He inserted the glittering knife at his wrist, and began slicing up the length of his arm. It was a ghastly affair, what with the blood spurting all over his bathroom.
When the deed was done, he set down the knife and lifted the glass of whisky. Calmly, he drew at the cold drink. Danforth had really thought this one through. He had purchased strike-anywhere matches, so he could light a final cigarette with his one good hand. Rather depressingly, he had left both the cigarettes and matches on his nightstand.
Several hours later, the sunlight streamed in through the frosted bathroom window. His shadow fell across the scene. They complimented each other: the red and black, contrasting the utter white of his skin.
His guardian angel rose from where he had been sitting next to him, and shook his head, all four faces frowning. He had a lot of paperwork to complete back at the office.
End
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
For Amanda, Escaping Manhattan, 'Project 157'
I took her breath away by the light of the full moon, in a boxcar on our way out west. The cattails swayed by the side of the lake, and we fell asleep behind some wooden crates, on a bed of raggedy blankets and straw.
At first, the noise of the train seemed deafening, but when we met, my fears and failures melted away, and the clanking and rushing soon faded. We shared a smile, but not our stories. Then we shared our selves...
Before I wanted it to, dawn broke over the flint hills; all amber, blood, and fire. The train began to slow. I buried my face in her hair, and inhaled. Sweet sweat, dust, mixed with something floral. My heart skipped a beat. From that day on, it didn’t matter who we had been, only that we were together. The train pulled into the station, and we rose from our slumber new persons.
End
At first, the noise of the train seemed deafening, but when we met, my fears and failures melted away, and the clanking and rushing soon faded. We shared a smile, but not our stories. Then we shared our selves...
Before I wanted it to, dawn broke over the flint hills; all amber, blood, and fire. The train began to slow. I buried my face in her hair, and inhaled. Sweet sweat, dust, mixed with something floral. My heart skipped a beat. From that day on, it didn’t matter who we had been, only that we were together. The train pulled into the station, and we rose from our slumber new persons.
End
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
For Camille, The Coal Miner's Daughter, 'Project 157'
I can scarcely describe his fury, for a father’s wrath in unparalleled by either gods or men. The combined weight of heaven and hell bore down on me through the barrel of that Colt 45.
“DADDY NO!” She screamed - as the shots ripped through me - and into the wall of the ramshackle house. She leapt for his arm, and he turned, smashing her to the floor with his gun.
The past several months replayed in my mind... her velvet-soft skin... the warmth between her thighs... sunlight on the wildflowers, as she danced through the blossoming fields.
The room wheeled around me, and grew dark. His voice echoed like and ancient god. “You no-good bastard son of a crooked whore! I’ll bury you!” His boot was on my chest now, now kicking my ribs. I was losing touch fast.
I turned and smiled at her, “I love you Annalise.”
The stars were coming out just then.
End
“DADDY NO!” She screamed - as the shots ripped through me - and into the wall of the ramshackle house. She leapt for his arm, and he turned, smashing her to the floor with his gun.
The past several months replayed in my mind... her velvet-soft skin... the warmth between her thighs... sunlight on the wildflowers, as she danced through the blossoming fields.
The room wheeled around me, and grew dark. His voice echoed like and ancient god. “You no-good bastard son of a crooked whore! I’ll bury you!” His boot was on my chest now, now kicking my ribs. I was losing touch fast.
I turned and smiled at her, “I love you Annalise.”
The stars were coming out just then.
End
For Ayesha, Wedding, 'Project 157'
Fresh - a soft and gentle breeze. Her hair tugged by the wind, her long white train trailing through the leaves.
White silk, so soft and bright. A brilliant twinkle in her green, green eyes.
For a moment I forgot my sweatiness, and my awkwardness melted away. My racing heart stilled, and our eyes locked.
I will never forget how it felt to see her walking towards me, her arm in her father’s arm, her bouquet held close.
Everything in my life became more important. Everything in that moment meant more.
The vows a meaningful, nervous blur; meant in heart if not remembered by mind. The rings cold on fingers, circles of silver gold.
That first kiss. Rushed, blushing, important. So very filled with love.
Wine and dancing, flowers, hugs from family and friends.
Then driving home in the rain so fresh, carrying her over the threshold. - Crap! I just banged her elbow on the door jam!
End
White silk, so soft and bright. A brilliant twinkle in her green, green eyes.
For a moment I forgot my sweatiness, and my awkwardness melted away. My racing heart stilled, and our eyes locked.
I will never forget how it felt to see her walking towards me, her arm in her father’s arm, her bouquet held close.
Everything in my life became more important. Everything in that moment meant more.
The vows a meaningful, nervous blur; meant in heart if not remembered by mind. The rings cold on fingers, circles of silver gold.
That first kiss. Rushed, blushing, important. So very filled with love.
Wine and dancing, flowers, hugs from family and friends.
Then driving home in the rain so fresh, carrying her over the threshold. - Crap! I just banged her elbow on the door jam!
End
For Sharon, This is Gonna be Harder for Me, 'Project 157'
“I never would have turned out like this if it wasn’t for you.” I spoke around the nails in my mouth, shaking my head.
Her sunken eyes looked up at me from her pinewood coffin. She had been pretty once, a real looker; but now her skin was beyond pale, a gross, veined grey. This was difficult for me. I hefted the lid on.
Lining up the first nail, I raised the hammer and brought it down swiftly.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Ten in all.
