Tag: flesh

Of the Five (Fetid Blood)

First I smelled it

Putrid festering

Then a sound

Clicking teeth snapping

And shhhffing feet dragging

Then I saw

Peeled lips

Lacking eyes

Slavering tongue

And sharpened fangs

Then it lunged

I felt its fangs

Sink, piercing flesh

Then a taste

Copper

Blood

Not my own

My whole body was warm

Burning

As it inj/fected me

With its blood

The featured image can be found here: https://twitter.com/jrgdrawing/status/1095578328180944896?s=21
It is what inspired this piece. Please consider following this artist as they are a fountain of fantastically morbid art.

One More for the Collection

A knife hissed through air

Inches from her face

“I always prefer those in their prime”

He mused softly

Eyes alight with something

It was red

And black

And full of hunger

“The skin of old people shreds like…

Wet paper”

His lip curled

As he pressed the edge

Of the cool steel blade

Against her cheek

Her eyes held something defiant

Brilliant and unwavering

Eagle soaring

Even so bound

And arms crossed

“I mean look at you

Skin so taught and tan

Ready for display

I’d say”

He turned and picked up a scalpel

Keen edge glimmering in candle light

“It’d make a fine prize…

But I think

I’d rather claim…

Your eyes”

Those eyes glared

Unafraid even in this

This horrible place

With such horrible words

He gripped her hair

And leaned in close

Blade edging closer

Closer

Closer to her eye

She kept them open though

And with a swift

And brutal movement

Yanked forward

And bit down upon his nose

Cartilage gave a sickening crunch

And the man screamed

Stabbing her shoulder with the little blade

But she held on

Eager for her prize

She twisted her head

And with a powerful tug

Came back with the majority

His face contained now

A bloody hole

Ragged and sputtering with air

He trembled as he grasped

And tried in vain

To staunch the flow

He stumbled back

With awkward gait

And collapsed upon the floor

She spat it out at him

Calmly she let go

Of the ropes

Which fell about her

In a loose coil

She stepped forward

And with a tug

Freed the scalpel from her shoulder

She knelt beside the man

Something sharp flickering in her smile

“Oh yes you’ll do nicely

Another monster

To add to my gallery…”

She growled low

Tracing the surgical steel

Ever so carefully

Around the curve of his chin

His eyes now filled

Brimming

With fear

Canning Methods of Old

“It’s best to begin it fresh. Canning preserves but doesn’t reverse” She growls, scratching her too-loose neck, skin scabrous and inflamed.

“I mean look at these beauties!” She holds up a jar, with tight packed digits of varying tone. “Got them packed in only an hour, and now they’ll keep for nearly a year…”

She sets down the jar and thumbs the stump where my fingers once were. “Oh yes yours will be nice crunchy and strong. There’s nothing like the fingers of a talented pianist”

She grabs the pile ten dripping digits, and shoves them into a briny bottle.

My vision slides blurs to the side. My final sight is her closing the lid.

Dear Little Danny

He was always the favorite

Dear little Danny

How mother doted on him

While I was left

Alone in the library

With my studies

And my thoughts

And my plans

All these years later though

I stand upon the precipice

Of a tall stone shaft

At the bottom of which lies

The broken body of

Dear little Danny

I can hear the tell-tale skitter

From the numerous holes in the walls

Before the multitudinous hordes

Spill forth

I watch the gruesome chaos unfurl

As he is devoured whole

Little more

Than a weak moan escaping his lips

Before he is gone

Remembered by none

Save me

And the rats which he fed

cat casebl21.txt

Siren klaxon announcing my arrival

Car quietly whining as it slowed

Electric motor’s gentle purr

I step out into the cold

Snow falling in thick flakes

Cotton covering to all

I pull my cap down

Flat top adorned with badge

Emblazoned with HIPD

As I approach the front door

Officer greets with a simple nod

I flash credentials

Holo-card glimmering in the dark

“Detective Kovar Nepovim

I heard it was suicide

Do we know their name yet?”

The officer nods again

Leading me within

“Her name was Bronislava Liska

And she worked for Ignis…”

I pause a moment

Holding up my hand

“Ignis?

Then why are we here?”

