Monthly Archives: May 2013

Nothing Familiar

I had hoped to have another piece of flash fiction to share but at the moment I’m neck deep in the final edits of two submissions. Here’s some lyrics to a song I wrote but for some reason I cannot find the recording.

Nothing Familiar

I woke up in a photograph that I don’t recognize,

There’s nothing familiar about this, it’s all new to my eyes.

I searched for a special meaning but I got nowhere

I’m trapped inside the unknown and it’s too much for me to bare.

Oh, it’s too much for me to bare

Oh, I am nowhere

I met up with a woman and she smiled at me

I begged her for some help but she ignored all my pleas.

I ran as fast as I could and tried to run out of here,

But I can never escape, held hostage in this fear.

Oh, tried to run out of here

Oh, held hostage in this fear.


Tortured Head

Here’s a poem that I wrote years ago. Enjoy!

first-world-war_1726570c

Tortured Head

Sitting in the coffee shop

Outside the window, a bus stop.

I sit and watch people waiting,

My actions for the day I’m contemplating.

It’s almost two thirty in the afternoon

The bus will be arriving very soon.

A shell explodes to my right

Dirt and blood spray in my sight.

There used to be men; now a shell hole.

Oh God, please save my soul

God, protect me with your heavenly shield

I am in Hell here on the battlefield

More shells rattle and strike in the distance

More men are wiped out of existence.

Coffee is spilled, a shattered mug on the floor

Waiters rush to clean and to get more.

I stared down at my own table

Standing up, I am not able.

I want to leave but am compelled to stay

It’s a typical occurrence in my day.

My sergeant yells to me to move on

Adrenalin takes me where my comrades have gone

Bodies strewn across the ground

Nightmarish slaughter is all around.

I dance around the fallen and the dead

While machine gun bullets fly past my head.

I trip and land amongst some corpses

Drawn to one face by cruel forces.

“Would you like some more coffee?”

The waiter smiles after asking me.

I wave him no and he walks away

He won’t ask me the rest of the day.

My mug is empty and at it I stare

A man bumps into me but I don’t care.

My body exists here in this time

My mind is elsewhere where the devil has dined.

There is a calm look on my brother’s face

Despite his body torn in half at the waist.

His eyes forever open, staring up at the sky

His final thoughts never told before he died.

My sergeant grabs me and pulls me along.

Alive, and leaving my brother, both felt wrong.

With my sergeant, running at his side

Hoping this offensive will help turn the tide.

In the enemy’s trench, in killing mode

Firing my rifle and his head explodes.

I continue to add to the collection of death

I have the unwanted job of stealing their last breath.

The fighting is over, exhaustion sets in

To comprehend it all I don’t know where to begin.

I’m on the bus, on my way home

Memories still haunt me deep in my bones.

I cannot escape the images in my tortured head.

The faces from war: both the living and dead.


The Tall Man

It’s been a while since my last post so here’s a story I wrote specifically for my blog. It’s raw and unedited but I do think the story is readable. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it!

The Tall Man

When the fog swept through the coastal village of Eastern Passage, Nova Scotia, night had already fallen. The street lamps attempted to provide a glimmer of light through the thick suffocation but were for the most part unsuccessful. Emily Johnson was seated in the living room of her semi-detached home reading the novel Roll Up The Rim by Leo MacKay Jr. when a dog barking outside caught her attention. She looked up from the book and out through the large bay window onto Osborne Street.

Joe Shelly was walking his German Shepard, Spartacus, out in front of her house. Spartacus was never on a leash despite by-laws yet no one could say anything as Joe was a cop. He never abused his power while on the job but outside of work he knew how to wield it to get his way. If anyone was foolish enough to call the cops on him, nothing ever came about it except Joe’s harassment and bullying.

Emily watched in disgust as Spartacus squatted on her front lawn and emptied his bowels. Joe looked up and smiled at her. She was about to turn away when movement across the street caught her attention. The fog had thinned out allowing her to see into the wooded lot and it was there that she saw him.

