Recent Prose

C.S.A.

"Hey, dude. Check this out," Marcus called to his roommate. They had stopped for gas at a station off the interstate, a little south of Atlanta. Joel was filling the tank of his Honda and Marcus stood looking at the pickup truck parked at the pump in front of them.

 "What?"

 "This bumper sticker. You gotta' see it."

Flux
Wm. Anthony Connolly

I’ve changed my hairstyle so many times now; I don’t know what I look like.
– Talking Heads, “Life during Wartime”

PART I

  I had just woken up, still groggy when the phone rang.  “Hello?”  I was still getting my bearings, scanning the bedroom as I walked out to the living room to grab the phone.

  “Hi, is Claire there?” came a male voice.

What the fuck is self reflection? Writing down how I feel? Talking to myself? I guess that's 'normal' self reflection. Let's take a look at the abnormal side of things. This short story thing is called:
Self-Reflection of a Mad Man: Part One

1,2,3, go!

Like most days, Caleb started off his morning with a warm glass of blood. It was kind of tangy, O +, and the consistency was a bit off.  It made his head ache like the end of a sugar rush. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been living on college campuses for the last twenty years. The bottle was clearly marked “virgin”. Every vampire knew that stuff was like soda: you go long enough without it and it tastes different.

I'm on a trip to nowhere with the radio down, thinking. Thinking of a time when this silence didn't exist; my ear, full of your words; my car, full of your laughter. A day when my hand shook nervously as I took hold of yours; your fingers fit so perfectly like a diamond ring. I felt a rush of warmth as I looked into your eyes, into your soul, and our lips touched like an explosion, as if we were gas and matches. The fire spread like an angels wings, rising up, taking us to a moment of bliss. For now, it's gone, you're gone.