The officer shrugs

Opening the door beside us

“They tell me where to go

And I go”

I sigh and hold up my wrist before me

Display fizzles on

/HalcyOS Select Mode/

I select biological analyzer

Then pull out and pull on

A set of thin white gloves

“A coverup it is then…”

I grumble beneath my breath

The apartment is cramped

Shelves lined with dolls

Synthetic glass eyes glaring

Judging

Above

Silk hangs low

I brush it with my finger

It’s real

“Impressive…”

Expensive…

As I step farther in I spy her feet

Just hanging past the silk

Table toppled nearby

On the floor a reader

Opened to Poe

And a spilled glass

Of Synth-Wine

A bit overdone

A bit too staged

I know what this is

But still

I focus the analyzer on her

Face blue

Lips pale

Tongue bulged

Analyzer makes quick work

Cocktail of antidepressants and Synth-Wine

Some sad literature and there we have it

I sigh again

Sitting on her bed

Looking up at the remains

What remains of her

Little more

Than fertilizer

And some futile fretting

The analyzer blips

Something else

On the shelf

The doll

It has real hair

One eye is real glass

The other

A camera

I quickly pocket the doll

Evidence

I’ll analyze later

Yes

Later

I’ll include it in the report

The Creative Process

A young man stood

His head to a wall

Pulled back

Swung forward

And crushing his skull

Passerby cried

At this pitiful whelp

Folks tried to stop

To impede

Hell, just to help

He just smiled at them

His teeth a grisly mess

“Oh don’t mind me

I’m just an artist

And this painting, my best”

He mused “just a bit more

Then it will be done

Wait no

Not quite

I’ll erase this last one”

Featured image source: http://davidmoody.net/2014/04/18/hitting-head-brick-wall/#.XAVnORZMGEc

Twister Lit Contest

I was just tagged by the Twister Lit Contest hosted by High Tensile UK and found out this morning that I won! The winning tweet is the featured photo for this post~ The goal was to write a complete feeling piece of psychological thriller fiction within one tweet.

As part of this I am going to receive a signed copy of A Ladder to the Sky by John Boyne who is also well known for writing The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.

The other part is that I’ll be featured on their website hightensilelit.com when it goes live on December 9th!

I am so freaking excited!!! If you’ve found me through their website I do hope you enjoy my writing and decide to hang around~

This is the first writing contest I’ve ever won so this is also VERY EXCITING!

XIII

On the horizon you spot it

A gathering darkness

Like so many swarming buzzing corpse flies

The sun died behind it

Yet the sky before you

Still seems a simple sunset

But there

Bulging

Is that blackness

That badness

Quickly growing

Ravenously consuming

Your nails claw at your cheeks

Ragged strips of flesh fall away

A scream

Ragged

Tears from your throat

Your mind fumbles for reason

Some order

Some cause for all of this

But finds none

The walls scream too

And as the world dies

You glimpse behind the encroaching gloom

Something bright

And new

A Watchman’s Duty

I stood before our gates

Pike in hand

And ever vigilant

Breaking the rolling horizon

A figure approached

For nearly an hour

I watched its plodding progress

As it came close enough

I saw what it was

A lone robed wanderer

Their robes a sickly yellow

And twisted yellow mask

Grimace glaring beneath the hood

The eyes were bloodshot

And panicked

Though its pace never varied

I cried out to them

“Halt! State thy business!”

But still it came closer

I readied my pike

Tip gleaming in the noonday heat

But still it came closer

“I said halt!”

Again I shouted

But still it came closer

Its complete silence

Unnerving me most

But still it came closer

I struck out as it came within reach

And they collapsed in a heap

My pike buried in their breast

I leant down and removed their mask

Face sinewy and raw

As though they had been skinned

Their lips worked but no sound issued

I leant closer

Turning my ear

And faintly I heard

“Prepare

For The King is near”

When (do) I Sleep

Eyes so heavy

Sandbag weight

Sandman waits

To sprinkle down

. . .

Then they shut

Fresh hell

Flesh halls

Horror the instant I sleep

. . .

Eyes fly open

Gasping breath

Grasping bed

My whole body trembling

. . .

When am I sleeping

Eyes always open

Lies hallways often

Awaiting my return