin’, them are some amazin’ stars. I look at ‘em a lot, not for no good reason, nothin’ poetic or beautiful about ‘em, I just do. They’re somethin’ different, somethin’ we don’t got here on the ground. It’s like I can look up and see somethin’ I can be, somethin’ I can’t be now. It’s what keeps this whole damn thing goin’. It’s what makes a lot of what happens down here tolerable.”

“Is this your explanation?”

“I’m just talkin’. Listen if you like.”

“You’re not saying anything worth listening to.”

“You ain’t listenin’, then. But I can tell you hear me. It’s a start.” He turned back and smiled to where she remained standing. His eyes quickly darted to hers.

“I ain’t so bad, am I?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Then sit down and we’ll have ourselves a chat.”

She fidgeted and looked to the end of the street, seemingly expecting her cab to appear. The evening air blew around her, and the silence of the empty sidewalk surrounded them both, creating a bubble in which the two of them were forced to look at one another. She kept her wary gaze on his.

“What’s your name?”

“I asked first… but I’m also a gentleman. Damnable thing.”

He turned to his left and extended his right hand toward her.

“Gregorio.”

She walked toward him and shook it.

“Jane.”

“Well, Jane. Will you sit?”

“My cab will be here soon. I’d rather not.”

“As you please, darlin’.”

She frowned and stepped away from him, and he turned to the street again.

“So, you’re the one.”

“What?”

“You’re the one. The girl I been waitin’ for. I saw it when I looked at your face.”

“You said that. Why?”

“I had a dream about you.”

She chuckled and covered her eyes with her hand.

“Okay, fine.”

“You shouldn’t laugh at a dream, darlin’. Dreams show us things we can’t ever see.”

“Like the random girl you find in front of a hotel whose legs you decide to admire?” She mimicked quotes in the air with her fingers.

“Maybe.”

“So what happened in this dream?”

“I took your soul.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you’re the one.”

“The one what?”

“Girl I love.”

Lights appeared in the distance, and both she and Gregorio turned to the end of the street to see a car approach.

“Your coach, darlin’.”

“You don’t love me,” she said. “You can’t. This is all just bullshit to hit on me.”

“Oh, but I do, darlin’, I surely do. I love you like the fox loves its kin and the way the bullfrog loves the dragonfly. I love you more than I love myself, and I love myself more than anyone, except you. Your soul’s meant to be mine.”

The lights appeared closer now, nearly upon them.

“And who are you? The devil?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I am the best man you’ll ever meet. I am yours, darlin’, to the end. Your soul needs protectin’. I’ll protect it. I’ll nourish it and love it until the day you die. Your soul’s got nothin’ to worry on about when I’m around because, darlin’, your soul’s gonna be just fine. Your soul’s with me now, and where ever your body goes and whatever it does, your soul’s gonna be the happiest soul you ever seen.”

“Stop bullshitting me. Just shut up.”

The taxi stopped short of Gregorio’s legs. He stood and picked up his coat, not bothering to dust the side of it that had rested on the ground. When he turned back to her she noted that his hollow eyes glistened with tears, but none that had emerged and flowed down his shallow face.

“This is all bullshit,” she said. “Say that it is.”

“I don’t lie, darlin’. I don’t do that.”

The taxi driver honked the car’s horn and caused her to turn toward him for a moment.  When she turned back in Gregorio’s direction he had already placed his hands in his pockets and resumed walking in the direction he had been going, his head craned up toward the sky.

Ghosts In Your Home

fictionz:

We arrive late because I was watching a television show about shrimp.

We arrive and inside there are many people everywhere and they don’t do things I like. When it’s time to laugh they are serious and when something is serious they laugh like idiots. I am tired in the way I am tired when I am talking to people who talk about money.

“Ahmed, you’re here! And Meg, goodness, you look fabulous! That dress. That dress!”

My wife is Meg and Pat loves her so they invited us together though they wanted Meg. Many people want Meg and maybe men but I don’t care in the way a husband should. I am a husband to her like circus dogs or boys who wait in parks for men to pay them money for pleasant things. My wife screams. She is happy.

I walk away and through the living room where two women and two men talk at each other. They are on crushed velvet as green as plastic holiday trees. The walls have paintings in gold frames and the walls are melting on purpose. Everyone is moving their heads around so much and their eyes are going to leap from their heads and kiss. I cannot stand it, I move on. My stomach tells me I need to find a place.

