It’s always been in me.
This blackness,
this lust for the taste of the blood of innocents,
of those with whom I fall in love
And I fall so easily.
It takes naught but the glimpse of a fair lip bitten,
‘tween teeth so small and delicate,
or the scent of a drop of milk without a tongue to lick it,
or the hitch of breath; a sob of grief and what am I to do?
I am not made of stone.
I give and I give and I give and then I take…
And then I am again left alone,
to dine upon my hopeless sorrow.

Why oh why can I not just stop
this endless circle of pain and love and misery?

Mr. Strange

Mr. Strange was the normalest person he himself knew. He shaved every morning and put on his suit and went to work as an accountant in a perfectly normal firm downtown. He drove a Lexus and he lived in a three bedroom bungalow by himself with his dog and his cat and his three fish. The bodies buried in the basement didn’t count as other people. They were corpses.


Miss Harper enjoyed the company of Mr. Strange very much. She was a secretary at the firm in which he worked. She lived downtown a few blocks from the company in an apartment on the fifth floor. She didn’t drive, but she had admired Mr. Strange’s Lexus and even said so once. She was hoping he would invite her out to dinner.


Mr. Tarvell was Mr. Strange’s boss. He always thought there was something odd about Mr. Strange, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He knew his secretary, Miss Harper, had a “thing” for Mr. Strange and he wanted to say something but he didn’t quite know how.


Mr. Strange’s dog wouldn’t stop trying to get into the basement. He thought about giving the dog to Miss Harper, the secretary at work. She seemed lonely. Perhaps he would invite her over.


Miss Harper’s first visit to Mr. Strange’s house was an event that surpassed every event that she had ever had in her life. On the outside, Mr. Strange was a kind man. Gentle, it seemed. In fact he was the normalest man she had ever had the pleasure of working with. However, they had barely started into dessert when he swooped everything off the table, the table cloth included, and crawled over to her and kissed her passionately. They never made it to the bedroom. He made love to her under the dining room table, her head banging on one of the chair legs each time he thrust into her. She took a taxi home. She couldn’t wait to see him again.


Mr. Tarvell noticed a strange smell on Miss Harper’s clothes the next day. It seemed, somehow, that she had gotten moldy. Like she had spent the night in the refrigerator, cuddled up to a basket of rotting strawberries. He didn’t want to say anything lest it seem rude.


Mr. Strange was the normalest person he himself knew. That he would soon require a bigger basement meant that he would also probably need a new job. A better paying job. A job in a town where no one knew  him. Leaving his present house to the dog seemed the wisest choice he had made in quite some time.


This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. It’s only late if you insist on changing the clocks at 2am…


#SoCS – How Now?

Manipulating me and yet you seem to sit centered
With your magnifying glass like a student of ant life
My mind for ways to tease and torture while I’m
Your sunbeam prism ray
For the best way to leave me
Or trying my best to because you bring out the
Bitch in me with your

Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you by me, here: Check it out!


SoCS – Root

“Dig,” she thought as she shoved the spade into the ground again.

“Dig, dig, dig, dug. Doug. It’s Doug I should be digging for. To hell with this root.”

But the root had been the bane of her existence since she moved into the house. Because it was more than a root. It was a stump. The stump of a tree that had been cut down maybe a century ago. God knew what was below it – maybe there was a cemetery down there, like in Poltergeist.

Chunk, went the spade. Chunk, chunk ching!! She hit something. Getting down onto her hands and knees she dug with her fingers until she uncovered something silver. Something shiny. A treasure! Could it be that all this work had made her rich?

With renewed determination she stood and wielded the shovel once again. The silver box was small – it didn’t take much to dig around it. But it was deep, like a tiny coffin that had been buried lengthways. By the time she reached the bottom of it, Doug had come home.

“Hey asshole,” she called to him. “Can you come and help me with this?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he muttered as he marched from the car to the house. He slammed the door behind him.

“Just a little wider,” she mumbled to herself. “And he’ll fit right in.”


Two weeks later…

The house had been deathly quiet for so long that it seemed as though noise had given up on her. Doug had woken up while she was still filling in the hole, but she took care of that with the spade. The silver box was the final nail in his makeshift coffin – or lack thereof. It was the deciding factor. Not only did she have the means to cover up what she’d done thanks to her discovery, she wouldn’t have to share whatever was in the box with him. Or anyone else.

