I'm coming home soon but they don't know that... back to reclaim what's rightfully mine. My bed and my woman, and my old life. but all of my old demons are still there, and I can feel them whenever I think of my brother and Sarah, and how things might not be so easy to put back to normal. That would make me so terribly angry, but hopefully it won't happen. hopefully this tragic fairy-tale will still have a happy ending and I know that they'll all be terribly surprised to see me... after all, it has been six months since I committed suicide...




In The Water:

He was still in the chair in the corner, arms thrown round to his head like a cocoon, his legs drawn up on either side of his body. He looked frozen, and I wasn't totally sure he was breathing. Surely he hadn't frozen to death? The room did stink... of rot and decay, but I'd put that down to it being so old and damp and unlived in. I wandered over slowly, noticing the ever-present glass beside his chair. It was empty of course. I wondered how much more of the water he'd drank before finally falling asleep. What I saw when his head snapped up and his eyes fastened upon me scared the shit out of me. His skin was yellow, almost luminous in the gloomy dark of the room - the skin stretched tight over his bones. His eyes looked pale and distant, his hair thin and lank. Whatever had caused it the fact was that Gary was ill.



Inner Demons:
They walked long and desolate streets among houses made of bone, behind whose windows burned endless fires. A huge moon hung low in the sky, blood red and so enormous that only a quarter of it was visible to them, its craters forming faces that screamed silently into the cold, limitless void of space. They passed a house where dead bodies were being flung from one of the upper-floor windows to land on a pile that reached nearly as high. Rogers glanced towards them, and was inexplicably saddened to see all the corpses had featureless expanses of flesh where their faces should have been. At his side, Depression sighed mournfully. Something stalked along the street, like a robed figure but with legs taller than trees. As it strode past, it reached into a bulging sack which it carried, and scattered human hearts down onto the pavement like seed. They melted into the concrete, and things began to grow from them; but Depression tugged at his hand to hurry him along. ‘Don't look back.’ It growled.


Next page...

biography | news | art | writingcontactlinks

Copyright © 2009 J. M. Freeman.

All rights reserved.