A Visitor in September
It was the eyes that bugged me the most. Scribbled black ovals that looked as if a child had filled them in. When they first appeared on the figures face I couldn’t help but get close to the glass and stare into them. Every day the lines that filled those ovals would change.
Jim Jupitor is a Bald Man
Outside a wren flew above the large window resting on its ledge with a twig in it’s mouth. No cries echoed out from the gray building, no sound of the hammer as it connected repeatedly against bone. The wren was entirely undisturbed.
Golden Petals
I have been driving ever since. Every night a new hotel after several hours on the road. I do not sleep, yet every morning when I open my hotel door I find a golden rose painted upon it. I cannot run any longer. Whatever is stalking me from that awful night I cannot shake. Instead today I have booked myself in a nice AirBnB on the outskirts of a small town. In the morning I expect a golden rose to be on the door, and I also suspect that I will be dead.
I Wished for a Bottle of Wine
The path seemed to open up for me with every step
and as I moved forward I could tell that it was
in fact another room in front of me. I was
starting to be able to make out
a wall of the grey brick.
And Candles burning.
Lots of candles
aligning
the floors.
I was stu
ck