Batu shoved the door in to his apartment. The setting was familiar and the smell that had settled in his nostrils was also familiar; unpleasant, but familiar. Batu waded through the misaligned furniture that had been pushed around and not placed in their proper spots.
He muscled his way towards the kitchen and a new smell hit him. Was it mildew? He covered his mouth and nose at all the glasses and dishes with standing water inside all of them. Batu was horrified and reluctant to leave his bags unattended. He journeyed to living room and found a heap of blankets piled into the corner of the couch. Batu dropped his luggage on to the floor and the blanket mountain moved.
It had only taken a moment for a finger to peak out to tear at the fabric of the cocoon blanket, then a hand, then an arm. The arm retreated and the peeled back a layer and out popped a squinty eyed man in the opposite direction with the worst bed head that Batu had ever seen: Julian.
Continue reading “Welcome Back”
“Why are we here,” Tyler asked.
“It’s therapeutic, honey.”
Tyler looked around the abandoned school grounds. The wear had shown and time wasn’t kind to the decrepit building of learning. Tyler stood holding himself together, hoping not to scrape against something sharp, deadly and would cost him a very expensive trip to the emergency room.
“Would you relax,” Toni asked, breaking Tyler’s concentration.
“This is as relaxed as you’re gonna get.”
Continue reading “Maturity Return Void”
Harris pressed softly against the half opened door.
“Mitchell,” he called softly into the dark. Harris had streaked across the lawn of his friend and struggled to calm his breath. He received fourteen voicemails from Mitchell that night. He stopped listening after the third one.
“Mitchell,” he called out again. “It’s me. You okay in there?”
Harris ducked when he heard a loud metallic bang fall to the floor. He crept to the back room, unsure if there was a home invader in Mitchell’s house. Between the crack of the door, he saw Mitchell. But he was bumping into the shelves and furniture in the room. He appeared distant.
Continue reading “Collectible”
“Good afternoon,” the older gentleman stranger said to the man with his back facing him. Before them lay forest as far as the eye could see.
The older silver-haired mustachioed gentleman name was Martin. Martin strode forward and looked down into the ravine. It was difficult to see the bottom. The other man stood facing outward in silence, not answering the older man. He could see a folded piece of paper with a name on it. Corey it read very neatly.
Continue reading “Lover’s Leap”
I’m halfway through my writing challenge and I look back at all that I’ve done so far. Sometimes, I think I should be much further along by now. If I look back, I can see I’ve received some great feedback from complete strangers. Other times, it appears to me as if I’m missing the mark.
I’ll ask myself: “Why do I feel like I’m missing the goal? Are people entertained by the things I’ve written?”
Continue reading “The Halfway Point”
“Is everything okay, Zach” the receptionist asked.
“Yep,” I reply quickly. “Just don’t like hospitals.”
It’s true. Haven’t been a fan of them since I was a kid. My foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum surface that lined the entire hospital infrastructure. My fingers drummed in the same tune. It would only be moments before I wiggled my foot and lose the foundation of my courage and bail. The receptionist doesn’t have a clue who I’m here to see. She might not know. Neither would the person I’m here to see.
Continue reading “Restroom”
The weight of debt… is soul crushing.
Like the Marina Trench. The deepest part has millions tons of pressure. That’s what it feels like to have debt pressing on me. But debt isn’t just that you owe, it’s the want. The desire. The greed. The street lights appear darker to me when out for an evening stroll. You can become reckless. What’s driving without a seatbelt? How much more damage could I owe? How much more money could I throw on top of this debt? Maybe I should cause the police to chase me. Land myself on the 6 o’clock news complete with aerial footage. I hear they charge you interest on the fuel they used for you from the helicopter.
Continue reading “Dead Sea Debt”