Tag Archives: catastrophe jones
She Wanted Me To Tell You
His name is Thomas and it is always Thomas unless it isn’t and unless it is something else entirely something that has always been a backandforth about clarity and light, with starry eyes. He knows this, as fiercely as he … Continue reading
Last Note
* * * Heart in her throat, she sat on the back of the couch and kept her arms wrapped around the guitar. She had been playing, aching for hours now, callused fingers against fret and string, breath caught, muscles … Continue reading
A little less alone
Fresh from the kill she stumbles forward, mind racing, blood rushing, hands trembling, knees weak. First one, and it makes something in her stomach lurch, something in her heart break. It will be that way the next time, and the … Continue reading
The Final Tear
“So help me–” he began, his voice cutting through the dim, rancid air that seems to have settled. He spoke, and her heart stuttered. Oh, the world stuttered. (Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly–) A flutter of fire, a fractaling explosion of … Continue reading
Countdown
What if it isn’t really her? It doesn’t matter. What if it isn’t really him? It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. It never matters. It’s never mattered. It is him. She can feel it. Five… I don’t know if you … Continue reading