Flash

Raw Material

Dinger downed his drink and burped loudly. No one ever dared say anything when he did that, he simply was too much to handle. It was true that, when he was keeping himself far from the bottle, he could be quite the nice fellow. But most days he essentially was a douchebag on wheels. His big greasy hand was still seizing Nadia’s arm and she, although smiling broadly, looked rather worried. There had been rumors about how he treated girls making the rounds, and each and every girl in the neighbourhood had sworn some kind of secret oath to avoid him at all cost. In reality, the fact of the matter was, some of them really needed the money, and however abusive he was, he always paid more than enough. Nick had heard all kinds of stories about Dinger, some bad and some worse, and he damn well knew that there was nothing else to do but wait. So everytime he saw the giant enter his little joint, his jaw tightened and he prayed internally for an impending apocalypse. Continue reading

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Flash, fragments

Intermittent Explosive Disorder

They made fun of Joseph, because of his name. And because of his ears too. He had big ears, they told him he could get satellite with it. He began to wear hats all the time, inside outside. Hats were the first shield he found, a cheap one, but effective most of the time. Then he told everyone to call him Joe. There was no more Joseph. Joseph was nothing but a nightmare, a pathetic sod, a poor excuse for a human being. That was what growing up meant to him, and when people laughed about these years, he did not. He watched over those years as a precious jewel, his own personal treasure. Continue reading

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Flash, fragments

Splinters

I’m tempted to write about how much this means to me. I really am. But then again, should I? I mean, who’s going to read to this? People are going to judge me? I don’t know. I feel terrible about all of this. And I can’t even begin to think about what “this” it. Strange, isn’t it? I know. The perks of being a human being. A man. A woman. A complicated walking thing. Yes, sucks. I know. But to be honest with you that wasn’t the point. Of all this I mean, of this nonsense. And not, the life part. That is a bigger nonsense that I couldn’t even try to put into words. Even images wouldn’t be accurate enough. No, what I mean is, gosh, where am I going with this? Well, okay. Let’s start again. Something happened recently. Something terrible, or something really good, depending on perspectives. And that’s the thing – I am both perspectives. I can’t say whether or not I’m pleased, or sad, or mad. Whatever. I can’t say anything anymore, about me, that is. And this, this impression, this feeling. This means a lot to me. Somewhere somehow, in a way, that’s what real freedom is. How? you’d ask. Well hold on a second. Close your apps and settle your phone down. Look at me and think. Just imagine you react to something without any preconceived moral, knowledge, rule of thumb or whatever the fuck, sorry, crossing that fuck out, or whatever else you could think of. Imagine reacting to something as if it was the first time you ever saw such a thing, as if you were back to being a child, not caring about oil, politics, psychopaths, cold pizza, whatever. Just imagine. Do you see what I mean? Continue reading

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Non classé, nonsense

Dot dot dot strange story dot dot dot

The climb was harder than it seemed.
Each movement scared him, drained him. His legs stopped for a moment, he was stuck, his hands gripping the bare rocks as hard as he could. He did not pay attention to the tingle in his fingers, all he could focus on was the landscape. Although they had kept telling him not to, he looked back. He often did on the way up, and it both scared and amazed him. I’ve come this far, he said to himself, that’s unbelievable. In some sense, he felt that even if he came to fall, if something were to happen, he would be fine with it. As fine as the situation would allow him to be. Continue reading

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Non classé, prose, short story, writing

Negatives (#1)

I stood there as I watched the tail light of his bike grow smaller and smaller in the horizon. He was gone for good, old times were gone for good, and there was nothing that could be done about it. He did not care anymore, he lost all his passion for his life, he had said. Is that enough to leave everything behind? Continue reading

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