They weren’t there before I slept last night. I would have noticed for sure. The dusty shapes stood out in stark contrast on the otherwise pristine surface. Size 9 at a guess. Two sizes larger than my own. Two clearly defined footprints.
Why the hell were they on my ceiling?
She tapped her feet a tad pensively as the Head-hunter in the immaculate business suit pored over her extensive resume. She had answered all his questions with the ease and confidence born of years of experience. ‘I’m impressed’, he finally pronounced.
And then proceeded to lop her head off with a machete.
His fingers caressed her naked skin from the alabaster forehead to the prim toe, his breath followed as he leaned in to traverse those contours. Finally his lips, as he fastened them on hers. He paused, stiffened and keeled over from a fatal heart attack.
A necrophiliac doesn’t usually expect his partner to kiss back.
The rain fell and it didn’t stop. For days, weeks and months. Like an incessant deluge of watery apocalypse. In time, the oceans rose to reclaim the land, as if the water from below wished to meet the shower from above half-way. And then nothing remained. Except for the rain. And the new fish people.
The lights strobe but no one blinks. The disembodied dance to an arcane beat. The wine flows but the lips are forever parched. It’s a full house but the doors stay open. This Party has been on for untold aeons. No one ever leaves it. And the music never stops. Because Death is the DJ.
It was all her fault, they said. For everything that went wrong, for all the sins that followed, She bore the scar of guilt. He, on the other hand was lauded for his vision and his benefaction to mankind.
But when they finally met in the afterlife Steve and Eve both found something in common.
Gods and Demons
They used to play in my garden every day. The little gods and the little demons, their laughter like tiny bells. So curious, so inventive and so fond of make believe. Each day they would craft something new fueled by childish innocence. Until one day they created a Human. There’s been no more laughter since.
She bit and she scratched and she struggled right through every minute of the ordeal. Futile though it was, she was determined to resist till the very end, it just wasn’t in her nature to bear this indignity without putting up a fight.
Yes, cats don’t like being given a bath very much.
He was born with a very unique gift. He had the innate ability to understand and interpret any language spoken on earth. So he became a tongue for hire, spending each day expressing the thoughts of others and voicing their opinions. And then one day, he found he could no longer speak his own mind.
Each day i pass him on the way to and from work. On the same threadbare blanket and in the same tattered clothes. His eyes have no hope in them and his legs no longer walk but in his hands he always clutches an ancient abecedary. I like to believe he’s just minding his language.
‘I give you doors 1, 2 and 3. Behind one lies a million dollars and behind the rest, just disappointment. Make your choice. Make your fortune.’
‘Door no. 2,’ He said instantly.
‘Are you absolutely sure? I give you one last chance to change your mind, Mr. …’
‘Oh, I’m sure. And its Clark Kent’.
He didn’t need to actually read the letters. He pretty much already knew what they would tell him. She missed him. She regretted her decision to leave. She wanted a second chance. Yes, the letters hinted at happier tidings. But he knew this already. As he should. After all, he had written them to himself.