This makes me happy…
This makes me happy…
This makes me happy…
For your consideration!
A thread of my award eligible 2018 publications.
“A Stitch In Time”, Survivor anthology:
“Superfreak”, Shades Within Us:
“An Accounting, Of Sorts”, See The Elephant Magazine Issue 4: Beyond Death:
“Chronology Of A Burn”, Vastarien: A Literary Journal, issue 3:
“Damned Cat”, Polar Borealis Magazine, Jan/Feb 2018:
“Fear Of A Black Planet”, in the anthology “It Came From Miskatonic University”, is still forthcoming. Unless I am informed otherwise, I will assume it is still slated for publication during the remainder of the year. I will edit this post to suit.
Again, from this story called “A Stitch in Time” there’s a speculative element, but… again…it’s not obvious here.
Sex abuse trigger warning, though.
This was the point of no return; you believed it.
You woke in the morning in the dark hour before the dawn, so worn out you could barely rise from your bed. You lay naked, bathed in sweat, a prey to the fevered dreams that had somehow caused you to rip off your clothes and bedcovers. The parting waves of the dream were still near, and you could feel it affecting you in every fibre of your being. Heather had been in your dreams, at her most beautiful, her most seductive, and spent the night with you, tantalizing you with the weakness, the glory of the flesh.
Closing your eyes now, you tried to picture once again her chestnut hair, Heather, Heather, hair light as a feather, dangling over you, fragrant with her favourite perfume, a perfume she wore just for you; you feel her touch, her naked warmth. Imagining yourself reaching up your hands, you sigh and part her tangled hair – and see your father’s face.
Your eyes fly open, a cry wrenching your throat apart, but you won’t let it out. You turn to your side on your bed and, denying the howl release, you beat at one of your forearms, the spot pulsing and livid, till the sensations inside, the feeling unclean, the all of it, passes, and you feel something close to normal once more.
This is a spec fic piece, although the snippet doesn’t show it.
Called A Stitch In Time.
Or maybe this is where it starts, maybe this is ground zero.
It’s been a little while since your girlfriend’s funeral.
You’re awakened by a phone call. You drag yourself out of bed to get to your cell phone, in a pocket of your clothes on a chair but when you get close, your hand advances a few inches then retreats and falls limp at your side. You force it to reach out again, but again it stops short, as if it’s collided with a pane of glass.
You’re going to cry. You knew that the tears would fly out of your eyes, and the sobs would fly out of your throat and you’d cry for a week. You could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in you like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full, and then the salt tears and miserable noises that had been prowling around in you all morning burst out.
You feel like you have nothing to look forward to so you crawl back into bed and pull the sheets over your head, but even that didn’t shut out the light so you bury your head under the darkness of the pillow and pretend it’s night. You can’t see the point of getting up.
You’d tracked the blinking second indicator on your alarm clock, you’d tracked every minute, every hour, without missing a second or minute or hour. Right now you could see day after day glaring ahead of you like a broad, infinitely desolate avenue. Without her.
But you can only track the time on your bed for so long, and your body feels restless and the sun is going down and you finally get up, you don’t know why, you’re not even sure about doing it at all. The thought of washing makes you tired just thinking about it and so you pull on your pants, you shrug on your coat, you grab your keys and out you go through the door. You don’t know where you’re going, but maybe if you walked the streets of downtown Toronto by yourself all night or something maybe the city’s vibrancy and magic might rub off onto you and rub away the way you feel inside and you wouldn’t feel like giving up on everything.