- The long grass waves in the fields as the sun goes down, making a sound like it’s whispering. You don’t want to know what it’s saying.
- The streetlights always flicker twice – once as you pass under them, and again just after. You wonder if they flicker every time something passes underneath them, but you don’t want to turn and find out.
- He’s the perfect southern gentleman: gelled hair, soft eyes, a gentle accent that makes you almost sleepy. The first time he kisses you, when he bites your bottom lip, you could almost ignore how his teeth feel too sharp. Almost.
- The storefronts wait empty; the wind blows the doors open and shut, open and shut. Everything looks deserted, but you know it’s not. They’re lying in wait, is all.
- You pass an alleyway and there’s something waiting – something with bright eyes and an eager smile. You pass without a second look. As long as you don’t look, you’re safe.
“You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we’re doing it.”
@neil-gaiman is my favorite author, a great artist and inspiring person. Long ago he shared one of my drawings and it made my day, one of the best days of my life. It’s such a silly thing, but when someone you admire so greatly recognizes your art is the highest form of praise. Thank you Neil Gaiman, for bringing so much joy to this humble artist.
You’re watching a Youtube video. Two men are racing to strip down to tiny purple shorts. The taller man tells the camera that they are testing undressing efficiency. For science.
You switch to a different video. They’re now making out. The taller one stops to inform the camera that they’re testing lip balm flavors for science before the shorter one tugs him back down.
Another video. They’re eating cucumbers and bananas. Comparing how much they can fit in their mouths without gagging. It’s very scientific. People are laughing off-screen. The shorter man can fit an entire banana down his throat and the taller man calls him a banana genius.
Another. They’re humping each other with nothing but a large sheet of plastic wrap between them. You wonder why the plastic is even necessary at this point. The taller one cries out that testing plastic wrap durability is for science all of this is scientific we are all for science we have all become science.
I want a movie about a kid who just so happens to be born a Classic Gothic Hero, but in modern day. His name would be like Byron Dangerfield or something.
Whenever he has EMOTIONS, there are claps of thunder and lightning. Every time he leans against a piece of furniture, it turns out to open a secret passageway leading to some dark secret, until eventually he’s just like “REALLY, GUYS?” All bad dreams are prophetic, even if it’s just that Starbucks will be out of pumpkin spice syrup the next day. Every girl he talks to swoons a lot and has a tyrannical heavy-browed father who are all played by the same actor. Ravens flock around him.
There are inexplicably paintings with moving eyes and moving suits of armor everywhere he goes, even McDonalds. Every time he moves to a new apartment, there is ALWAYS a screaming woman chained up in the room above his, and she invariably sets the place on fire. He’s so over it.
the fog is so thick, you can barely make out your hand in front of your face, let alone identify the shapes and shadows around you. Grotesque shapes and forms, could be a tree or something else. You cannot know for certain.
The mountains stir and shift. A hole opens in the ground, exposing the bowels of the earth. It calls to you, but who knows how long until it snaps shut once more.
“Another Grizzly attack” they say, tucking their hats down low over their eyes. “Sixth one this week, but we haven’t caught the beast yet.” They keep looking, but you know its not a bear that their looking for.
Single lane roads twist and turn so sharply, you cannot see beyond the sharp turns, cannot see what is waiting for you from the woods.
Not even the waters of the Missoula flood could conquer the Colombia gorge, why did mankind think that they could?
The ground rumbles and shakes beneath your feet and you smile and say “Another earthquake,” and pretend you do not know what is waking up.
Houses so deep in the forests, you wouldn’t know they exist if it weren’t for the post box and trail.
Building the railroad through the mountains, who knows how many workers died up there, their bones left inside the mountains to be forgotten.
“There is something hiding in the woods,” the children whisper to each other, but you don’t try to comfort or correct them. It’s best they learn now to fear, than to learn later.
You keep your eyes up, not on the road, as you drive under suicide bridge. You can never be too careful.
Another girl drowned in the river, and they only look for her body halfheartedly, for decorum’s sake. You all know the river takes as good as it gives.
When they built the dam, the entire town let out its breath like a sigh of relief. Their secrets are buried under the water, now.
You’ve gone so long without the sun, it frightens you when you finally see it, exposed and naked in the cloudless sky. You shut the blinds and crawl back into bed to wait out the storm.
God only knows what happened to all those poor people on the mountain. We only ever found their cars, after all, their belongings still inside.
There are meetings out there, in the woods. You know, you can hear them. They dance around a bonfire and sing to the forces older than the Gods you know, and this power is real.
They call the stretch of water the Graveyard of the pacific and they aren’t wrong. The Columbia Bar claimed more than 2,000 ships, the water is greedy here.
Migrant workers moving between town and farm and work, their dark eyes gleaming with secrets you could not even begin to comprehend.
The rain is so hard sometimes, you swear it feels like penance. God’s rain to wash away the devil’s weight, and you know it’ll be okay when it
stops because the rain’ll be back right in time to wash your soul clean
of sin again.