Post Short Short Stories

No next?

 

Once upon a time, I feed chicken to a bird that turned into a cats dinner.

The chicken ate worms.

The bird ate the chicken.

The cat ate the bird.

I laughed, walked onto the street and got hit by a car.

The worms rejoice, for dinner shall be served.

Bury me in a field, underneath a chicken's home.

Ouroboros.

 

The last person on earth heard a knock on the door.

 

I laid in the dark, in bed. The only sounds from the kitchen downstairs: the hum of the old fridge, the tick of a dollar store wall clock, and the creak from settling floorboards.

Or was it the something else? Could they be footsteps?

Yes, they were footsteps. Heavy ones...

The sound of a vase shattering. It was definetly a vase. Probably the tall ceramic one my ex-wife had brought back from Japan. It had stood on an end table next to the living room couch.

The footsteps paused. I stilled myself and listened. They resumed, climbing the stairs...

My eyes scanned the bedroom. I realized I was trapped: no windows, no closets. Even the bed frame was closed off at the sides.

The footsteps were in the hall. I didn't dare move. Maybe when the door opened I could run past them? I wasn't sure, and at my age, less willing to try.

The footsteps paused behind my door. The doorknob shifted and as the door opened, I tried to scream...

 

This was my attempt to write something in the style of Cormac McCarthy, ie by using obscenely long run-on sentences and extremely elaborate prose. I would love to write something longer in this style some day.

Petrified fingers, misshapen bodies and gnarled limbs gave the impression they were grown from the earth like root vegetables, with skin as ashen as the mottled sky or black as boot leather, with hairless faces scrunched and squeezed with sickly frogspawn eyes swirling and swivelling loose in their sockets, one hard knock away from plopping out as they studied the man before them, one of them dancing a merry jig forwards, hooting like a primordial ape, at once both a vestigial outcrop of evolution transplanted to the here and now and a living aspect of everything that the waters of mankind's feeble destiny would eventually flow into, and then they raised their lumpen blob of wood to the sky like a conductor of the orchestra that plays at the end of all things and for a second it seemed like the effort of the action would make them topple over as they forced out a wail up from the cavern within their atrophied chest and out between splintered teeth as yellow as they were green and as hungry as the ceaseless ravenous cascade of cosmic entropy, but they did not topple, their song carrying on the lingering breeze to reach the pairs of gangrenous and puckered holes possessed by each of their compatriots and allowing the assault to commence.

 

I bought some short shorts and they’re comfortable

 

He couldn't get it out of his mind. The desperate heave, the surprised cry, the way the body flipped over with a springy elastic motion the slipper on the left foot flying off, and then continued into nothingness as the body disappeared below the balcony: still shouting; the splat, then silence. A dread gripped him and squeezed his heart, he started shaking. He hadn't meant to, he hadn't meant to.

The next several hours were a blur. He didn't remember exiting the flat. He didn't hear the buzz of horror from the people gathering on the sidewalk. Sirens sounded as he walked down the sidewalk to where?- he knew not where. The world was a horror. The horizon hung as if on a hinge like a painting, and all the figures in the this painting were like plastic figures hurrying here and there, a sickly pantomime of runners, sweat glistening of their plastic skin and grotesque dogs on leashes walking across vinyl pavement and peeing on enameled tree trunks. It was too much, too horrible, the deadness of it all. He had to shut it out. He closed his eyes but in the blankness behind his eyes even more terrible shapes formed and grew and clamored for his attention. He moaned, and a desperate thought flashed through his mind. The bridge. Yes: the bridge.

He was surprised then when a change in temperature registered by his skin snapped him out of his desperate reveries and he looked around to find himself in a building, a woman at a desk sitting in front of him with a bored looked in her eyes while a policewoman passed him on the right, open the door and letting in some of the hot summer air. Not the bridge. The police station. Yes: the police station. Why was he there? And why was he trembling so bad?

In the horror of the past minutes or hours- he knew not which- the extreme terror that now overwhelmed him had driven the reason for this terror from his shrinking mind. He did not know why he was there or why a terrible blackness was threatening to drown him.

But when the secretary asked "Hello, what can I do for you?" he remembered. He thrilled with the remembrance and his knees buckled and he tumbled to the ground. The woman, with a cry of surprise, rushed over help him. The cry. The same cry. Her face floated into view. He couldn't look at her. Turned away his head.

"I..." he began, "I..." And then a desperate pressure blew up inside him and the words came rushing out "I murdered a woman. I murdered Rebecca Chance."

There was a long silence.

"You murdered me?" the secretary asked.

 

Enjoyed that movie, but wasn't thinking of that lol. Now that I think of it it fits pretty closely.

Consciously, though, I was channeling Raskolnikov from Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

 

Carol island
What a beautiful island I have already slept with 30 different Carols and I haven't slept at all in 7 days. Why are they all called like that? A popular name given the name of the island I guess. But I can't take it anymore; I haven't slept in 7 days for having non-stop sex.

I close the door
Someone knocks
I open

-Hi I'm Carol I think you are cute and handsome- says a new girl
-You flatter me but I'm tired- I reply. She tried to close the door but she won't let me, we struggle she takes out a paintbrush and stabs me with it in the heart, I bleed out and suffer slowly.

I die
I wake up sweating
Someone knocks

-Hi I'm Carol, you are cute and handsome- says another new girl
She comes in and we make love, she leaves. I close the door and someone knocks
Another Carol "I think you are cute and handsome"
¡What's going on! I think, I try not to let her in, she grabs me, takes out a paintbrush and stabs me in the heart

I die
I come back to life
They knock on the door again….