nightmare fuel | Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

4/Oct/2012

Nightmare Fuel October 2012, Day 4

Sometimes at night when all the electric equipment is on standby, Carey likes to shut her eyes and pretend it’s midday and she can remember everywhere she needs to go without blinking lights of machines that hide behind strand-of-hair-thin strings and spindly doll’s limbs.

Carey has a similar feeling now but she has never been on this bridge before. There are fish and deep things in the water, which she can ignore if she closes her eyes. She has walked a while and cannot remember how the bridge looks. Her shoe hovers and she needs to plant her foot somewhere.

3/Oct/2012

Nightmare Fuel October 2012, Day 3

This is how it happens.

Make love in seedy parts of town like teenagers again. Ignore the hip pain, hitch your breaths. “No-one’s going to use this for its intended purpose,” one of you says as you step into the glowing box.

And one of you disappears.

The one who stepped in turns around to no-one; the one who stayed outside sees you vanish when you walk in, like there’s a filter over your eyes. Going in after won’t help. You try. (It doesn’t.) You can never explain it. No reason, no explanation. ATMs have cameras. The recording shows nothing.

(Nightmare Fuel October is a Thing you can learn more about over here: https://plus.google.com/u/0/109187322359266879884/about)

2/Oct/2012

Nightmare Fuel October 2012, Day 1 & 2

https://plus.google.com/109187322359266879884/posts

Bliss Morgan of Internet fame (just google her, like) is this year again doing a thing where she posts creepy pictures and inspires flash fiction in us. I will join in! Posting this a bit late because I don’t know how time works.

Last year I participated, and while I didn’t write every day, you can see my progress here: http://kewangji.tumblr.com/october2011

Now, without further ado,

Day 1

“You sure you want to do this?” the girl with the shovel spoke with little conviction, her eyes already counting money.

“I said no questions.”

She snatched the cash from him and spread the salt around the would-be hole, rectangular. “You just don’t look like the regular clientele.”

He offered her a grunt. She dug in silence now. When all was done he climbed in and stared at the cloudless, starless sky. “What are you waiting for?”

“Last minute regrets.” Silence. “You must really miss whoever you sent to hell, huh?” The girl shoveled dirt over the stoic man’s face.

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