Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: drabbles

13/May/2013

21

Day, night, day, night.

Day; night. The sun races across the sky like it’s got something to lose and hides behind the big blue planet when it can.

 

Day … night. We grow plants on our bodies and we hold our breaths when we can’t see the light. It burns our lungs. Day, then night. The stars come out to play like fish in the rain. They swirl out here, quite unlike the static sky down on soil. They spin and spin and spin and we are more still than ever. Day –

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

night. We are never going to go inside again.

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12/May/2013

An Amicable Alternative to Divorce

I have redefined you to exclude the bits of you that I dislike. I know this sounds harsh, but it is the only way to save us. I figure fair is fair, so I have divided your stuff up, 70/30, so that you can keep at least a third of your stuff. It is okay because you will have me. I have sent the other parts of you home to your family. I paid for the plane ticket myself. They said they would pay me back but I know better by now, don’t I? That’s why I sent them away.

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11/May/2013

How Do I Become One?

They travel the night, searching for some tragedy to attach themselves to and define themselves by. You can pass them on the road, though you mustn’t stop to talk to them. They will be travelling on foot and seeming like shadows. Some say they were once human, though these rumours are unsubstantiated. They have an almost human form. You can see them at the outskirts of towns where there have been gas leaks or plane crashes, and you can see them, one for every life taken, slowly sinking into the ground until they are the saplings of some unknown tree.

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10/May/2013

they will be wrong of course

you wake up in the absence of moonlight to a shocking realization related to the way you’re going to die soon, any day any year now. you know perfectly well that you’re going to die but there’s a bitter taste on your fat tongue and a six-legged chill crawling its way up your spine: there are people out there with ideas about who you are, who you really really are deep down underneath the personality and the skin and the bone. that and nothing else will be what is left of you: strangers’ hastily formed impressions of an insignificant person.

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9/May/2013

Not Even You

Nobody sleeps with the first one they kiss, it’s a rule. It’s either too early or too late. Your first kiss never leads to your first lay, if only for the fact that they are not the same person anymore by the time you reach the part where you unzip your denim jeans and wiggle out of your clothes. And you can see it in their eyes then as they look at you with that questioning look because they don’t want to outright ask. Afterward, in all likelihood, they return to the same person they were before, and they leave.

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8/May/2013

Shipwreck

I feel like a shipwreck. I sank like a stone. The finest masonry this side of the ocean I tried to cross did not help, but I got exactly halfway before anything happened. Cracks spiderwebbing all over my hull and you will never pull me up in one piece. You can salvage the fine china. I can feel your wires and divers attach magnets and hooks but if you move me, I will fall apart like a slow-motion fireworks display. The waves are doing their part, the corals theirs. Perhaps one day I will bloom with them but for now …

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7/May/2013

Doing Much Better Now, Thanks

He stared at his cupcake, its soft artificial pink was much softer than the artificial pink of her skin, which he had once loved.

Sometimes he looked at art. Cubism. Braque, not because it didn’t remind him of her – it didn’t – but because it was good. Braque knew his cubes.

Like, should he stalk her to find out what café she dines at just to avoid it himself? That seemed counter-intuitive.

He had even discarded all the tapes, not because he had memorized them all, but because he needed space for his new record collection.

He was just that cured.

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6/May/2013

Douglas

But that was their choice, their hearts, not his. They had made him lonely and he had made himself almost lonely. That was okay. The thing about Douglas, Douglas knew, was that he had always been a fanatic. Not always of the same ideas, and often about the wrong person, but the fire burned within him strongly like a star’s heart. There weren’t too many people who could handle that, but he had recently made acquaintance with someone who could, someone who could put it to great use. Douglas needed to be used, so that he could stop feeling useless.

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5/May/2013

Woolen Socks

The patient looked at once eighty years old and eighty minutes. Covered in red slime, eyes sunk so far into her skull that she could not see, and a lack of hair. She breathed in short bursts and then held her breath. When she opened her mouth and accidentally swallowed the water, it was obvious she had no teeth. Little fingers grew from the stumps that were her shoulders.

Keys rattled. Woolen socks, plain white shoes stepped in. A man in a labcoat picked the patient up and rattled her until she coughed up the water.

The man walked away.

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4/May/2013

Aching for You to Eclose

You were a nervous kid in winter; not anymore. You have wrapped yourself in so many layers of protective silk that you can’t breathe. You won’t let me in, you won’t let anything out. You think your heart is a cocoon, but you failed biology quite catastrophically and one day your chest will hatch. A million moths will escape you and as long as their wings beat your blood will pump, sure, but the moths belong to everyone who was ever nice to you. Every time someone dies, your pulse will slow. And I am waiting for spring to come.

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