i am me in the way the lilies unfold again

full and unyielding

pieced and steepled

rebuilt

rebuilding

porcelain drowning

call it devoured

let the birthing breathe

let the birthing bleed

Some of you know, but I recently cofounded a small publishing press—Querencia Press

We currently have an open themed call for anthology submissions, as well as always being open for manuscript submissions.

When my last 3 books were published, many of you asked if I could pass work on to my publishers, and I felt bad because that just isn’t how it works. They don’t care to hear about who you know and recommend.

That being said, I am the EIC for a press now, and would love to see work from the people who kickstarted my writing journey end up in print. If you’re interested submissions guidelines can be found here—

www.querenciapress.com/submit

We also accept work that has already been published, so you can even send us work that you’ve already posted here on Prose.

As always, much love, <3

Tonight, the king would take his last breath.

I ran my hands over the wood of the table nervously. It was a great feast to celebrate the new treaty and all of the council was present. I shifted my eyes over each face, gauging their loyalty. Out of fifteen, I knew only three could be trusted.

I played with the pork on my plate. All around, the men were doing the same, carefully watching the king with hunger in their eyes. The night before, I had seen this moment dancing in the flames of the fire, a prophetic vision. I had watched the king eat and drink heartily. In a second, he was dead on the floor.

A servant entered with a small flask of wine, placing it in front of the king. My father slid it to his taster—as was custom—but was distracted by a tapping on the table. It was his most trusted adviser, a man with a long face and gray beard.

“I wish to speak for a mere second, if I may,” he said. “I want to honor our great king and this peace treaty, and the future they represent. This wine is for our great ruler, specially retrieved for him from the deepest cellar in the richest winery in this nation. Thank you, my king and brother.”

The implication was clear, that the wine was too fine for the taster. It was clear to me at once. The wine must be poisoned, though I had been was sure my uncle was honest. My father hesitated, but he took the flask in his hands.

I desperately tried to signal him with my eyes, but he did not even look at me. He was a kind and fair king, but we had never had much of a relationship or connection. Thinking of the nation, I leapt from my seat. The men jumped to their feet at once.

All would see the snake my uncle was when I died.

Ignoring them, I snatched the flask from my father’s hands, downing it in one gulp.

HERE IS A picture. I’m 9 years old hiding under the covers of my bed. My arms are throbbing and inflamed. What’s going on in my head is it’s all my fault. Guilt. You can see my cheeks stained with tears. My teeth hurt due to biting my arms . Nine marks. Nine bites for nine years. My friend is outside with an ice pack on her leg. My dad is consoling her. He sent me to my room. Heidi and I were playing on the swings in my backyard. We were laughing. Childhood joy. But then she fell and scraped her leg. Waterworks. My dad came rushing and immediately declared that her injury was completely my fault. He sent me to my room. That was the first time I felt true guilt. True self hate. The first time I started hurting myself.

The snow covers the ground outside my home like a satin white death shroud. I have weathered the Christmas atmosphere and all the pomp surrounding it with a sense of grim finality. You see, despite all the joyous romanticism surrounding this time of year, I know the true nature of this soul chilling season. An evil borne from the stuff of nightmares was coming and no amount of peace on Earth and good will toward men could stop it.

So, I sit in front of a flickering fire waiting for that which would surely bring a black end to the naive merriment that intoxicates people when the days grow short and the first snow falls. Oh, I have tried to warn them, but they scoff at my efforts and call me a grinch. I wish I could slip into the same delirium that infects the rest of humanity, but I cannot. It is coming and I will meet my end with my faculties untainted by the warm psychosis brought on by egg nog, colorful lights, and Halmark movies.

The winter silence outside is broken by the harbinger of evil I have been waiting for. I hear the, crunch crunch sound of foot steps on my unshoveled walk as my end grows ever closer. My doorbell rings and I rise to meet my fate. My end may be near, but it will not be said that I ran from it. My hand shakes as I open the door. Outside, a phantom figure standing in the shadow of my door silently hands me that which will be my undoing. Envelopes embelished with the logos of Visa, Master Card, and Discover, bring me to my knees. The first credit card bills of yuletide. My fate is sealed. Death by debt most foul.

Dark and dreary

Restless spirits

Rising from their graves

The cold wind blows

Dry Autumn leaves

Rustling over tombstones

Beneath cold damp earth

...something stirs.

