Author Archives: Catastrophe Jones

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.

Strip Clubs

Strip clubs weren’t a venue of choice; it was too easy to get distracted by a change in the music or the way the disco spotlights would twirl. That night, however, as he sat and waited, he watched the ice … Continue reading

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Freshly Expired

He could taste the hot copper of spilled blood; it ran over his cheek and joined with the runnel caught in the edgecurve of his nose, then split again, one river brightly glistening over nostril and philtrum, while the other … Continue reading

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Sharply Blue

He remembered the first time he thought he was going to die. Blood reddened his white shirt, ran over his chest and shoulders, wet and warm and somehow wrong — the sight of blood disturbs some; the sight of one’s … Continue reading

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With Your Heavy Fists

Pull the words out from behind my eyes; they’re saltstained and tearfresh. Every time he looks to his right, there is bittenback fury — he’s so tired of hearing the same thing over and and over and over and over … Continue reading

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Wearing The Bones And Blood

His leaving was unremarked by everyone, save for the girl, who felt hollow with his going. In the other bedroom, Claire whispered “Come back,” but no one could hear her in their own dreams. Less than an hour later, however, … Continue reading

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