everything that once made you appear beautiful

April 4th, 2010 § 0

They wanted your blood. The scent made them delirious with thirst. They wanted to smear that dark plasma like strawberry oil over their puffy, tremulous lips. They longed to suck you into their bellies like jello, every pulse of every artery absolving every sin.

They were well-meaning dogs that didn’t understand their own needs, their own demands—how easily they could tear your cornea from your face with their horned and padded feet. They were…gregarious bears that could kill you with a happy swipe.

Or maybe they were not so forgivable as all that. Maybe they were hungry for the inner skin. Maybe they were wolves working a red velvet rope.

» read the rest of the chapter… «

God Became Flesh and Found Hunger [Chapter 1]

November 3rd, 2009 § 4

It was time to write.

Tanya sat at the keyboard, facing the screen, fingers laid softly upon the home row. She could think of nothing.

What had been her last thought? How was she going to connect Nadioch and The Coming of the Dark days?

Her index fingers skated lightly in minute circles over the nubs on the F and J keys as she hung, poised on the edge of action.
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the last delivery

October 18th, 2009 § 4

“Villainy,” whispered the little girl in the elevator with the spider tattoo on her forehead.

Standing next to the large man, her eyes pointed up at his back.

Ding, sang the elevator car, descending. » read the rest of the chapter… «

violet passage

October 16th, 2009 § 4

Without speaking, she led me quickly down the corridor toward a moonlit window at the far end. A pale violet light shimmered back from the surface of her loose, voluminous clothes and we were enveloped by a hushing, rustle of sound as we moved forward.

Finally, we stopped, and she turned to face me. Her dark eyes glimmered with the intensity of spirit for which she was known so well.

“Do you remember why we are here?” she asked me. » read the rest of the chapter… «

author notes [envelope, please]

October 16th, 2009 § 4

i’ll note a few changes in the blog now. » read the rest of the chapter… «

original alien | chapter nine

October 14th, 2009 § 0

The man with the very large head lifted his chin because he was expecting an answer. His interest had greatly increased when he learned that Mictli had attended Brown University. Mictli didn’t care so much that the man found such a relatively unimportant fact of worth, he was more fascinated by how the man’s words and way of speaking were like plucking fork tines in Mictli’s mind. He heard the man’s voice as both musical and metallic, a dull nickle-plated tone with an unexpected twinge of melody weaving about. There was a rhythm to the older man’s speech that communicated the real questions in his soul, as there is with every person who uses speech in some way. Questions both found and denied, hidden to the speaker or held central in the cognizant mind.

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this clown of calm

October 13th, 2009 § 0

some talk about how anger makes you into someone you are not. someone apart from your true self. i don’t know. i want to see how people react when they are riled. until i know that, we’re still in the powdered sugar stage. anyone can keep a smile in place for a class foto. but when a fucker gets cracked in the head and can’t find a foothold, you see how they’ll use you, how they see a person. remember being a kid? you take note of those adults that get weird and crazy when they get angry and the ones that basically stay who they are but let you know stuff is out of place. kids know what’s up. and i do too. save your mustard jacket for the dog show. next chance i get to jam my foot in your ass, you’re off the bus.

imurga morning | chapter one

October 13th, 2009 § 0

He sits back into the lawn chair, and the vibration of the ships causes the entire earth to tremble. The entire cluster of cities rising into the evening sky shakes Niqo’s very bones, his glasses, his balls, his teeth, his glass of scotch and the chair he sits upon as well as the numerous tiny, red, glass, figurines dropping one by one from the edge of the window sill inside his small dwelling—but he can’t hear them and even if he could he’d not turn and try to catch them, because none of it matters anymore.

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chapter elseven

October 13th, 2009 § 2

He slides the prong from its jack with a greasy, measured motion, holding his breath and unconsciously tensing all the muscles from his thighs to his neck as he does. It is always an unsettling and repulsive and…yes, delicious moment. But how grossly vulnerable he feels, then, even all alone under those fuschia light racks. In that moment of transition, how revealed and unpeeled and defenseless and suddenly deprived of the glowing circuit-lit haze of comfort, his artificial womb.

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z-axis

September 26th, 2009 § 0

my landlady has been hanging around outside my apartment for days. fixing things and such. it’s making me crazy. i feel i should have a day rent-free for every day i can hear landlords hovering outside my window. it completely interfered with my filming yesterday. i knew it shouldn’t have. i know things change. i know you roll with the change. but there’s a reason sets go on lockdown when you roll.
» read the rest of the chapter… «

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