It took three days to pry the lid off the box and then another day to figure out what was in it. A pair of glowing orbs, like cat’s eyes lay in the bottom, which was five feet from the top. Tipping it hadn’t worked, nor had turning it upside down. Now the object sat on the table in front of her. It had climbed out on its own it seemed, after she went to bed.

The object – what could she call it? A cat-box? – refused to move from the table. It smelled like toast in the morning, a chicken sandwich at lunchtime, and a steak at dinner. But every time she made something to eat, her food would disappear. Into thin air. The only thing it didn’t touch was her coffee and her booze.

She couldn’t leave the house; she was slowly starving to death. Except.

Every day for the past seven days there had been a note on the table when she woke up in the morning. The note read: if you’re hungry, dig up Doug.


This creepy tale is brought to you by SoCS. Click here and join in! Anyone can do it!


SoCS – The Light in His Eyes

It wasn’t that Melissa didn’t like Teddy. It was the light in his eyes when he looked at her that she couldn’t abide. Half the time it made her feel as though she might be stuck with a man who followed her around like a pesky dog for the rest of her breathing days, and the other half of the time his glint-gaze gave her the creeps. She was afraid if she gave in and decided to sleep with him (finally) she might never wake up.

The one time she tried to end it it had been raining. She stood at the precipice of a puddle and he stood in it. She couldn’t help but wonder if his shoes were filled with water. How could she break up with a man with wet feet? Melissa may have been many things, but heartless wasn’t one of them.

So she decided to write him a poem. To let him down from a distance, where she wouldn’t know if he was standing in a puddle like a pathetic, gallant clown. Her first attempt was a limerick:

There once was a girl we won’t mention
Who was getting far too much attention
She was getting the creeps
When he said, ‘it’s for keeps’

But Melissa couldn’t come up with another word that rhymed with ‘attention,’ so she tried another:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’m breaking up with you.

It seemed far too abrupt. And if she was going to be abrupt, why not just text him with the news? She tried:

Dear Teddy. I can’t see you any more. Your eyes are weird. Love, Melissa.

but she didn’t want to lead him on with the words ‘dear’ and ‘love.’

So in the end she simply approached him with a bucket of cold water, threw it at him and told him to figure it out for himself.

Melissa’s only regret is that she might have put his light out for good. Someone else should definitely have had the benefit of that light. Someone more deserving.

This post is part of SoCS:


365. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Monday, August 31st, 10:00am
Milo (and Mortimer)


Milo sits at the window. Mortimer takes the seat beside him.

Mortimer: How’s the afterlife treating you?

Milo: You can see me?

Mortimer: I can. Because I’m dead like you. We only get to come out a few times a year – this is one of them.

Milo: What’s so special about today?

Mortimer: Bus is in to have the upholstery cleaned.

Milo: About time too. This seat is all sticky.

Mortimer: (laughs) That’ll be our friend Jake Drommen. He didn’t last long.

Milo: Yeah, I’ve seen him. Do you think he’ll go straight?

Mortimer: Eventually. Sooner rather than later I think.

Milo: Got all kinds of people on this bus.

Mortimer: Oh yeah. Gals who work in dungeons, pick-up artists, cheaters, gossips, philosophers, cantankerous old people, cartoon characters… even a few vampires for good measure.

Milo: You forgot the cannibal.

Mortimer: Oh yes. I think that’s how The Darkness got the way he is – cannibalism.

Milo: Someone should tell Andrea.

Mortimer: She’ll figure it out for herself. The figuring will give her something to keep her busy while she gets over Edward.

Milo: True enough.

Mortimer: Not a bad place to spend an eternity. Keeps me entertained at least.

Milo: Is there any getting off this thing?

Mortimer: Not that I’ve found.

Milo: Have you ever tried pulling the cord to get the bus to stop?

Mortimer: Nope, haven’t tried that. But be my guest.

Milo: I think I’ll do that. (thinks about it for a moment) After I find out what happens next.


Bus out of service.

