Raphael Diego sat trembling in the small dark room. A single light bulb swung gently on a long cord. The bulb itself had blown some weeks ago, but Raphael still hadn’t noticed. The small beams of sunlight that would have otherwise seeped in through the tightly drawn shades were completely suffocated by thick dark blue comforters the man had tacked to the walls above the windows. The faint stench of mildew wafted from the walls, and the carpet under Raphael’s knees was damp, as if dew had somehow found its way into the drab little room. An ugly tan spot dotted with greenish-blue mold that sat lazily on the ceiling; the remnants of an old leak (Raphael often thought the mark resembled a chili pepper). (more…)
WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.
“Mr. Hawking,” his physics teacher used to say on an almost daily basis, “yet again, your namesake would be ashamed of your performance in this class.”
Classmates would snicker. Steve would blush and scan the quiz paper for the humiliating red letter scratched across the top.
“Why are you so dumb, Hawking? Hey Hawking, you’re no Einstein!” echoed the schoolyards and yellow buses. (more…)
Continued from Untitled part 2
I’m looking up, miles and miles away from anything. Miles from the asphalt beneath me, miles from her teeth. I’m looking down an extremely long soundproof tunnel. The only thing I can hear is a heartbeat, some muffled noises…the sounds brain cells make when they die screaming. (more…)
I came to in a muddy stupor. Screaming, fucking screaming was my alarm clock, on the hood of my car, someone was being devoured. How I was still alive I had no idea, the G was picking Prick up and slamming him down on the hood by his ribs, I shook my head as clear as I could and grinned as the first thing I saw was the G’s greasy fingers dug completely into Prick’s ribs, to the first knuckle. His head cracked the windshield. He was still alive. (more…)
–It was never clear where or how these patrons ended up going. The “how” was eventually taken care of first by a busboy, then a cop, then a coroner, then a bunch of people in green scrubs saying, “what the fuck?” quickly before they had their throats ripped out. (more…)