jalubcarrey's profile

On the bay, by the side of early morning, where the sand comes together in clumps, adjacent to long forgotten fortresses, where the dead fell in heaps . . . I remember. Piercing, whistling bullets, wool uniforms, sensibility checked by recourse to violence, I remember the dead before they were so. I wish I could lay it all aside, like a forgotten tool, a useless weapon, like whisky to a teetotal man, one day their screams I’ll not remember. That I was there, aside the embankment, by ...

Poor little feller kept a screamin’ kept a wailin’ and I didn’t know who he was, ‘cept a poor little feller. Strangers kept starin’ at me here outta my home, where I ate cold food prepared by strangers, staring at a familiar face I’d seen all a’ sixty years . . . so old Here I sit in a metal chair and my toe a hurts, like it’s a missin’, like it’s gone and I don’t know why. Why’d they take it off? I’m a woman&mdash...

It started simply, like everything evil does. Whether it was stranded in my DNA, awaiting pubescence, or hoisted upon me by some chemical reaction, the cause remains hardly significant when compared to the effect it had on me. If forced to conjecture I would say that I was born with this disease. The seed of my turmoil was always there, always reaching toward the light of my consciousness. It was a lurking demon biding its time. The demons were activated by a mirror. The mirror was the trig...

Skittering across the church stones like a brown penguin on speed, Friar Mortimer fumbled in a desperate attempt to flee. With a queer lack of focus he managed to stay upright, despite his own bumbling. Inside and out he was a jumble of nerve endings, eviscerated by the Mother Superiors’ death yet knowing, as a friar, that he shouldn’t have reacted in such a disdainful manner. Leaving a sister of the cloth face down in her own blood was far from Christ-like. One could even say tha...

“What in the name of our Holy Mother of the Bleeding Heart are you doing?!” exclaimed Mother Superior.       The friar, bruised, but no sense beaten into him, replied with a mumbling, fumbling, quivering lipped response, “I was asking a question when the sister beat me!”       The Mother Superior, confounded by the behaviour of the corpulent friar, incensed at the interruption of her studies, envenomed with the will to...