Deep, deep, black underground, the spidery dead refuse tumbles down, heavy-stomached, bouncing, leaping, twirled on the slope. The flames flare higher a moment, then not. No spirit escapes; all is consumed. Elsewhere, other, uncountable, existences shimmer.
death
Ring, ring
Ring, ring. Stevie wasn’t thinking about the money any more; he’d even stopped fretting how such a good idea could have gone so bad. He was meant to be away somewhere, just him and Marcie. Ring, ring.
Not hung up on a meat hook wanting it all to stop.
Ring, ring. He was dying to hear that old-school tone on his phone again but there was silence. Five minutes until the man came back. And then nothing. Ring, ring.
http://www.paragraphplanet.com 06 November 2013
Two people got on the train
Two people got on the train. One sat on either side of me. One smelled of the death of other people. The other smelled of mine. We got off the train together.
My wife’s fiancé was killed in the desert
My wife’s fiancé was killed in the desert. He was out patrolling with his comrades when their life on this earth ended. It ended in a flash, with a silent roar, a silent scream and a cloud settling gentle as a careful shroud, settling on the body parts, breath gone, life gone and hope gone in the stains in the dust.
But hope must continue and life must begin again so, in time, we married, she and I. In the late spring our two girls were born and soon another two lives were growing inside her, our two strong boys. They are all our dearly beloved children, of course, but the older boy is named for his uncle, my brother, my wife’s fiancé, who was killed in the desert.
Now all four have grown and walk and talk and hold onto my hands and cry when I tell them they are going away with their mother. And now they have gone to live in the country with their mother, where it is safe, where their grandparents can care for them.
And now, and now, I have come here to the city, with my brother’s death in my heart, I have left my home and my family and my black-haired boys and girls, I have come here to the city, I have come here to bring death to the families of those who killed my brother, my wife’s fiancé, who was killed in the desert.
When Death came to the queue for the new new phone
When Death came to the queue for the new new phone, he was kind and gentle, and explained,one by one, that they wouldn’t be needing a phone any more, that they could leave the old one there, on the pavement, for someone else to take. They wouldn’t need apps or maps any more, no need to connect or wait for connection any more. Now they would be comfortable alone, still dreaming of together. Until the dreaming stopped. So kind, so gentle.
simonsalento 