A Portait of the Artist in his Prime

He overflowed with nervous energy.

He couldn’t keep his hands still.  He tried to control their motion by washing dishes, darning socks; he ran his hands through his hair, or stroked one of the thirty cats that roamed his abode.  But he couldn’t focus and so nothing was ever finished.

His legs jiggled when he sat; when he stood he danced an unending jig.  The motion interfered with his every task, and he wore a perpetually put-upon air as if mildly disgusted with himself.  He only slept when completely exhausted by uninterrupted days of restless wakefulness.

Expressions of Existence #72: Once Upon a Time

There was a time

When I was only comfortable while running

My mind beaten into submission

     By the piston thrust of my legs

     By my feet slapping the earth

     By my lungs burning and straining

          To deliver oxygen to my muscles

     By the moisture wringing from every pore

          From every breath

Tuesday (pt. 2)

Part Two of the continuing Saga of Mr. Reginald Tuesday, hitman.

 

Now, one of the greatest difficulties of the profession is advertising.

No one can hire a hitman if they don’t know where to find him.  But, if there’s one thing a hitman can’t afford, it’s to be found by just anyone.  Over the years, many solutions have been proposed for this particular problem.  Clubs, job fairs, personals ads and dead-drop mailboxes.  The advent of the internet eased things considerably, but brought its own set of security risks.

Tuesday (pt. 1)

There are those stories which beg to be told.  Others absolutely demand it.  A very few simply cannot go untold.  

This is not one of those.  

It is not even one of those stories which simply finds itself told, for no better reason than that it exists.  No, this story is one which must be dragged, kicking and screaming and biting and pissing all over your trouser legs, out of the darkness and forced into the light of day, leaving everyone involved – reader and writer and story itself – feeling dirty and violated.

It is not a good story.

It will not be well written.  Absolutely refuses, in fact.

But here it is, all the same.

 

You have been warned.