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Becoming

27Sep2018
He appeared in the mirror over my shoulder as I brushed my teeth.  An eyeless face, glistening fishbelly white; a flat, tiny nose and thin, bloodless lips; long, thin, greasy black hair.  I felt that my reflected gaze was met, somehow.  Certainly, my attention was fixed, immobile.  I could no more move or complete my dental hygiene routine than I could fly. 
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, 1208

A Box Full Of Fog

13Jun2018
There was always fog.  Morning, noon, and night.  Thick and cloying; it muted sounds, made of speech a buzz, coated the tongue, and reduced all colors to shades of grey.  Summer, winter, no season seemed to exist under the fog. He thought he recalled a time, perhaps when he was still a very young child, when the sun had shone freely on the city.  It was now little more than a vague, bright disc that did nothing to brighten the fog or to dry the droplets that condensed on his beard. The fog even made its way indoors. It was inescapable, and had been for years.  He was used to it now, and he assumed that everyone else was, too.
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the Great Work

10Oct2017

The effluvium of piscine decay was the last scent I expected to encounter as I sat in my favorite coffee shop some five blocks off Salem’s antique waterfront. Initially, it presented as little more than a tickle at the back of my throat – a whiff of something I couldn’t quite identify, but which upset me nonetheless. I became distracted from my crossword without even realizing I’d lost my concentration. But the odor built in both intensity and pungency, until it reached a point at which I could identify it for what it was. It was then that I looked up and saw the thing in the doorway.

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