"Better to forgive and forget."
These words have reverberated through Mr. Grieves' plastic
head for 10 years before he finally came to accept them. Until
his poetic sickness broke down his empty soul into a vomit of
unfinished literature and scraps of masterpieces spewed across
his one-bedroom apartment. The mirror sent him a warped
reflection of dying flesh and reddened eyes that made the nausea
burn up in the acid and liquor that was his bowels. He continued
to nibble his waxy lips and looked at the clock mounted above
his doorway. The ticking hands which never seemed to touch
only reminded him he had no life outside Seedy Funeral Home.
His life was the darkened and forgotten artistry of touching and
poking and prodding corpses until their relatives could stand to
bare their facades for a good 10 seconds of abhorrence and fear.
His life was the darkened and forgotten artistry of touching and
poking and prodding corpses until their relatives could stand to
bare their facades for a good 10 seconds of abhorrence and fear.
These words have reverberated through Mr. Grieves' plastic
head for 10 years before he finally came to accept them. Until
his poetic sickness broke down his empty soul into a vomit of
unfinished literature and scraps of masterpieces spewed across
his one-bedroom apartment. The mirror sent him a warped
reflection of dying flesh and reddened eyes that made the nausea
burn up in the acid and liquor that was his bowels. He continued
to nibble his waxy lips and looked at the clock mounted above
his doorway. The ticking hands which never seemed to touch
only reminded him he had no life outside Seedy Funeral Home.
His life was the darkened and forgotten artistry of touching and
poking and prodding corpses until their relatives could stand to
bare their facades for a good 10 seconds of abhorrence and fear.
His life was the darkened and forgotten artistry of touching and
poking and prodding corpses until their relatives could stand to
bare their facades for a good 10 seconds of abhorrence and fear.
"The truth hurts. All things die and so will you," he always
murmured through swollen lips and curtains at them as
they masked themselves with tiny droplets of bitter
regrets and fake sympathy.
He entangled his coiled fingers together and looked out the
tiny window beside him at the Moon Man with intense
apathy. Pieces of night drifted through the window and
nestled tightly to the darkest corners of his room where
the lonely creatures of the night preyed until their fragile
forms felt cradled. He wanted to do something, anything
to feel how everyone else felt. To finally be human.
To show them that he was not just some aging boy with
collectible action figures and an urge to fix anything,
abstract or concrete. His sympathy for mankind had
grown into blind hate until he became bitter and coarse,
not what he planned to be. He had once just wanted
someone to touch him and love him until he grew fat and
old with family meals and greedy grandchildren. Now he
just remained numb by her words and the words of his
contradicting conscience. Her words. Christine's...
murmured through swollen lips and curtains at them as
they masked themselves with tiny droplets of bitter
regrets and fake sympathy.
He entangled his coiled fingers together and looked out the
tiny window beside him at the Moon Man with intense
apathy. Pieces of night drifted through the window and
nestled tightly to the darkest corners of his room where
the lonely creatures of the night preyed until their fragile
forms felt cradled. He wanted to do something, anything
to feel how everyone else felt. To finally be human.
To show them that he was not just some aging boy with
collectible action figures and an urge to fix anything,
abstract or concrete. His sympathy for mankind had
grown into blind hate until he became bitter and coarse,
not what he planned to be. He had once just wanted
someone to touch him and love him until he grew fat and
old with family meals and greedy grandchildren. Now he
just remained numb by her words and the words of his
contradicting conscience. Her words. Christine's...
By Sarah Hollifield