The Flesh Vessel

An involuntary cry escaped the crusted mouth of the Flesh Vessel as the Monsters tremble in their savory dark pleasures. The empty husk of a human does not hinder their advances. One by one, they creep, slithering inside the padded room, alone, afraid, and ashamed of their repellent fantasies. They confide their detestable nature into the Flesh Vessel, for it judges not as they relish the debauchery shrouded from the eyes of Gods and Men. The Old Master, chained, abused, and driven beyond the edge of mental confines, craves the release of death that shall never come. At the deepest, … Continue reading The Flesh Vessel

Never Take Advice from the Toilet Stall Graffiti

“God, why does this shit happen to me?” Ian drunkenly shouted with his head in the toilet. With a mighty heave, the contents of his stomach splashed into the unsavory hodgepodge of waste that only a broken toilet at a hole-in-the-wall bar could amass. Ian rose from the porcelain prayer position and as he left the stall, his eyes went to the graffiti on the bathroom door: “Don’t worry. There are plenty of fish in the sea” It was like magic. He suddenly didn’t care about Stacy leaving him anymore. He felt better, way better, in fact. It wouldn’t last. … Continue reading Never Take Advice from the Toilet Stall Graffiti

Mr. Black and The Resurrectionist

The BMW pulls through the gate and parks next to my car. A man steps out of the vehicle and walks towards me with a blank expression on his face. “Mr. Black, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I greeted. I extended my hand but he didn’t take it. He was distracted, looking over his shoulder. “There’s no need to worry. I came alone, unarmed, and ready to serve,” I comforted with a smile. “How can I be sure this will work? How do I know that as soon as I pay you, you won’t put a bullet in me?” … Continue reading Mr. Black and The Resurrectionist