Extreme Wickedness from a Queen
“Flagitious. Such an odd descriptor.”
Rising from his chair, he neared the beaten man. Flesh torn to ribbons. Blood dripping into the seams of the floor. Hung from rusted chains by his ankles. Naked, cold. Mortified.
The old man’s expression held little humanity, defining features bruised and broken. “Yet it is so.”
He walked around the shivering form with a wide berth. Cleaning blood from leather boots was much too tedious.
Questionable Remedy for Any Ailment
A hacking cough rattled my ribcage. Chills ran along my superheated skin. Muscles tensing sporadically, I eyed the doorway. A soft creak echoed down the darkened hall. How could her nostrum make things worse?
Swallowing stiffly, I shuffled into the living room. Grandmother rocked calmly in a cushioned chair, the ominous creak amplified. Graying curls clung to her wrinkled skin, glasses propped delicately atop her head. Her slippered feet maintained the chair’s momentum as she slept.
Relief flooded my foggy mind. No need to wake her. I’m sure I’ll be better soon.
Sensational Beauty in Natural Imperfections
Shadows shrouded the halls. No one stirred in the home. A door sat ajar, a slim beam of light shining through. Crossing the rough wood floors on bare feet, I reached the glimmer of light and peered inside. Wabi-sabi widened my gaze.
I slunk quickly across the halls. Fearing the view would vanish. Worried others would awake. Terrified that the unearthly joy would leave my chest. Grabbing my Bible and a blanket, I made my way back to my discovery.
Little Support for Outlandish Dreams
I unwrapped the small box, hoping for a massive wad of cash. Opening the lid, a worn-out Barbie doll in a neon purple and green dress looked up at me. Not the grubstake I was praying for. “Thanks, Auntie.”
Standing in my brand new boutique, moments from opening the doors for the first time, I stared at the battered doll as my Aunt Beatrice grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, don’t you remember that? Your first design.”
Hard to forget the pleated green skirt and draping purple sleeves, though I had tried.
Awkward Interactions and Contraptions
Bernadette sighed as she scrutinized the high school science project. Tasked with constructing a car that moves using mass, her student Fred produced an ungainly contraption with three wheels and even more pulleys. Everything was mix-matched and mis-colored. Random items like an Altoids container, pencils, and playing cards assembled the odd vehicle. Perhaps meant to be cool or resemble some form of HotWheels car, the project did neither. At least, in comparison to the other students.
Shocking Intensity of Hurricane Ian
Waves raging, trees blowing, sky gray. The rain battered against my walls, gusts raking across my windows. Ian was anything but emollient.
After weeks of seeing a few drizzles, the hurricane came. More rain but also more wind. I didn’t fear the storm, having survived so many before. My occupants were hardly fazed, walking my halls and playing games in the lobby.
The Humor in Trouble
His risibility would get us killed.
Let me rewind to this morning, when Gregory decided letting Mr. Peterson’s skunk loose in the football team’s locker room would be “hilarious.” Granted, it was. The normal antiseptic wipe smell of the high school halls got a little stingy by the locker rooms. Burly boys came running out, squealing like girls about their eyes and taste buds burning. Even Fenton “Flash” yelped like a toddler.
Gregory clutched his thin frame as he laughed his freckles off.
A Bend in Reality
Star Streak trotted around the bight in the river, leaving the crusty shore for trees and soft earth. The sunrise glittered in his white mane as it whipped around his black body. The smell of pine spread with the morning dew and birds twittered their to do lists for the day, but that’s not what Streak was following.
He came to a clearing, the river splitting and lapping lazily around the soft grass and daffodils. In the center was a grand oak, the first tree of this humble forest. Its branches soaked up the morning light, providing shade for the patch of land. And a small child, lying at its roots.
Decision Contrary to Appearance
He moved withershins of the crowd, pushing and shoving into the subway station. Screams filled the air as one voice boomed, “Don’t come any closer! I won’t hesitate to kill him.”
Darius pulled his badge out of his leather jacket as he came through the mob and into the abandoned station. White and green tiles crisscrossed the dingy platform, concrete columns lining the edge by the subway tracks. Three other cops surrounded the area, guns raised. Kneeling by the tracks was Darius’s partner, Detective Ramero. Above him stood a kid. Gun in his hands, muzzle on Ramero’s scalp.