Batteries

In sixteen seconds, everything in my car was stolen. The hair dryer, plastic bag, trombone, corn on the cob, and newborn kitten were all taken. I stood in disbelief, wondering if what I was looking at was real or not. I blinked twice to realize that it was not. I got in the car and drove away.

Heaven

This mind found no solace in a creeping, sleeping will o' wisp. My feet carried my tired body across the empty beach in hopes of finding some lost part of my memory. The night was cold and the ocean birthed mysterious lights that rivaled the stars.

I thought of Carrie, and wondered why she would run into the fire knowing full well that it was hollow and empty. The lights over the water glowed brighter. I remembered what she said to me, seconds before the licking flame engulfed her figure. Her voice was soft and kind, like a mother cooing to a child. She said to my shaking head, "It doesn't make any difference what the fire does, it's what it is. Every flame knows the same story, but significance shows its face when death is inches away."
The fire burned her body quickly.
As I considered those words, the now blinding light was dancing across the water's surface. It was remarkable. The sheer beauty of it took my breath away. I pulled my coat tighter and called out to her, "Come home my dear!" The light stopped moving and hovered low over green sea. I froze in fear. Perhaps it was the biting wind, but I suddenly found myself incapable of moving. The light sat eerily still, haunting and beautiful in its own way.
Without warning, it shot up toward the stars, producing a humming sound on its skyward journey. It brought a tear to my eye, but I thought it silly to cry over such a thing. Heaven engulfed the speck of light with open arms, and it seemed appropriate to wave farewell.
I walked home alone, but found a trace of heaven strewn throughout the street. Paper lay everywhere. I picked up a shard and knew from the word inscribed on it that this was a gift from her. She had written a single word,
"Home".

of 22 wolves

Of 22 wolves, only the youngest, and most brash, returned with a challis of fire. He read aloud the ancient words of Incro-Falance. Quickly afterword, his dad destroyed all of his CD’s inches in front of his contorted face. A scream erupted from the young wolf’s heart, but the only noise he made was a whisper: “Tumblr…”

Heavy the Growl

I was in fact, a murdered butcher's boy. A son, caught in the fire of another man's dangerous idea. I died in 22 hours, after bidding the doctor's note farewell. I saw all my teacher's & classes, fulfilled each & every wish. But to cut the call a short, another short, a shot, hot shot of tens of tens. The lens. A fringe on the edge of hoods & beams. I was the son of a madman, but the madman was me. I say that in the least artistic form possible, I must remind you, I'm dead.