Last story of the series Perpetuality! Destruction. He perpetually destroyed because he could. Not out of perpetual necessity. Not out of perpetual vengeance. Not even out of cruelty, for cruelty at least acknowledged the other. He destroyed in the same manner a storm passes through a sleeping town. “Why not?” he would often say...
There was a man named Jonathan Cresswell, and he was of two minds. One mind laughed easily, gushed over the beauties of the world, danced with friends, and drank deeply of every joy. The other watched, silent, severe. And while the first sang, the second memorized the cracks and flaws in the singer’s voice. All men are twins within themselves...
This is the third story in the Perpetuality series! “Why do you kill?” asked the Guillotined Man, his voice barely audible, shaking with fear. “To think. To live,” replied the Camel Rider, his tone devoid of feeling, as he stood by the guillotine. The Guillotined Man stared in horror. Was survival meant to demand bloodshed? Of...
He was billed as “The Laughing Man.” The hand-painted posters showed him mid-prank, a paper hat crumpled on his head, a ludicrous grin stretched unnaturally wide. Children pointed and laughed before ever seeing him, and adults smiled thinly, for they had forgotten their childhood joy. He waited behind the curtain, the grime of years soaked...
The Sea loved the Shore with a longing that neither wind nor tide could drown. Each day, the Sea clawed toward the Shore, stretching itself until its bones ached with salt and sorrow. And each day, the Shore stood still — receiving the bruising kisses with an indifference. Love that is unreturned does not wither; it festers into...
There was a man who lived at the end of Weller Street, and no one spoke his name aloud. No one knew his name, in fact. They called him The Patient because every day, at precisely six o’clock, he swallowed a pill from a small cracked jar and sat by his window, waiting for the hour of his undoing. The Patient was a creature of silence, his...
Second Part of Perpetuality! Read the First Part here Wonder. He perpetually wondered how it must feel to watch a life unravel: not in violent spasms, but in the quiet, deliberate retreat of breath, in the surrender of blood to the soil, in the resignation that no mercy was coming. It was a question, that unfortunately, had been answered for he...
First Part of “Perpetuality”! Wonder. He perpetually wondered what it would feel like for life to slowly wither away: not in the dramatic fashion of a sudden end, but in the gradual, inexorable manner like an autumn’s final leaf detaching from the branch, drifting to the earth, and serving as ridicule for bypassers feet. To...
The man sat at the table. His hands rested there each finger bent in a way that suggested some ineffable collapse. The room was filled with the sound of his breathing — slow, forced. His beard hung like the limbs of an old, dying tree; they were tangled and heavy, growing longer yet failing to find its roots. His eyes, half-closed, looked...
They call me The Archivist. I abide at the periphery of life, pen in hand, archiving the departs. Periphery is my home and the only place I exist, on the borders, far away from reach, whereas archiving is nothing more than my job. I do not take much of a keen interest in the archiving of these departs, yet my job requires me to be vigilant and...