September 2008
2 posts
3 tags
/junkboxfiction: Those big black eyes
I had just finished slitting the old man’s throat when I saw him. He was standing in the doorway looking at me with those big black eyes. I still had to kill the old woman and dispose of the bodies (a good night’s work) but my mind was already racing about what to do with him. Where had he come from? Why wasn’t he reacting?
His big black eyes kept staring at me.
I was off my game and the old...
3 tags
/junkboxfiction: About
There’s a lot of waste in the creation of fiction: story-lines that dead end, characters that don’t fit, dialogues with no home. Junk. Most of the time it’s best to leave these bastard junk-children for dead but every once in a while one peeks it’s head out, begging for a second chance.
Whenever this happened I use to take the wooden bat that I kept by my computer at all times (just for these...