Archive for the ‘Vile Words’ Category

Sharp


16 Jul

From The One-Minute Writer:

Write a brief piece of fiction using the prompt: Sharp.

Sharp.

Was it sharp enough?

He drew it along his thumb and was fascinated by the red pearl that welled up underneath the glittering blade.

That was sharp. He didn’t feel any pain from the cut.

At least, he didn’t think there was.

Holding out his index finger he placed the blade against the pad and drew the blade smoothly across.

No. There wasn’t pain.

He smiled.

Baring his wrist, he watched as the thick, blue vein pulsed just beneath the skin. He allowed himself a moment to drift as he watched the vein pulse, and for a moment, just a very brief moment, he forgot about everything. When he was sure he could think of nothing but that vein and the blood that it held, he drew the blade across it.

Oh!

Good God help me!

That hurts! It really, fucking hurts!

Then he saw the blood. It wasn’t like the slowly, almost prettily oozing pearls upon his thumb and index finger. This was a wash of blood that spilled over the edge of the white porcelain sink and onto the cold, white, tiled floor.

It was obscene.

Never had he ever seen something so terrible, and yet, as much as it hurt, as much as it was horrible, he could not take his eyes away or do anything to stop it.

And then the wash became the trickle he’d expected. A dribble, actually. And, it didn’t really hurt all that much anymore. He just felt… sleepy.

When had he joined the pool upon the tiled floor?

Gary’s going to be so mad about this mess.

His words were slurred, but he didn’t know it. He closed his eyes, telling himself he’d feel much better after a short nap.

. . .

The blade was very sharp.

What Can I Do?


23 Aug

What can I do to entertain you? I’ve tried dancing, but since you wouldn’t partner with me, that fell rather flat. You’re quite bad at chess… I mean, really! Did you have to steal my Queen? You just took her off the board and threw her out the window! I didn’t really understand that. I can’t feed you since it’s just a bit difficult to gum your food. A little tea, maybe? I’m sure I have some Darjeeling around here. Ah, no tea, then. No coffee, either, though. Caffeine just isn’t good for you and honestly, all that decaffeinated stuff is just plain crap.

I know! Do you like balloon animals? I used to do those… at kids’ parties. Don’t look at me that way! I may have questionable morals, at times, but I can assure you, I haven’t any designs on children! Truly! I believe, firmly, that children are our future; they are our better selves. It’s why I don’t have children. I am… broken. There is no better “me”.

Oh look what you’ve done now. You’ve gotten me to analyze myself and I really hate that sort of thing. Don’t you know that I’ve met with some of the best head shrinks in the world and there was nothing they could do for me except to give me handfuls of medication? Gah! I despise the zombie effect of the drugs. They were nothing more than an inducement to sending me off a bridge.

Yes, I know, you heard I’d come very close. I stopped all traffic that day on the Golden Gate. It was so awfully tempting and that water below the bridge was incredibly powerful to watch as it flowed beneath. I still think I should have let go, but that police officer… well, she was terribly compelling. Such a soothing voice she had. Absolutely deceptive creature, though. Locked up in a jail cell for nearly 72 hours and then carted off to that hospital where they did nothing for me except give me a new bottle of pills and a pat on the head.

Doesn’t help you at all now, does it?!

Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to shout at you. It isn’t your fault at all. There, there, now. I really cannot allow a guest in my home to cry. Are you certain you don’t want some tea? I’m sure it might make your bleeding gums feel so much better. Tea’s supposed to make everything feel better and it’s not my intention to make you feel any unnecessary discomfort.

Oh dear, don’t argue with me. Some discomfort, and yes, even pain, is entirely necessary. Consider it a catharsis for you and for me, too. Without your screams, I really am not able to feel entirely cleansed. And, truly, I’m not an unfeeling, heartless monster. That’s why, while we’re taking a break, I wanted to entertain you somehow. Get your mind off all this… uh oh! Have you started bleeding again? You shouldn’t mind it so. Don’t you find that the blood loss puts you to sleep?

Oh my! You’re crying again. Here, let me take care of those tears. You’ll have my waterworks going in a few seconds here if you don’t stop, we’ll never finish and we’re only half of the way through.

Are you sure you won’t have some tea now? Yes? You will? Wonderful! As I said, I’m sure I have some and it will only take a few minutes to boil the water, so you just relax. Don’t go away, all right. If you died now, I’d hate to start all over again with someone else. Not after we’ve developed this fine rapport, you understand. It’s so hard for me to cultivate relationships and I truly have found something so meaningful with you. I rather think you understand me, too, don’t you? Yes, I thought you did.

Now, here’s your tea… You didn’t! No! That’s completely unfair of you! Ten minutes! I was only gone ten minutes getting your damned tea you begged me for! Don’t you know how long I planned this?! How many days and nights I watched you to make certain you were the one I needed and you’ve gone and done this to me?! I wasn’t finished!! We weren’t finished!!

Dillard Won’t Leave


02 Nov

“Get off the step.”

Dillard just stared in that loose-jawed manner of his.

“Get off the step,” I firmly repeated myself. Dillard didn’t move so I stuck a fork up his nose and twanged it.

“Nowwww, that weren’t at all puh’lite, Sandy,” he gawped, tugging the fork out of his nostrils.

“Get… off… the step, Dillard. I’m going to kill you if you don’t move your red-necked, bone-rattling body from off MY STEP!!” I couldn’t help screeching those last two words in a semi-hysterical tone. Dillard was stepping on my last thread of patience.

Dillard sighed, a rather ghastly, mucosa-like sigh that gave one the sickening displeasure of knowing how much damage had been done to his lungs with his homemade cottonseed cigars. “Sandy, ya’ll just havin’ yerself a tough day an’ I kin see yer blood pressure be up a notch’er two. What say, ya’ll take a breather, muse-like on the sunny day here, and let’s be neighborly like ’bout this.”

Dillard had planted his flea-bitten carcass upon the step of my front porch five days ago. I don’t know why. Dillard has a habit of doing things with no rhyme nor reason. With him on my step, I was unable to leave my house. Not a terrible problem the first day or two, but now I am out of eggs, the milk’s gone sour, and my stores are severely depleted. Thus, the confrontation now taking place and my eventual reaction.

I cracked Dillard’s skull a crashing blow with my great-grandmother’s cast iron skillet. His skinny body followed the direction his head went, and he was finally off my step.

I Have Been Here Before

I am seeking a question.