All posts by kmjmreed

Halloween on the East Coast of Nowhere

poetry, Words, , , , ,

In the descending fog, someone’s getting lost. Late night tales are telling, Hell-o-ween, I said! How’s my spelling?

It’s the trick and no treat, that slow knock on the door, from no-one. Those masked, silent at your gate, come on now kids, pack it in! It’s getting late!

Do they celebrate death and worms? Tell me what you heard, what you saw? Now tell me again, ok, prove it to me, I want the gory details, do you see!

Because, everybody in the house might scream! And something in the house might go arrrrgh! One by one in the house they will go!?! Hello? Anyone left?

We love the scare; we love the violence, for it’s a full moon tonight, how nice – (silence).

Untitled Morning

creative writing, Flash Fiction, poetry, , ,

I awake from sensitive sleep. I’m out of tune to the bed-sheet; like magnet

against a magnet, not yet fully formed to be part of this new day.

My right hand is a cutout, a hole; in shape of a hand on the edge of

substance.

I attempt to grab for my duvet, but my hand sinks through it; as if softer.

Then, like warm sands engulfing cold, ancestral rock, my hand slowly returns to

me, as I watch it closely re-generate; appreciation of owner-ship is fulfilled,

and it proceeds to move by my own accord; to turn off the irritating alarm!

The Water’s Edge

creative writing, Flash Fiction, poetry, , , , ,

As I walked down to the water’s edge I knelt and plunged my right hand in,

increasing the rivers density, I watched my hand dance until I thought the river may

run dry, that my hand may never return to me.

I was wrong, my hand soon returned and it hurt like hell.

Then the river dissipated, cruelly, as I was now struggling to comprehend

dying among the scorching sand-dunes.

Clockwork Waterfall

creative writing, Flash Fiction, poetry, , , , , ,

So we decided to drive up the waterfall, but the waterfall was redundant and

dry. While travelling vertically; the impossible was performed with ease, I

couldn’t help but wear a fixed smile until arriving at its crest.

Then a tarn with tranquil water, slick and so pure with

elaborately carved structures floating: some were peacefully rotating.

I noticed they were broken, perhaps abandoned before completion. It was at

that moment  I had forgotten why we… but more now I, was there at all.

Somehow without trying, I walked forwards, sure-footed: leaving behind what

had vanished behind me.

Now everything was much closer, and silent, with timely rushes of air, pressed

intermittently at my cheek; forced gently by numerous random walls from

what were now replica houses made from wood.

Clocklike and clockwise, suddenly in the far distance I see faceless builders as

undisturbed artists that do not seem to care, and the placid water

nearby does not respond to the continuous stirring upon it. The half buildings

have reversed the effects of time, and suddenly I must go… where? I do not

know.