Seeking someone with experience abducting aliens.
The little green bastards have been wandering all over my property for MONTHS now and I’m at my wits end. Just the other week I caught one of the scrawny things scuttling its way into my kitchen trying to scan my fridge with some sci-fi lookin space thing. I don’t know what it did but it turned all my yogurt lime green, still tasted fine though. The point is I need someone to make sure these PESTS don’t come back. Just grab one, give it the ol’ probing and let it go to tell its friends what happens when you mess with my yogurt. 50$ REWARD + 100$ if they don’t come back.
Daddy Issues
And on the eighth day god looked at his children with utter despondency. And on the ninth he abandoned them entirely. And years later he looked upon his project called mankind with feigned surprise and whispered to death, “Look. Stare straight into the son. Is it not the darkest light you’ve ever seen?” And then he sold us all to the shadows.
The lack thereof.
I remember, back when hungry was a permanent feeling, what it was like anytime anyone put food in front of me. Even saltines with peanut butter on them, they felt like a feast. A treat. Gourmet. Delicious. Spam? Like filet mignon to a small, empty stomach.
I think, sometimes it's like that with kindness. I spent a lot of years with a man that liked to be mean. It made the times he was less mean, it made those times seem like kindness. I feel like I've learned to take kindness, real kindness, as more than it's intended, now. I forget that sometimes people are just nice to be nice. It doesn't mean they care, not in any sort of intimate way. A man being nice to me, being kind, it doesn't mean he loves me.
I need to remember that. It's not love, even if it's nice. I ought not be so silly, to think that way.
The perfect house is not so perfect
It was the picture-perfect house. A small pink house sat at a corner surrounded by a white picket fence. In front of two perfect front windows sat rose bushes. An old lady walked though a perfect white door and was greeted by two perfect cats. Everything was perfect. Too perfect. At least that's what they thought. Under it all is something truly dark and horrifying was happening. Some call it a dungeon, but for this lady it was more of a hobby. At the ripe age of sixty-five Rose Collins began this place. Lured in people with this perfect place. Everyone wanted it and everyone came. Not everyone left. This town had over fifty missing person cases in the last five years. Lets see why.
We got invited, I tell my boyfriend, Zeke. We both moved here just a couple of weeks ago. This was the house he fell in love with and he cannot wait to see the inside. Rose, the owner of the home, has invited us to dinner.
The event is tonight and we both wanted to dress casual but formal. At six we left the house and drove off. Inside was as picture perfect as the outside. Just imagine a picture-perfect house. Everything was neatly place and not a single crumb. Behind an old wooden door was a kitchen stacked with treats. We were handed Rose's specialty cookie and we ate it. It felt like we were parting and had too much to drink. Zeke fell first and then I went.
"Where the hell are we?" I faintly hear Zeke yell. I am unable to get up. Something is wrong with my leg and my head is pounding.
Zeke: Taylor, where are you?
Taylor: Over here.
Zeke runs over to me and we find a wooden box with instructions.
So you made it. Glad. Your friend here I have injured because he would not stop fighting. Get out of here and you can keep your lives if not they are mine. Good luck, none have made it so far.
I try and stand but it is useless. My leg is broken, no chance of me walking on it.
Taylor: Go ahead. You do not need me. Save your life.
Zeke: No, I do need you and I am not leaving without you.
He ended up carrying me. During the first section, we found bodies. Many bodies. And we took pictures of all of them. At the end of this first section, there was something. A task to do. We had to crawl under barbed wire. Simple. Zeke went first and made it without a scratch. I went next and with one leg it was difficult. My head was spinning and by the end I had so many cuts. Zeke found our next box.
Wow. Your doing good. Not for long.
As we continued to walk, we found more dead bodies. At the next stop, we had to jump over a five foot gap. I went first this time and did not make it far enough. I was now hanging on for my life. Zeke quickly jumped to the opposite side and pulled me up. My leg is even more broken now. And there was box this time, so we continued to walk. Yet again, more dead bodies. The next one involved blood. Only a certain amount could open the door. I found a knife and slit my palm. The door opened. One issue though, I was still bleeding. Zeke took off his button up and wrapped it around my palm. We continued to walk and find dead bodies. In front of us was a box.
No one has made it this far. This is your last task.
We opened the door and fire engulfed us. Zeke ran, with me in his arms, as fast as possible. At the end we found a door that was attached to a park shed. Zeke looked perfect. Not a scratch on him. Only my blood was on him. I now have a severely broken leg, a badly bleeding palm, an inured shoulder from that five foot jump, and burns from the fire. He carried me out of the shed and to the nearby police department. Everyone inside was extremely worried that Zeke did this to me. They tried to arrest him and I only hugged him tighter. I said he is not going anywhere without me. They would have to arrest me too. Sorry not sorry. I got my medical attention and trust me it was a lot. This town is no longer our home. We are moving. We showed them the photos. Fifty-one in total. Fifty of them were the missing person reports. And the the fifty-first was of a fourteen year old Rose Collins. Who is that old lady then?
Through a Tiny Window
Through a tiny window,
I see a tiny man.
He cooks a tiny omelet
In a tiny frying pan.
He eats his tiny breakfast,
With his tiny fork and knife,
Then turns his head to smile
As he greets his tiny wife.
I watch in fascination,
As they dance around the room,
Where a tiny little jukebox,
Plays a tiny little tune.
Then she washes tiny dishes,
And sets them out to dry.
She brings his tiny overcoat,
Adjusts his tiny tie.
As he steps out of the doorway,
His eyes connect with mine.
It startles me so greatly,
That I fall on my behind.
I struggle for my balance,
And try to crawl away,
But my limbs begin to fail me,
As I listen to him say:
“Close the tiny curtains!
Bolt the tiny doors!
Lock the tiny children
In the cellar, ’neath the floors!
Grab the tiny shotgun!
And the ammunition stock!
Load the tiny cannon!
Bring the Uzi, and the Glock!
Get beside me, darling,
For this house we both must guard!
God have mercy on us,
There’s a giant in the yard!”
