Tales of the Mind
Mind bending and twisting stories, probably my very best stories
Charlie stood, his shoulders thrashing. He stared at me through his terrified blue eyes. Blood trickled from his eyes and nose. His hands flew up to his head, pressing against his temples...
I dreamt the other night that I met Death. Not Death in his tall tale glory, cloaked in black and wielding a shining blade. Death incarnate. My friend John, who died two months ago in a fire.
The balcony floor was covered in ash. My bare feet were buried in it, stained by dead embers. I raised my head and glanced across the earth. The ocean was on fire.
I buried that man in the desert. Took my shovel and I gave him a shallow grave. By the time any rains have come he’ll be deep under ground, buried by the sand storms.
"Hello?" "John, it's me, Mark. We need to talk." "What's wrong?" "There's been an accident..." It was 6:30 am when John hit the black.
the storm is coming. -yes. it will kill us one day. -one day. it will kill us all. -maybe, but today is not that day, and I pray it will not come soon. but I do. -then you are lost.
I am a sinner. I am a killer. I am no one. The knife tucked under my jacket presses against my skin, its cold steel sending goosebumps across my arm.
Mud rises up around the heel of my boot with every step, soaking to the frayed ties before sinking back into the prints left behind. Beneath the mud there comes the heads of the sheets.