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 |  My book for the 30 Day Image Prompt Contest |
Hmm, let's see how this goes...  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
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| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In the rearview mirror, I can see it flopping around in the street and I remember my father twisting the head off a chicken and watching it run around in frantic circles while its torn ligaments twitched, squirting blood on my shoes, beady eyes wide with horror, reflecting mine. I've seen them on the side of the road, rotting and waiting for buzzards to come by and swoop them up for a late lunch, but now I'd felt the bones crushing beneath the heavy weight of my tire, burning friction over the speed bump and I pictured it screaming in my mind as it attempted to make sense of its blood-soaked fur and the carnage, total loss of life, it would soon face after the last bit of adrenaline seeped out of its crushed skull. Leaning forward, I turn the stereo back up, tapping the beat against the steering wheel as I feel it crunching beneath the weight again and again, and sort of wish we could switch roles and I could twitch against the pavement and ebb out like roadkill. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steam breathes from the underground, the way way down where rats curl into moldy sleeping bags, gaunt and diseased, and try to find a usable vein for their next dose of amber honey. This part of the city isn't shown on maps; no census taken, as if it never existed at all. But in the darkness of a stairwell, the walls have eyes and they watch, waiting patiently for something shiny to catch their attention, something that can be pawned, like your grandfather's watch from the war or your grandmother's gold necklace from her flapper days. Because we all have stories and wants and needs, but yours matter least when you find yourself on the wrong end of a sharpened blade, feeling its tip press against the soft flesh of your neck, and you know it's hungry for blood, to poke a hole in your jugular and watch you bleed out, alone and cold, on the stairwell floor. |
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That last line is beautiful too.
It just... happens sometimes. 