Sprouts

My sunflower seeds started talking to me last month. I couldn’t believe it; I’d been lonely for such a long time. It felt good to have friends. I bet it was my mom who asked them to keep me company. I miss her terribly.

The clearest memory I have of Mom was when she told me that all the beauty in the world grows from something small. I was helping her in the garden, and we’d just planted sunflowers. My favorite. A couple days later, she showed me the tiny, burgeoning sprouts that would eventually become the towering, yellow flowers I loved so much. She repeated what she told me about beauty. I remember being amazed. I’d wake up every morning and head outside and check their progress. Each time, they were a little bit bigger. Continue reading “Sprouts”

Under My Teeth

Something’s living under my teeth. Whenever I chew, it screams. I had to stop eating. Now I blend everything up and drink it so I don’t have to hear the sound anymore. Brushing my teeth is out. More screaming; bloodcurdling shrieks stopping only when I don’t apply pressure. Even when I sleep, if my mouth closes and my teeth click together, my ears are pierced with the sounds of agony. Continue reading “Under My Teeth”

Tiptoeing the Line of Consent

“No,” I insisted. “Absolutely and unequivocally. No.”

I studied his face. It looked like he was prepared to accept what I was saying, but somewhere in his eyes I saw what I’d been hoping for. Something I barely wanted to admit, but nonetheless what I wanted most of all: he understood that behind my protestations was a plea to be convinced.

He opened his mouth and I studied his tongue. It was pink and firm and marked with tastebuds. The sheen of saliva on the muscle was both inviting and repelling; I loved how it felt inside me. I enjoyed the sensations it produced. But it left things behind. When he pulled away, I would feel the air on the wetness it deposited. It was cold. Discomforting.

I met his mouth with mine and let his tongue slip between my lips. It brushed against my own and I tasted his saliva. His mouth was still salty and slightly bitter from our earlier acts together. Not altogether unpleasant, but still noteworthy. I assumed mine tasted similar. Continue reading “Tiptoeing the Line of Consent”

Last Weekend

We weren’t allowed to leave our home; the suited men were everywhere and kept insisting it was for our own safety. They wouldn’t give us a hint about what was going on.

Being right across the street, I stayed glued to my front window. It was fascinating at first. Then interesting. Then tedious. Still, I felt like I had to keep watching. There was something going on in there and I needed to know what. Nothing on television gave any indication something was wrong. Our cell phones had no service. It was as if the signals were being blocked.

Toward the end of the first day, I’d started to feel a surprising amount of apprehension. My wife, too. It felt as if we were about to receive terrible news, despite not having any reason to. Continue reading “Last Weekend”

Adrenochrome

blood

(A horror story about drugs.)

Please help.

Someone close to me may be connected to the disappearance and murder of countless children; most of them refugees or otherwise disadvantaged – all untraceable. All forgettable. And now, all dead.

He told me about a drug called adrenochrome that could produce a high beyond any other. And unlike those other drugs, there are no ill effects. Quite the contrary; there are substantial benefits from consuming it: greater health, increased vivacity, and a host of other, smaller effects. Combine those with an intense sense of euphoria and you have a substantial demand.

The issue is this: it is a derivative of the chemicals produced by the human body when it is under intense, immeasurable fear.

My former friend, who confessed his involvement during a fleeting crisis of conscience, insisted this was true and cited a number of dubious-looking studies and fake news sites. But then there were the photos. Continue reading “Adrenochrome”

The Little Ghost

When the little ghost first starting coming to me, he whispered nice things that made me feel good.

“You have pretty hands.”

“I love how you do your nails.”

“How did you get your skin to be so smooth?”

He stayed with me all day and all night. As the days went by, though, I must have done something to make the ghost angry. Instead of mawkish pleasantries, the messages grew negative.

“I’ve seen other girls with prettier hands.”

“What happened to your nails?”

“I’m sorry your skin looks so dry nowadays.”

I started to get upset. I’d grown fond of the little ghost. Since he’d always been so positive, it was comforting. But once he started to get mean, I wondered what I’d done wrong. I didn’t want my ghost to feel like I’d disappointed him. Continue reading “The Little Ghost”

My Constellation

December 10, 2015.
My last day on Earth.

From the moment I was capable of proper self-reflection, I knew there was too much of me. I filled more space than any person should. I would study the area around myself and imagine lines drawn between my body and the objects nearby. The lines were too short. Stout, vulgar lines barely spanning the interstices I used to prove I wasn’t sharing mass with the walls and furniture.

A plan bloomed within me and seeded the foundation of my identity. As I was shuffled from foster home to foster home, I began to restrict the amount of food I consumed. The general lack of care for my wellbeing, which I’m certain would have devastated the psyche of other adolescents, was my greatest advantage. With each refused meal, the lines separating me from the mass of the world grew longer. I bathed in the reinforcing glow of success. Continue reading “My Constellation”

Escaphism

“Under every scrap of confining skin is the potential for escape. When life grows from your husk, you, in turn, may be reborn.” -William James Lemaire: Seeding the Verdant World

It had been so, so long since my soulmate had felt anything resembling escape.

We sat and talked about the process that would surely end his life. Our Benefactor, William, had proposed this journey to us at our final meeting. William, who’d given so much of his time and energy to the wretched around him, was generous in imparting his wisdom. He believed my soulmate could be saved – but only if he gave his life to the Verdant World. I remember looking at the swaying trees and long grass around us – trees and grass seeded by the numberless Saved. It was a defining moment.