In the kitchen I see gold brass everywhere. A track around an island of dead oak and granite seas with many floating ships of absolute beauty. Track lights from one end of the kitchen to the other that serve to create a moody lightmosphere. I go for the first plate, I reach for a toothpick. I run my tongue along the chorus in my mouth and moisten my lips.

Pretty little jumbo shrimp. They sit in a circles, biggest, bigger, and big. I eat them one at a time like women. So beautiful, little jumbo shrimp. So pretty. I eat them and I love them. I move across the table where other little ladies wait for me. Little corn, little bits of cube steak, little weenies. Meg appears from the living room, looking for me. I feel my head spin. I eat more shrimp and all the shrimp are gone when she is next to me.

She asks, “Do you concern yourself with the plights of others?”

I’m too busy eating my little ladies to answer and I shrug. She pats my forearm when she walks away. Her hand is wrinkles and blue.

Pat passes by with a wine bottle and goes into the living room where someone is guffawing like chunky potatoes. I move a corn in and I place it between my teeth. I move my jaw from side to side, roll the corn like a nubbly little log of joy, and strip it away layer by layer until the little corn lady is torn to bits and down my gullet, like chum and I am a shark, come baby. Chunky potatoes again, waddles and a lot of glub.

Someone says, “Jeez, Ahmed. Sit down.”

I don’t know him. I want to eat him and his face but spit him back out, into the toilet, into the shit. Little pictures hang on the walls just above beige tiles that run from the middle of the wall down to the floor like the golden path. I am meant to be here, with my ladies. I feel a groan and I know I should not stop.

Outside, on the deck, music is playing. It makes me want to vomit. Boom boom boom boom boom. They like earthquakes and they live in the wrong place. Go find your booms and leave me in silence here where the action is. I feel the booming in my head and stomach. It rattles me like cocktails in a blender. A constant woosh.

The cube steak is very nice. The marinade that Pat chose is exquisite. She knows how to dress them up and make them squee, little ladies in pretty red and brown dresses. A dash of rosemary somewhere in it, I can tell. It sits in a pool in the middle of my tongue and I allow it to drown before down, down it goes. I’ve stopped using toothpicks. Cube steak in my mouth, down my throat. Wet little chunky bits tra la la.

I sit down after all. He is gone but I see his face laughing at me from the toilet. I breathe heavy and something feels strange for a moment but it becomes better when I see more plates, more of them.

The bar stool lets me lean against the wall with the plate in my hand. Little carrots roll left and right as I try to steady it. Little carrots, what is the matter? You will come in here. And I laugh to myself when I look outside and see that no one is eating. They sit around the wood table stained in green and talk about inane things with glasses scattered across the battlefield between them. They laugh like the lobsters Pat boiled as they bathed to death. I look forward to their big juicy tails. They will be very nice. They make me feel good, like marmalade on pork loin. My stomach is screeching. I can see the refrigerator opening a portal into the universe where I lie in a pool of sauce and drink it like blood. The sky is ambrosia and when I stand naked and look up to the blueberry moon until it all explodes and comes down into my mouth. I place my hand on the granite to steady myself when my legs stop remembering what they do.

My hands, look. They are so colorful. My wife returns from the living room and looks at me and my hands.

“What are you doing? You are embarrassing me. Stop and go wash.”

“Alright, honey.”

I smile enough to make her walk away. I move to the sink. The water turns itself on and out it comes but I want to swallow all the water in the world so I put my face sideways enough to almost break my neck so I can fill my cheeks. The water wets me. I almost fall and the water leaves my face covered in glue. It rolls down to my shirt.

I lean against the cabinet and belch out the spirits of my ladies. When Pat passes by with the roast she stops and screams silence when she should be praying to me like a human god. I reach up and take it. My hands burn and so does my face as I tear it to shreds, such goodness. They try and hold me down, take my roast, but I stand and swing her around and we dance. She steps so lightly. When they disappear into the living room others come in from outside and stand across the island staring at me, their hands on metal stools and granite. I fall and we lie together, oh goodness. I feel my stomach complain and something new wants to come up and outside of me. I don’t want to let it and lie still for such a long time until I fall asleep.

Ghosts In Your Home

fictionz:

We arrive late because I was watching a television show about shrimp.

We arrive and inside there are many people everywhere and they don’t do things I like. When it’s time to laugh they are serious and when something is serious they laugh like idiots. I am tired in the way I am tired when I am talking to people who talk about money.

“Ahmed, you’re here! And Meg, goodness, you look fabulous! That dress. That dress!”

My wife is Meg and Pat loves her so they invited us together though they wanted Meg. Many people want Meg and maybe men but I don’t care in the way a husband should. I am a husband to her like circus dogs or boys who wait in parks for men to pay them money for pleasant things. My wife screams. She is happy.