Damp soil percolates up

Over scattering leaves

Something moves

Rising beneath the gravestones

Clouds gather under a full moon tonight!

Rumbling sounds of undead rising

The living shall not sleep this night

The cold wind heard whistling through the trees

Voices

Low mutters

Soft moans

Piercing the cold dark night

Cold,

Lifeless

Disembodied voices cry

...In the wind

The rotting stench of death

Permeates the air this night

Flesh decaying

Their trunks swaying

Pumpkins sit outside

Candles lit inside

To scare away

Those souls who wander tonight

The undead, stumbling, walking

Decaying hands outstretched

Need to feed

This one night of the year

Mingling with the living

This one special night

What tricks might they play

Upon those who refuse them?

Or will it be treats tonight

For those who walk alone

Disguised as the living

As beggars upon your doorstep

Fooling the living

Freedom from the grave

They walk upon the earth

One night of the year

Dark and dreary

Misty, gloomy

Midnight strikes

Time to sleep again

Crunching leaves

Upon the cold ground

Brown and lifeless

Scattered in the wind

Slowly I place my hand

Upon this chest

Where I dare not look down

To confirm my suspicions

Sadly, I tear upon the decaying flesh

Where once upon a time

A living heart

...Beat there

(c) BAM

Happy Halloween Everyone!!!!

Suzie Slasher didn’t age

Her parents kept her in a cage

One night when the moon was high

She slipped through the bars to say good-bye

She woke her mom with a kiss

Smiling like nothing was amiss

Except before they could yell

Giggling, she went to the mantel

Suzie picked up a glass vase

and smashed it into her dad’s face

“Okay, We’ll buy you a pony! ”

“Oh, It’s too late for that Mommy”

Tying her mom to the bed

Suzie climbed out the window and fled

Curtains already on fire

Soon no trace of what transpired

Since then, no one dares say no

Spoiling her rotten with kowtow

If Suzie Slasher wants to play

Careful of what you want to say

For she’s only gotten worse

Being Suzie’s friend is a curse

But you’d better play along

Lest you want a verse in this song

Around two years ago, I was 26 and had just bought my first house. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I was really proud of myself. I felt like I had finally “made it.” A responsible adult residing in a quiet suburban neighborhood, working from 9 to 5, living the “American Dream.” This delusion was only strengthened when I received a knock at my door. I naïvely assumed that it was a friendly neighbor coming to greet me.

I opened the front door to find an impressively tall and burly man. He had a long ginger beard and was sporting a red-plaid flannel. He looked like a modern-day lumberjack. He also just happened to smell like barbeque ribs. This must be the guy who hosts the neighborhood cook-outs, I assumed.

“Hey there, pal! The name’s Chuck. I saw the moving van this morning. I was mowin’ the grass and I thought I’d come over to see the fresh meat myself!” He offered me his hand, which had to be twice the size of my own. His grip was so strong that I was certain he would break my entire hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chuck.” I had always been a pretty socially awkward guy, so the formalities of this introduction made me tense.

“Don’t be so jittery, cowboy! I didn’t mean to startle you. Say, would you mind if I try and make it up to you?”

He flashed me a toothy grin. It looked like he had some sort of meat stuck in his teeth. This only made me more unnerved, but I sustained my optimism and I convinced myself that this was just a normal, neighborly thing.

After agreeing to his proposal, he basically dragged me to his house, which happened to be directly across from mine. His lawn was so overgrown that the grass brushed my knees, and his house looked like it was about to collapse. The windows were broken, and it looked abandoned. That was my first clue of something being wrong.

“Just a bit farther, friend! I’ll cook you up somethin’ real special!” I could hear the morbid excitement in his voice, and I knew that I desperately needed to escape. We arrived at a small building behind his supposed house and he turned to look at me, still wearing that gristle-encrusted smile.

“Just give me a second to open the door here, buddy.” His hold on my wrist loosened as he fumbled with a rusty set of keys. I knew this could be my chance at escape if I was careful.

The door had barely opened when I tore free and ran to my house as fast as I could. From the glimpse that I got, all that was behind that door was a metal table and various medical instruments. I called the police immediately, but when they got there, Chuck was gone.

To this day I’m convinced that I narrowly escaped with my life, and I don’t answer the front door anymore.