“Grow what we love in whom you love.” -William James Lemaire: Seeding the Verdant World

I kissed the lips of my soulmate before removing them. He didn’t move. Tears sprouted from the corners of his closed eyes. The sweet taste of his kiss lingered as I poured honey in and around his new mouth. The honey was from bees which had pollinated the flowers grown from other Saved. The cycle was continuing with us. We whirl the wheel. Continue reading “Escaphism”

To Travel

Bodies in bodies.

Bodies of bodies.

True knowledge requires self destruction. I’d always preached it, but I’d never practiced it. Never, until this morning, when the red wire slipped into the black module and I moved while going nowhere. My consciousness – my essence – erupted from my body and left me standing in that busy room of machines and batteries and magic.

(Magic is nothing without machines and batteries.)

I left my body without looking back. The air was smoky and shimmering. The walls were porous. No sound met my earless nothingness. There was only sight. My third eye; my soul; my angel: my guide. My everything.

I traversed the room and slipped through the wall. Continue reading “To Travel”

Endless Chirping

It’s almost impossible to sleep when there’s a cricket in your room. I know. I’ve tried. The constant chirping as the bug seeks out some nonexistent mate is enough to drive you crazy. And I’ll admit: for a time, I may have lapsed into a mental state that wasn’t the healthiest for me. It would happen to anyone under those conditions.

I went a good two weeks without sleeping more than 10 minutes a night. The sound was constant and inescapable. I did some searches online and was told I could buy a lizard who’d eat the thing and end my torment. I let three of them loose before I went to work and never saw them again. The chirping continued unabated. Continue reading “Endless Chirping”

I’m still traumatized by what happened when I answered that Craigslist ad, part 3

Hello, readers! My name is Rudolph Baylor. I am composing and submitting this narrative of the other night’s events from my, and our, friend’s account for reasons I will momentarily reveal. For the sake of full disclosure, I must admit I am the man with whom he has been working. For those unfamiliar with our time together, please see the mildly-stylized narratives here and here.

Now that we are on the same page, I will provide a bit of personal backstory heretofore unknown to you all.

As I mentioned above, I am Rudolph Baylor. I’m 52 years old. In what now seems like a past life, I was a day-trader who made quite a bit of money in the forex markets during the early growing-pains of the Euro adoption. I’m by no means a King Midas, but I’ll just say I’ve been quite fortunate.

One of the problems with making enough money in a few years to last one’s lifetime is trying to fill the following years with purpose. I ended up doing what many, many people have done when searching for purpose: I trawled the Internet. Most of this trawling was to kill time. I make no effort to hide that fact. As a man uninterested in the hedonia that drives others to seek social and sexual interactions, I sought intellectual stimulation on the World Wide Web. Continue reading “I’m still traumatized by what happened when I answered that Craigslist ad, part 3”

Far Too Much Blood

I’m an administrator at a major hospital in the New York City area. I’m not supposed to talk about this, but it’s so disconcerting that I believe more people need to know about it. There’s been an unexpected and inexplicable rise in the stockpile of blood. It’s not only at our hospital, but in hospitals and blood banks all over the world.

No one knows where it’s coming from and no one can seem to explain how it gets there. All the routine tests say it’s perfectly good and free from any pathogens and impurities. But the fact remains: no one knows what’s going on.

You have to realize – hospitals and blood banks everywhere have always been low on blood. It’s why there are blood drives and calls for donations and all that. The last few weeks, though, there’s been so much that our hospital needed dispose of some because it expired before we had a chance to use it. As weird as this sounds, it gets worse.

This is the part I’m worried will come back and bite me in the a*s if any of the other administrators discover who I am. I signed a NDA explicitly stating I wouldn’t talk about this. Still, I can’t keep this quiet. When we dispose of blood, we do it in the incinerator with all the other medical waste. The fire burns so hot, pretty much everything evaporates and all that’s left is inert ash. But this blood didn’t evaporate. It did something way different.

A hospital maintenance worker was on the roof doing some unrelated work when smoke from the incinerator began exiting through the chimney. It looked normal for a while, but then the smoke tapered off and flies started pouring out. He told us they flew straight up for nearly two full minutes and hung above the roof like a cloud. After another minute, they fell like rain and burst open, covering the roof and the maintenance worker with the same blood we’d tried to incinerate. We tried to incinerate more blood, this time with hospital administrators waiting on the roof. Same result.

Our administrators have spoken with the heads of other hospitals around the country. They’ve experienced similar issues. The blood banks are bursting with overstock and people everywhere are being given this blood that just appeared out of nowhere.

The last thing I’m going to mention is the patient we re-admitted last night. He’d been discharged a month ago following an operation which required multiple transfusions. Those transfusions were done with the mystery blood before anyone noticed its existence. His re-admission was due to a fire at his home. He came into the ER with 60% of his body covered in 3rd degree burns. While he was being worked on, flies erupted from underneath the burned flesh and dropped to the floor, exploding into thick droplets of blood.

The patient died soon after. The doctors and nurses were frightened and confused, but they don’t know the whole story. But I guess they will soon. Please help me tell more people about what’s going on. The blood just doesn’t stop coming.

More.