Unresolved

The past popped out like a giant monster, pulling her hair and covering her eyes with its dozen tentacles. She couldn't see the present. She couldn't see the future. Just the past's slimy skin pressing against her eyelids. Its breath stunk of regret as it whispered the names of people she hadn't seen in years. "Get off me!" she screamed, thrashing back and forth, attempting to throw the past off her back. "But I'm unresolved. You can't move forward!" it said. She dug her fingernails into the past's clouded eyes and it let out a whimper. It tumbled down and fell to the ground, whispering, "Remember, remember, remember when..." She flung her closet door open and tossed the past inside, saying, "You'll always be unresolved, you're the past!" She slammed the door and walked away, glancing back once or twice.

Backlines

Living on the Outside of Your Skin

crumpled underneath stars
lost in the monstrous desert
we never knew this would stop
believed we could live forever

The Room

The room was trembling as she walked in. Tears rolled down the chartreuse wallpaper, landing on the floor with a great splash. She jumped across the large puddles, not wanting to ruin her penny loafers. The ceiling fan hung crookedly from the ceiling, making a sound similar to sobbing as it spun slowly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the room.

“Everyone left,” it replied.

“I’m here.”

“But I don’t know you.”

She grabbed a dirty towel off the floor and wiped the wet walls in small, circular motions. “Shh, it’s OK,” she said, pressing her cheek against the wall. “I’ll never leave you.”

“I don’t believe you, but what else is there?” it said.

The trembling ceased and the fan stopped spinning. The tears continued to run, but eventually they might stop.

Home

I love our little home. Renewed the lease yesterday and it feels comforting; I wasn't ready to let go. I'll know when it's time. There are still things to accomplish here.

Hooting and Howling

Thomas Brimm Meets the Dead

The dissolving bath bubbles resembled faces. The faces of the dead, the boy thought. But who were they and what did they want with him? He was only eight, after all. He poked one of the faces right on the nose, and it disintegrated. There was a faint howl of pain. The boy stuck his ear in the water and jumped up almost immediately after, hearing small voices whispering "help." He pounded his fists into the water, into the face of each dead person. Water splashed everywhere, hitting the walls, the tiled floor, and even the ceiling. "I can't help you!" he screamed.