— contains profanity. before you read, have a conversation with yourself to make sure you won’t be offended —
Walking down Main Street
See some guy I know, say hi
He-ey
Uhh hi
Awkward but it doesn’t matter
Keep walking
Go to Starbucks, order a tall cup of hot milk
A dibble dabble in the stream-of-consciousness style, by Alan Osmundson. All punctuation errors are intentional
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they skitter, they skitter around, they make the sound of a thousand clicks and a million clacks in the quietest room, clicks and clacks and ticks and tocks draining away, sucking away the seconds minutes hours of life. they click and clack and tick tock with the spiny legs the legs that are long like the ocean and sharp like knives, like pushpins ready to be inserted into the wall, the skin. do they bite or are they sneering, do they pinch or is it a caress like the devil the devil whispering murder bloody murder into my ear, murder for your own sake crush the opposition like a gnat under an elephants foot. i want it away I want it gone but how does one approach a thing that cannot be human but only malice only the embodiment of the worlds hatred sitting standing stationary at the corner sneering not biting not yet. will it go away if I leave it, if I shut my ears and close my mouth and sleep will it still be there in the morning will it sneer will it bite me in my sleep and if it does will it hurt like the knives and the pushpin in the wall but will I even know. but I don’t cover my ears and I dont close my mouth and I am wide awake and its hatred comes into me and I hear the whispers and I crush it like a gnat under an elephants foot and it sneers but it doesnt bite
Long, long ago, a man named Spester lived a quiet life in a quiet village in a quiet world. The village was fruitful, for each and every man, woman, and even child, knew his or her place in the flow of things. There was Eira the weaver, Anqa the smith, Sola the guard, Stratos the leader, and a host of others who made life safe and comfortable. Everyone was specialized. Everyone was efficient.
But something in Spester set him aside from the other villagers. His job was to hunt game that would go to sustain the many stomachs of the village. Indeed, Spester was specialized. Indeed, he was efficient. But he quietly denied his place in the village. Many a time he would find himself in the plains at night, not hunting, but looking to the stars sailing over the faraway mountains. He would gaze and wish he was standing atop those mountains, so close to the world’s ceiling that he could run his hand through the fabric of the heavens.
Wish as he might, Spester knew he would never stand atop the mountains, knew he would never touch the heavens, so a wish was the closest he would ever come, so a wish was all he ever made. And he would sigh with the moon and he would hunt once more. Continue reading
by Alan Osmundson
The landscape passed him in an incomprehensible blur. It fascinated him, how if he focused his eyes in a certain manner, he could tell what he was passing, and how if not, it all merged into a single swath of colors.
His fixation was broken as the train passed over a stone lying on the track, causing a mild but noticeable jolt. As he tore his gaze from the window he saw a woman sitting across him whom he had not noticed before. Her eyes pointed down into a book that appeared to be a fantasy novel. He observed her for some time as she read, an occasional smile rising to her lips, a subtle smile that wasn’t distracting, but just nice enough to brighten anyone’s day.
Then, as if by some act of extra-sensory perception, she looked up at him as he stared back and gave him that same smile, as well as an inaudible laugh. He attempted to reciprocate, but was unable to muster more than an unsightly grimace before she became absorbed by her book once more.
Disappointed, he turned back to the window and let the colors pass by again.
After some time, her voice tore his eyes from the window.
“Where are you headed towards?” Continue reading
by Alan Osmundson
“Ah, there he goes! Hello! Can you hear me all right?”
I struggled to open my eyes, but despite the effort the light only blinded me, and the lids shut again.
“Heavy sleeper, huh? Understandable… that’s understandable.”
I heard footsteps moving away and slowly began to regain my senses. I became conscious that I was lying on my side on what felt like sand, though it seemed excruciatingly rough on my skin. I began to hear a dull consistent roar that was at once calming and deafening. I tried to open my eyes once more, this time only to find that I was hampered by a pervasive pain that seemed to course from my bones to my skin and back again. Continue reading
Words 