“Ready,” the squad officer shouted out. I stood at the ready waiting for the order to shoot. Five rifles with laser sights pointed at the target dancing with my heartbeat. I took a short breath. The laser lights danced again. “Citizen, society demands control, which you have none of.” The words bounced in my rattled head. “You will learn to control your impulses. Or the dead will pile up.” Freedom or conformity. Transformation or tradition.…
I am on a mission to solve a murder that happened the very first time I was here. So far I keep finding ways to die. Eternal life lives up to the hype and I keep returning as a human. It could be worse; I could be coming back as a mutt.
She stuck to the slide. The skin burned against the metal and for weeks no one would attempt it again. She hid her legs, except for Easter when her mother made her wear a dress. She stood against the kitchen cabinets hiding the matched squares on her thighs. Other Writings You May Like Scribble, June 21, 2019 What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate Sheep May Safely Graze – Part Three Just Add…
The remaining packages sat near the green door waiting for the next thief and all of them contained something messy and ugly. Our homeowner spied the woman’s face on his phone. Lovely. She likely won’t come back. Too bad she only took the small box. The biggest package contained the head of the last guy who tried to steal from him. A cold, wet, sticky, nasty, bloody head.
The basement was full of shadows and it took a second for my eyes to adjust. The diamond pattern in my new contacts flashed golden sparks in my eyes. Through the glitter, I could see Dan’s outline on the table where I had left him.
Sally took longer than she needed to pour the coffee. I’m sure glad everyone could gather at their usual breakfast spot as if nothing had happened. Assholes. In my present state, I felt like someone made me suck on an exhaust pipe all night long. And my brother Dan, the weatherman, was dead. Not that anyone around here seemed to care that he lay below them in the basement.
The lantern on her helmet started to flicker and went out. She now hung in the dark, the water dripping in a slow rhythm. She closed her eyes. The loud banging drum returned.
Preacher Ashton delivered the scripture from Isaiah in a hushed whisper and ended it with a thunder clap. Mom shook her head in agreement while I hung on every word. Aunt Margaret said the preacher was smooth as silk, but I just thought he spoke from the heart.
The sun slowly filled the room with light. He stretched, yawned, and viewed the yard through the window. On the street young moms hugged their children and then sent them up the bus ramp. The bus ramp! No, no, no! He fumbled around for his glasses and grabbed his watch. He laid back on the pillow and vented. Overslept again!
Through the night, we stayed huddled around Dan who alternated between sobbing and screaming. We kept him as comfortable as possible, changed his bandages, and tried to keep him from moving around with little success. At one point, he tried to sit and all he ended up doing was sliding across the pipe protruding from his stomach. He shouted in pain and promptly passed out. This was really for the best because if he moved…