Cold Cemetery Nights (microfiction)

Out here in the cold cemetery nights, the greenish-blue tint of my death fantasies come alive. I’m not much a fan of the waking hours; the dead are more on my level, the way they hold nothing back when they speak to me and tell me of their underground dreams and experiences. I think it was my father who said, when I was just a young boy, that, “The dead hold secrets the living can learn from, if only we listen to the whispers of the night.”

Cold cemetery nights, not such a fright to me. Others have rebuked me for my twilight walks, stalking among the graves, but I ignore them. The gravedigger works overtime every night; I’m not sure if he’s dead or alive. I see him digging these deep holes most nights, allowing the souls to re-enter the world. The gravedigger’s name is Cain – he has the brightest blue eyes, a slim yet muscular frame, and hands so calloused they bleed every night.

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Broken Angels (a poem)

Each new year is a gateway
Transformation takes place
Among broken angels lying face down
In gutters and cracked sidewalks

Misty rain falls in city mornings
The angels sing, sigh sweetly
Not entering this gateway neatly
I am overcome, completely
With an urge for annihilation

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Pictures in Storybooks (a poem)

The certainty of seeing your face
When I arrived in the hidden place
Was gone forever in a split-second
Head down on the table like
You were sleeping, an eternal rest
Great sadness in the center of my chest

Those days are gone now
Pictures in storybooks
Cemented in my mind’s eye
No need to cry any longer
Your spirit is forever with me

(Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels)

Vibrant-Colored Ashes (a poem)

Watch time move in a circle
Our concept is broken
Caught in linear perceptions
We believe death is deception

But when the lightning flashes
Our mere mortality crashes
Into storm clouds and burns
Into vibrant-colored ashes

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Dead Lover in the Machine (flash fiction)

Happy Halloween! Here’s a piece of darkly humorous flash fiction about an Amazon Echo and a widowed husband who has trouble moving on. It’s about 820 words and has an estimated reading time of 3 and a half minutes. Though it’s not technically a ghost story, I thought it had some elements making it good light fun for Halloween. Let me know what you think!

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The Unraveling (a haibun)

Just another day in the nightmare landscape, the rugged rocky hills, and the prophet by my side. We climbed day and night, meeting with the sages and thieves in their torn rags, who gave us water to drink and food for our souls.

We are on a spiritual journey to discover who killed the Master of the Universe. It was the defining crime of our era, and perhaps all of humanity. When the bullet exploded through his head, spraying the cabin room with blood, brain, and sinew, the gaping chasm in the center of the Universe killed half the population.

The prophet looks up
The sky turns blood red and hot
We run to the cave

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Burn it Down (a poem)

I want to burn it all down
I’m not proud of it
But I must admit
I’m drawn to the destruction
Like a moth to a flame

The death-instinct deep inside
Driving down the highway
Passing the car crash
And turning my head
To see if anyone’s dead

It’s deplorable – this overwhelming urge
And I notice how it surges
And it’s like a scourge
The self-sabotage and the purge
That puts us on the verge
Of tearing everything down

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Angel of Death by my Bedside (a poem)

The angel of death sits by my bedside
I stare into the vacuum of her eyes
I know for sure I’m being exiled
And she’s waiting for my demise

She comes to visit once a month
Brings me a bouquet of dead flowers
She always looks so stunned
That I’m awake at such late hours

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God Laughed (a poem)

Under my window, a clean rasping sound
The child is dying, and there’s nothing
I can do, except scream like the child

Is the child me? I wonder
Am I dying? Maybe so
The cabin room is hot
The planet is an oven

All our worst fears always
Come true, it’s true
My father taught me this
A day before he died
At his kitchen table

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