Lamont

The Porcelain Grin

How he slowly walked from the bottom end where her feet lay so that he could take all of her in. She was dressed in a fitting black dress, and her hands fastened together on her stomach. How still she was, like a peaceful sleep, but no breathing. How he got to her face and saw what his mother never wanted him to see: stab wounds where are eyes should be creating lengthy slits; a permanent smile jaggedly etched into her face nearly ear to ear; how he wanted to touch her face and it’s like she moved on her own as her head turned to him and he saw what her artist wanted the world to see- a permanent grin staining your mind.

The Code (Breaking Social Norms)

“I told you bosoms. She has nice bosoms. Hooters is such a derogatory word. Sounds like cheap beer, wings and a pill in the morning,” Allen said as the disgust rolled off of him and made his body shutter.

O George, Where Art Thou?

On his right, there was the long rectangular window that brimmed with droplets of rain and clear streaks, to look out of and watch… watch people, watch people walk, watch people walk and talk.. just watch.

Ineedyou. (Samhain Horror Anthology)

Emily’s jaw widened to scream, but it was muffled. It was as if it dried out, but loud enough for her ears only. The creature seemed taller now. It just stood in the darkness so silent.

The Writer Pt. 4

Robert visits his baby sister and continues to divert further away from what he wanted “his” day to be about.

The Writer Pt. 3

Robert, look happy, behave happy. Robert thought to himself as he sat in the backseat of a classic yellow taxi. He was on his way to see his sister and assist in whatever troubles she had gotten herself wrapped into this time. He looked out the dirty taxi window and marveled the River Thames. ItContinue reading “The Writer Pt. 3”

The Writer Pt. 2

Robert carefully and quietly crept down his creaky stairs. Paranoia invaded as he anticipated the wrath he would consume from what lurked in the kitchen and slammed things. He had been told one, two, three too many times what a lesser man he is compared to those more distinguished in high society. What makes meContinue reading “The Writer Pt. 2”

The Writer Pt. 1

Robert Whitfield laid in his shared bed and stared into the bedroom ceiling. A closer look and he could see the paint chipped in multiple locations, a dingy fan that was missing one of its blades and made an annoying creak at night that kept him awake. He focused on the piss-stained large yellow spotContinue reading “The Writer Pt. 1”

Life is..

Life is casualty Life is melancholy Life is lies Life is surprise Life is the end of the branch Life is the branch that begs to not break Life is the stick it becomes and fire it creates Life is smoke billowed into the winds Life is following trends Life is revelation Life is.. Life.Continue reading “Life is..”