Tag Archives: One Shot

Ballet & Brains

Tobi didn’t know how long it had been since he’d shaved. Two days? Three?

He rubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw in thoughtful contemplation, staring straight ahead without really seeing.
Maybe he should buy a razor.
He didn’t have one at the apartment, nor did he have other normal things, like a bed frame, a kitchen sink, or a couch.
He had cushions and bean bags in place of the last, a mattress thrown on the floor with a collection of ragged old blankets set atop it, to suffice for the first, and for the middle, he used the shower in the bathroom. It got interesting, maneuvering around cereal bowls while one scrubbed one’s hair, (when one did wash one’s much-ignored hair, that is,) but Tobi’d gotten used to it. Continue reading

Spicewine, Installment 1

The old house held many secrets.

They’d discovered hundreds, many of them lost again nearly as soon as they were found.

Scar and Sissy, always together, always looking. Pricilla Rosalyn, or Sissy Rose, to her friends.

Scar, or Scarlette to only her.

“Why do you have a girl’s name?” she’d asked him once as they sat in the rafters of the house, each on their own, their legs swinging in empty space.
“It’s not a girl’s name,” he’d said defensively, shifting his position to a lazy sprawl on the wide beam. “It’s my name.” Continue reading

The House

There is a house where no one lives.

Nobody wants to live there, because the eyes of it watch you in all you do. There are eyes that no one can see, the eyes that always see you.

There is a yard where nobody walks. There is no one to cut the grass in the yard, and  not a single person steps in, not even once.

Nobody steps in, because there are dead things. There are headstones, carved with dates and names, and there is flat grey dirt in front of each headstone. Nobody wants to cut through that yard, that yard with the grey dirt and the grey stone and the sharp grey grass.

In this yard that nobody cuts through, behind the house where nobody lives, there are crows, and they watch you.

There are crows because there are graves, and these crows hop along the skeletal branches of the trees next to the graves. They tilt their heads, and they watch you with their fathomless black eyes. They watch, because they know if you step in, you are in their territory.

You don’t want to be in their territory.