The Tall Man was hiding amongst some birch trees and was watching Joe and Spartacus. Although the fog had thinned out a bit, it still prevented her from getting a good look at him but she could tell he was over twelve feet. He was thin with wide shoulders but at the same time looked powerful. His face was long and narrow with a thick brow, and his eyes seemed to glisten in the fog. He moved slightly to get a better vantage point and Spartacus caught wind of it.

She could hear the big dog growling as Spartacus raised his head, trying to pinpoint where the smell was coming from.

“What is it, boy?” Joe asked. He started to look around too.

Spartacus’s lips curled baring his teeth as he caught sight of the Tall Man. His back arched and his muscles tensed then he sprung, running full tilt towards the wooded lot.

Although Joe still hadn’t noticed the tall man he encouraged his dog nonetheless. “Get ’em boy! Tear its throat!”

Emily watched both intrigued and scared as the Tall Man stepped out slightly hunched from behind the birch trees to face Spartacus head on. Spartacus leapt in the air but the Tall Man caught him by the throat. The dog snarled and snapped, trying to get to the Tall Man’s face. At this time Joe saw him and he paused as his brain registered how large the Tall Man was.

He quickly snapped out of it, “Hey motherfucker, put my dog down!”

There was a sickening snap and Spartacus went limp. The Tall Man tossed the dog’s body into the wooded lot where it bounced off a couple of trees before landing on the ground. Joe cried out at the sight of his dog’s demise and knelt down, grabbing the handgun from his ankle holster.

The Tall Man took three large strides towards Joe and swung his right arm out in front towards his smaller adversary. Joe pulled the gun and tried to take aim when the Tall Man’s open hand penetrated into his torso just below the ribs. Joe tried to scream in pain but all that came out was a bloody gurgle. The Tall Man curled his fingers back gripping Joe’s rib cage and lifted him off the ground.

Emily gave a small scream and quickly covered her mouth. The Tall Man turned his head and looked at her. Their eyes locked and Emily felt paralyzed.His eyes were primal yet emitted intelligence. The Tall Man gave a slight head nod and started back towards the wood lot. She lost sight of him when the fog thickened and was left alone with her thoughts that tried to make sense of what she had just witnessed.

Neither Joe’s nor Spartacus’s bodies were ever found despite intense searches. Emily was questioned a few times but her accounts were dismissed as no one would believe that a twelve foot tall man had killed Joe and his dog.

As time went by, Emily kept looking out into the wooded lot hoping to catch another glimpse of him.

Although at times she felt like she was being watched, she never saw him again.


Magazine of Bizarro Fiction

-the premier magazine of the bizarro fiction genre-

THE CRYPT OF HORROR

Excerpts of Fiction from Author Brian Moreland

Stefras' Bridge

The pen feeds the writer.

The Phantom Rem

Stories From Within

DEADITE PRESS

the very best in cult horror

Kevin Holton

Writer. Actor. Athlete. Wildcard. Loves coffee and Batman.

firefly465

Writer of horror/fantasy/urban/worldbuilding. All those nice things which mean I get to use my imagination.

BJØRN ANDREAS BULL-HANSEN

NOVELIST, SCREENWRITER & BLOGGER

MDellert-dot-Com

An Adventure in Indie Publishing

authorsinterviews

My interviews with many authors

Lovecraft eZine

Weird Fiction, Cosmic horror, and the Cthulhu Mythos

Savvy Writers & e-Books online

Writing & Publishing, e-Books & Book Marketing

Superhero Novels

News, reviews, and commentary about superhero prose fiction

Lit World Interviews

Share and Spread the Word About These Authors!

CA Liccardi, Author

Writer, dreamer... one of the good guys.

Emily Short's Interactive Storytelling

Essays and reviews on narrative in games and new media

Gringa of the Barrio

A Sassy Barrio Gringa Telling It Like It Is