a ghostwriter

The rain pelts down on the remnants of civilization—reflections of flashing red lights, flyers with blurred words, and discarded paper wraps. Tall buildings behind the mist are quiet, windows dark.I cross the empty street.My head tells me to hurry, but my feet feel clumsy. I glance behind and see no one. Hear no footsteps. Only shadows shrouded in the night rain linger.The rain pummels harder.Thump, … Continue reading a ghostwriter

a call

“Hello.”“Hello there. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m on my way.”“You’re coming to take him.”“Yes.”“Take me, too.”“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”“I don’t wanna be left alone.”“I know it’s hard.”“You’ve taken everybody.”“I’ll come back for you some other time.”“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”“You’ll be fine.”“I’ll have to be. Again. Alright. See you soon, Death.” For What Do You See #122. Continue reading a call

a witness

Yelling and shouting, I heard. Oh, I don’t know about what. I just saw the truck leave the driveway shortly after. I’d heard them argue before. They scream all the time. They don’t talk. They shout. One morning, I recall, she stomped out of the house, screaming, “I’ll kill you.” Then he came out, grabbed her, and went inside with her. The whole time, her … Continue reading a witness

waste collection

Beep, beep, beep. Wheeeeeeen, thud. Chomp, chomp, chomp…The garbage truck is loud at the end of her street, hurling the neighbor’s overflowing trash bin and crushing the waste to pieces. She sets her half-full container at the curbside and shuffles back to her house through the empty side of the garage, passing by an unoccupied dog house.Clink, clink…As she closes the door, a car key … Continue reading waste collection

dry

The rain pelts mercilessly. My parched throat craves liquid, but my feeble brain knows better than to swallow. Tugging the hood of the heavy rubber coat, I lick my cracked lips and taste blood.I hurry along the empty alley, spattering the reflections of blinking lights. Discarded flyers and plastic wrappers cling to the wet asphalt. The dark, silent windows of storehouses gaze down at me.I … Continue reading dry