Shelby sat down on the backless stool and ordered a Bud Light. She squinted through a window, yellowed with years of BBQ pit smoke. Looking back, she smiled at the familiar walls smeared brown. The greasy air clouded the mirror behind the bar. Taking a sip, she appreciated the cool amber liquid. Chuck’s wasn’t like most BBQ joints in that regard. The beer was actually cold, not like that piss warm beer they served at Three Pigs down the road. Absent mindedly, Shelby picked at her beer label and scraped lines into the label softened with condensation.

“Dammit, Danny” she thought. “Late again.” She’d already been forced to skip lunch due to the open house going late, and now this. She was selling her house—a bigger undertaking than she’d hoped for—even with the bad market. The plan was to move in with Danny as soon as possible. She’d explained to her mother that she loved him and besides, the money she’d save on bills alone would make it worth it.

“Hi Chuck.” Shelby said.

Chuck had come out of the kitchen to mingle with the guests; his usual routine for a Friday evening. He cradled a slab of pork ribs, baked beans, and collard greens. Shelby’s favorite. Grunting, he sat them down with a thud in front of her. The cutting board on which they were served stretched nearly to the front edge of the bar and sauce dribbled lazily down the sides to pool below the edges of the fall-off-the-bone meat.

“Chuck, I’m not ready for food yet. I’m waiting on Danny.”

“And how is Danny?” Chuck asked dryly. He didn’t like the man. There was something about him that Chuck had only recently been able to put his finger on. He didn’t like the way Danny treated Shelby and he sure as hell didn’t like the way Danny told everyone how much he hated Chuck’s food.

“He’s fine Chuck. He’s just running late.”

“What time was he supposed to meet you?”

“Six”

“It’s already a quarter till seven.” Go ahead and eat. On the house. If he gets here, I’ll make sure to invite him back to the kitchen.”

S

helby knew what Chuck meant. Danny had a habit of getting drunk at Chuck’s Place and telling people how dirty the kitchen must be in order to “make shit like that”. Just as Chuck hated Danny, there had been several things about Chuck that Danny didn’t like either. Especially the way he looked at Shelby.

It was nearly eight o’clock by the time she’d finished her rack of ribs and both sides.

“How’s Danny?” Chuck asked smiling.

“He didn’t show. Again” Shelby didn’t look up.

“No. I meant your food. How was Danny?”

My soul has been tainted

My soul longs for the one I crossed paths with

The one I couldn't have met by chance but at the same time didn't stand a chance with

The one where in a blink of the eye the whole world sighed as time stood still as my soul died

My soul has been tainted

Tainted by love and true happiness

fulfilled by a life I could never admit

that I wanted so badly but would never get

She was the one I was supposed to grow grey with

The one I was supposed to walk hand in hand until we died of old age with

The one that made me believe in soul mates and

Beautiful times of perfection topped with undeniable lines of imperfections

But to each other we were all we needed

She was the air I breathed and everything seemed

To fall in place when I was in her presence

It was like Christmas time as an adolescent

The mure thought of her was a present

And every moment had me counting my blessings

But my soul is now tainted

I lost it all in the blink of an eye

For a moment of time I wanted to die

But through the hope things would improve given the time

Maybe one day her love would find mine

My soul has been tainted

I can't even look at another woman anymore

Everything's confusing like hell knocking on heavens door

I had to let her spread her wings and attempt to soar

But now it's my heart my soul my everything that's sore

At every heartbeat I feel it rip a little more

Every breath I take is like drowning at the shore

So close to safety but the ceiling has hit the floor

My soul has been tainted

Will I ever love again the way I once did?

Will I ever have joy again the way I once did?

Will I ever dream again the way I once did?

I sure hope so

But my hope is fading the truth I am facing

My mind is racing while by feet are pacing

Debating

Wondering why it's myself that I'm hating

Forget about that, it's the whole world that I'm hating

Why must I hold the weight, it's the universe that's misbehaving

The stars aligned and everything was how it should be

It was the universe that fucked up and turned its back on me

I'm not being selfish, I just want what I deserve

Don't I deserve true happiness in this prison called like that I serve

I guess not

Because my soul has been tainted

Never to be the same again

This fucking stench called life, when does death ever begin

I'm over it, my soul has been tainted