I walk away and through the living room where two women and two men talk at each other. They are on crushed velvet as green as plastic holiday trees. The walls have paintings in gold frames and the walls are melting on purpose. Everyone is moving their heads around so much and their eyes are going to leap from their heads and kiss. I cannot stand it, I move on. My stomach tells me I need to find a place.

In the kitchen I see gold brass everywhere. A track around an island of dead oak and granite seas with many floating ships of absolute beauty. Track lights from one end of the kitchen to the other that serve to create a moody lightmosphere. I go for the first plate, I reach for a toothpick. I run my tongue along the chorus in my mouth and moisten my lips.

Pretty little jumbo shrimp. They sit in a circles, biggest, bigger, and big. I eat them one at a time like women. So beautiful, little jumbo shrimp. So pretty. I eat them and I love them. I move across the table where other little ladies wait for me. Little corn, little bits of cube steak, little weenies. Meg appears from the living room, looking for me. I feel my head spin. I eat more shrimp and all the shrimp are gone when she is next to me.

She asks, “Do you concern yourself with the plights of others?”

I’m too busy eating my little ladies to answer and I shrug. She pats my forearm when she walks away. Her hand is wrinkles and blue.

Pat passes by with a wine bottle and goes into the living room where someone is guffawing like chunky potatoes. I move a corn in and I place it between my teeth. I move my jaw from side to side, roll the corn like a nubbly little log of joy, and strip it away layer by layer until the little corn lady is torn to bits and down my gullet, like chum and I am a shark, come baby. Chunky potatoes again, waddles and a lot of glub.

Someone says, “Jeez, Ahmed. Sit down.”

I don’t know him. I want to eat him and his face but spit him back out, into the toilet, into the shit. Little pictures hang on the walls just above beige tiles that run from the middle of the wall down to the floor like the golden path. I am meant to be here, with my ladies. I feel a groan and I know I should not stop.

Outside, on the deck, music is playing. It makes me want to vomit. Boom boom boom boom boom. They like earthquakes and they live in the wrong place. Go find your booms and leave me in silence here where the action is. I feel the booming in my head and stomach. It rattles me like cocktails in a blender. A constant woosh.

The cube steak is very nice. The marinade that Pat chose is exquisite. She knows how to dress them up and make them squee, little ladies in pretty red and brown dresses. A dash of rosemary somewhere in it, I can tell. It sits in a pool in the middle of my tongue and I allow it to drown before down, down it goes. I’ve stopped using toothpicks. Cube steak in my mouth, down my throat. Wet little chunky bits tra la la.

I sit down after all. He is gone but I see his face laughing at me from the toilet. I breathe heavy and something feels strange for a moment but it becomes better when I see more plates, more of them.

The bar stool lets me lean against the wall with the plate in my hand. Little carrots roll left and right as I try to steady it. Little carrots, what is the matter? You will come in here. And I laugh to myself when I look outside and see that no one is eating. They sit around the wood table stained in green and talk about inane things with glasses scattered across the battlefield between them. They laugh like the lobsters Pat boiled as they bathed to death. I look forward to their big juicy tails. They will be very nice. They make me feel good, like marmalade on pork loin. My stomach is screeching. I can see the refrigerator opening a portal into the universe where I lie in a pool of sauce and drink it like blood. The sky is ambrosia and when I stand naked and look up to the blueberry moon until it all explodes and comes down into my mouth. I place my hand on the granite to steady myself when my legs stop remembering what they do.

My hands, look. They are so colorful. My wife returns from the living room and looks at me and my hands.

“What are you doing? You are embarrassing me. Stop and go wash.”

“Alright, honey.”

I smile enough to make her walk away. I move to the sink. The water turns itself on and out it comes but I want to swallow all the water in the world so I put my face sideways enough to almost break my neck so I can fill my cheeks. The water wets me. I almost fall and the water leaves my face covered in glue. It rolls down to my shirt.

I lean against the cabinet and belch out the spirits of my ladies. When Pat passes by with the roast she stops and screams silence when she should be praying to me like a human god. I reach up and take it. My hands burn and so does my face as I tear it to shreds, such goodness. They try and hold me down, take my roast, but I stand and swing her around and we dance. She steps so lightly. When they disappear into the living room others come in from outside and stand across the island staring at me, their hands on metal stools and granite. I fall and we lie together, oh goodness. I feel my stomach complain and something new wants to come up and outside of me. I don’t want to let it and lie still for such a long time until I fall asleep.