Mortimer's profile

I dread every footfall. Three blocks, nothing but that damn squeak, couldn’t even hear the cars any more. This sidewalk, with its diabolical concrete - new sneakers seem to have a chemical reaction the moment they touch this very sidewalk. I think I have a psychopathy. Note to self: remove ear drums with machete. Or tape washcloths to my shoes. My shoulder complains now too. It must sense the approaching relief, but like a screaming brat in a car, it’s not good enough, oh no. You should not h...

He awoke and knew only cold. The metal he laid upon was icy, piercing his clothes. The air he inhaled was frigid, barely above freezing. But there was also a cold, empty feeling inside him, not a physical feeling but nothingness in his mind. He concentrated, trying to pull something, anything from his head. Like a spark in a dark room something eventually came: Julian. I am Julian, he repeated over and over again, nursing the memory and trying to kindle it into a fire of recollection. Julian...

Sleepless I grumble At noise and light With pillow squeezed to block intakes Though cannot hide dismal mistakes And the drums that thwart my rest Violently I lash out And rise from plush sepulcher Seizing serene clocks with distaste To demolish them with vengeful haste But the drums still mock and jest Advancing frustration clenches With fervent disregard And the mournful peace My scrambles ceased My calm, the drums repressed Panicked I wail Smashing all that might tick To end the cruel noise...

They were all dead. In a single instant all of them perished. They didn’t suffer, except perhaps the pain of their own sins before it happened, but their death was quick. Meaningless and destructive and horrifying, yes, but at least it was quick. Someone with a conscience, some poor bastard who feels grief over all lost life and sees those that are brutally killed as martyrs would take solace in the fact that the troubles of the universe would no longer plague them. A realist might think it ...