Author’s note: These Scenes are written independently, occasionally featuring the same character from a former scene. Please click on the names in the tags to follow a character’s story. (Milo) (Mortimer)

364. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Sunday, August 30th, 5:00pm
Drommen (and Sheila)


Drommen sits at the window. Sheila takes the seat beside him.

Sheila: Hi.

Drommen: (smiles) Hi.

Sheila: You’re looking like you’re pretty pleased with yourself.

Drommen: I am. I’ve decided to give up a part of my life that was no good for me. Let it go. Now I’m much happier.

Sheila: Well good for you!

Drommen: Thank you.

Sheila: It’s important for people to set limits for themselves.

Drommen: It is.

Sheila: And to follow their dreams.

Drommen: Indeed.

Sheila: Hey, can I ask you a question?

Drommen: Go right ahead.

Sheila: Do you mind if I masturbate?


Next stop: Monday, August 31st, 10:00am

Author’s note: These Scenes are written independently, occasionally featuring the same character from a former scene. Please click on the names in the tags to follow a character’s story. (Drommen)

363. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Saturday, August 29th, 10:00pm
Bella (and Alice) (and Lily)


Bella sits at the window. Alice takes the seat beside her.

Alice: Hey.

Bella: Hey. So what did you find out?

Alice: Turns out they transferred Edward out of prison and into some sort of mental facility. He ran away from there while security had their backs turned.

Bella: I knew he didn’t turn to smoke! What a liar.

Alice: But there’s that thing with the house. I still can’t explain that.

Lily: (pops up from behind the seat, making Bella and Alice jump) I can.

Bella: (to Alice) You’d think we’d get used to that.

Alice: (to Lily) We don’t want your explanation.

Lily: Oh but you should. You see Edward was never really a vampire.

Bella: Well duh!

Lily: But I am. And I can do all sorts of things.

Alice: Can you disappear?

Lily: I can. In fact I’m going to. I’m going to join Edward in Transylvania and give him what he’s always wanted.

Bella: A life?

Lily: Eternal life. And then I’m sure he’ll be back for you. (breathing into the back of Bella’s neck) I wouldn’t stop looking over your shoulder, Bella.

Lily disappears in a puff of air.

Alice: Wait! Where’d she go this time.

Bella: (gets up and stands in the aisle facing the seat behind them) Mosquito! (slaps the seat and kills the mosquito sitting there) Sucker!

Alice: One down! (high fives Bella)


Next stop: Sunday, August 30th, 5:00pm

Author’s note: These Scenes are written independently, occasionally featuring the same character from a former scene. Please click on the names in the tags to follow a character’s story. (Bella) (Alice) (Lily)

362. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Friday, August 28th, 9:00pm
Alfred and Hester


Hester: I’m glad you’ve finally got your Viagra. What are you going to do when we get home?

Alfred: Obviously anything to get out of ironing my own shirts.


Next stop: Saturday, August 29th, 10:00pm

Author’s note: These Scenes are written independently, occasionally featuring the same character from a former scene. Please click on the names in the tags to follow a character’s story. (Alfred and Hester)

361. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Thursday, August 27th, 7:00pm
Andrea and Lacey


Andrea sits at the window. Lacey takes the seat beside her.

Andrea: Hey there!

Lacey: What’s new?

Andrea: I got a new job! At a dungeon. I’m going to take all my wildest fantasies out on a bunch of strangers.

Lacey: Take?

Andrea: Well you know. Anger issues and all that. But things have never been better with the love life. Darkie doesn’t talk much and you know how I love to hold a conversation, but it doesn’t seem all that bad. He’s a good listener.

Lacey: Uh huh. Well congrat…

Andrea: And you know Eddie’s left town. Good riddance. I was so over him anyways. So now it’s just me and my Darkness.

Lacey: I’m happy for you.

Andrea: So what’s going on with you?

Lacey: Oh you know. I…

Andrea: I so do. Isn’t life great? Just, like, really great?

Lacey: Uh huh.


Next stop: Friday, August 28th, 9:00pm

Author’s note: These Scenes are written independently, occasionally featuring the same character from a former scene. Please click on the names in the tags to follow a character’s story. (Andrea) (Lacey)