Bad Asylum

Online since 1808

Category: Just Stories

Out of the Closet, Into the Woods: Gaming With Children #3

Part One

Part Two

Alright, enough procrastinating. When we last left our decidedly-not-heroes, they were cowering in a closet after the cries of a woman echoed through their small and once peaceful village.

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Sharknado Poison: Quoth the Raven #4

It’s two o’clock and I’m just now starting this blog post. I almost bowed out. Get back on the horse tomorrow. But I know myself better than that. Miss one day, and I’m done. That horse will be dead.

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Soulless Eyes

[This isn’t even remotely close to what I sat down to write this morning. I’m not asking you to accept the conclusion, because I don’t. It’s just what flowed today. I want to give it a trigger warning, but I feel like I shouldn’t. That’s your warning. I’m going to consider this draft the final product and never look at it again.]

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The Sexophonist: BAMusic #3

It’s Tuesday again! (They say it’s a new Tuesday, but it feels the same. Like a week long groundhog day, made longer by the fact that my wife won’t let us watch Russian Doll until it has concluded… in it’s entirety.)

But Tuesday. And it’s on the tail end of Valentine’s day, so I figured our song this week would have to be Wham! (I said so last week, and I’m a man of my word. Because I said I am.)

If Deadpool introduced you to George Michael then a simultaneous shame and kudos to you.

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Spoon

Children in the midst of nightmare are an unnerving sight. You try to speak to them through their anguished wails, assure them with a touch, only to be pushed away by their flailing limbs. Even when they finally wake, they’re so dazed you can’t be sure they’re conscious. Can’t be sure they know where they are, or who you are. Their fear persists, eventually dying down to a whimper, which eventually subsides to sleep.

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Dead Girl’s Smile

[I’ll leave it here, but it’s shit that needs a whole lot of work or straight up burnt. Enjoy.]

A girl stared back at me from inside the mirror stood at the back of my closet. Black hair, pale skin, naked. I didn’t recognize her despite feeling that I should.

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Tidal Wave

We, my mother and I, had just climbed out of our little green Nissan.

We walked into the store. Its layout was unlike any place I had ever been. Not that it was particularly bizarre. Just noteworthy that it was foreign to me. I had expected some semblance of familiarity upon entering.

The walls were filled with things I didn’t recognize. The entire floor was bare except for a large (you could swim in it, though I would rather swim with sharks) wire bin in the middle of the store. Within it existed the only thing in the store I knew. I found no comfort in their familiarity.

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Will I Have My Answer in the End?

I was running and I didn’t know why. It was dark. It was raining. I could only tell I was moving across grass because of its familiar feel beneath my feet.

Not by its wet crunch. I couldn’t hear that. Not because of the rain. I couldn’t hear that either. Sound was absent except for one.

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