It took a rope and pulley system to heft the coffin into my truck bed. Throwing a tarp over it, I hopped in and drove out into the country. I shifted into reverse and gunned it, aiming for the deep hole I had pre-dug days earlier. I mashed my foot down on the break, and the box went flying into the grave.
It took six hundred shovels of dirt to make her disappear.
End
Her sunken eyes looked up at me from her pinewood coffin. She had been pretty once, a real looker; but now her skin was beyond pale, a gross, veined grey. This was difficult for me. I hefted the lid on.
Lining up the first nail, I raised the hammer and brought it down swiftly.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Ten in all.
It took a rope and pulley system to heft the coffin into my truck bed. Throwing a tarp over it, I hopped in and drove out into the country. I shifted into reverse and gunned it, aiming for the deep hole I had pre-dug days earlier. I mashed my foot down on the break, and the box went flying into the grave.
It took six hundred shovels of dirt to make her disappear.
End
Friday, March 8, 2013
For Columbina, Adrianné, 'Project 157'
Nobody could play like her.
Her fingers raced over the ivory keys with enough precision and delicacy to make a brain surgeon jealous. The raw emotion - and the romance she shared with that baby grand - washed over us few onlookers like a wave of ethereal ecstasy.
The music she shared with us in that dingy little venue painted the fading walls with new life. The washed out curtains burned vermillion once again, the flickering lights shone bright and warm on the old wooden stage.
There was almost something provocative about the way she played. Her hair and shoulders swayed to the rhythm of the music, as her fingertips danced on the keys... black and white / a flurry of intricate movements.
We stood with mouths agape, our hearts beating in our throats, wine glasses forgotten in our hands.
For years, those rushing melodies haunted me. Sleep, when it came, was filled with dreams of that night.
End
Her fingers raced over the ivory keys with enough precision and delicacy to make a brain surgeon jealous. The raw emotion - and the romance she shared with that baby grand - washed over us few onlookers like a wave of ethereal ecstasy.
The music she shared with us in that dingy little venue painted the fading walls with new life. The washed out curtains burned vermillion once again, the flickering lights shone bright and warm on the old wooden stage.
There was almost something provocative about the way she played. Her hair and shoulders swayed to the rhythm of the music, as her fingertips danced on the keys... black and white / a flurry of intricate movements.
We stood with mouths agape, our hearts beating in our throats, wine glasses forgotten in our hands.
For years, those rushing melodies haunted me. Sleep, when it came, was filled with dreams of that night.
End
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
For Donner's Girlfriend, Rainy Day Blues, 'Project 157'
It was one of those retro diners, complete with a jukebox and cliche’ fluorescent lighting.
The apple pie balance on my fork only made it halfway to my mouth as he walked into the diner. He was naked from head to toe.
Nonchalantly, but a looking a little haggard, he plopped down on a barstool and sighed. Sherry, the 67-year old ginger who ran the place, thought she had seen everything. But even she was shocked at this turn of events.
“Excuse me ma'am, can I borrow your phone? I’ve just been mugged.”
“Of course honey,” she replied, looking concerned, “And let me get you some coffee.”
I finally remembered the fork in my hand, and set it down. Grabbing my jacket, I walked over to the exposed stanger. “Here you are, you obviously need it more than I do.”
“Thanks very much.” He smiled. We sat together until the cops arrived, and he told his story.
End
The apple pie balance on my fork only made it halfway to my mouth as he walked into the diner. He was naked from head to toe.
Nonchalantly, but a looking a little haggard, he plopped down on a barstool and sighed. Sherry, the 67-year old ginger who ran the place, thought she had seen everything. But even she was shocked at this turn of events.
“Excuse me ma'am, can I borrow your phone? I’ve just been mugged.”
“Of course honey,” she replied, looking concerned, “And let me get you some coffee.”
I finally remembered the fork in my hand, and set it down. Grabbing my jacket, I walked over to the exposed stanger. “Here you are, you obviously need it more than I do.”
“Thanks very much.” He smiled. We sat together until the cops arrived, and he told his story.
End
For Salman, Waves and Night and Sharks, 'Project 157'
My skin sloughs off in chunks. Waterlogged, I believe that’s the CSI-style term. Up and over one wave, then down into the valley. An infinite rhythm.
Drowning sucked. The pain was more excruciating than anything I have ever experienced: the burning throughout my entire being, then the fireworks as my oxygen-starved brain clung to life.
Nothing surprised me as much as death though. I guess it never occurred to me that I would still be conscious, trapped in an unresponsive body, existing in this endless dream-like state.
Always dead but never sleeping.
Who could have known that the afterlife would be this way? No reincarnation, no heaven, no hell. Not even oblivion.
Waves and night and sharks.
Soon they’ll find my body. They’ll bag and tag me, and slice me open. I’ll be forced to watch my family and friends mourn, just to be lowered into that eternal night, wrapped in velvet flowers and an ill-fitting suit.
End
Drowning sucked. The pain was more excruciating than anything I have ever experienced: the burning throughout my entire being, then the fireworks as my oxygen-starved brain clung to life.
Nothing surprised me as much as death though. I guess it never occurred to me that I would still be conscious, trapped in an unresponsive body, existing in this endless dream-like state.
Always dead but never sleeping.
Who could have known that the afterlife would be this way? No reincarnation, no heaven, no hell. Not even oblivion.
Waves and night and sharks.
Soon they’ll find my body. They’ll bag and tag me, and slice me open. I’ll be forced to watch my family and friends mourn, just to be lowered into that eternal night, wrapped in velvet flowers and an ill-fitting suit.
End
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