FrazzeledFish

Chapter 40 “So it’s settled then?” Sam asked those circled around him at the cruddy, worn oak table. “As much as it can ever be.”  Louis said, his hands folded on the table, face pensive, as though in some sort of repenting prayer. Sam looked at Louis and Rosie; he supposed they were something like his knights now, should he think of himself so highly to consider himself on a ‘knightly’ mission. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Tomorrow?” Rosie asked, interrupting the awkward silence that had risen from Sam’s bitten-cheek silence. Her voice was as gentle as ever, almost unhea

Out to Lunch Dreams are hilarious. Even in the most realistic of them; where everything’s a carbon copy— from the proportion of your door to your window down to the exact shade of ‘Precious pink’ on your mom’s lipstick—something’s wrong. Despite the meticulous detail that would make even the most perceptive scratch their heads, there’s always something off. Something you wouldn’t notice at first, something that seems normal under the intoxication of REM but makes you wonder: ‘what the hell was that?’ when you wake up. Which is how I knew that, despite being a beautiful rep

July 1st, 1995 If you lived in the city on July 1st, you were in the Dome. Fights broke out for good seats, avoiding the roped off VIP section, reserved for the Type-A heroes. Cameras flashed. Reporters struggled to ask bystanders what they knew, whether the heroes have arrived, where they were going after the ceremony. Observing them from backstage, I realized how they all crowded in like ants on a stray apple core, all hungry and unnervingly easy to please Nervousness knotted in the pit of my stomach. Tucker stood behind me with mom, who was adjusting his tie for the seventh time that evening. The rest of the new recruits stood behind h

March 23rd, 1995 Instead of going back to the party, Tucker took me to the convenience store around the corner to buy bubble gum and slushies. Everything turned out better than I thought. Our parents didn’t think the same. Together they had explained to Tucker a thousand times how these parties would be “essential” for his reputation, and a “key factor” into fitting into the “Type A” category. For the most part, he trotted along, whipped like a prized racehorse. But there were days where he couldn’t trail behind them, he came to the point of his life where he realized, with horror, that thes

March 21st, 1995 Swooping dancers adorned in long, silken dresses hung on the arms of handsome men garnished in tuxedos. Dates walked arm-in-arm with glasses of champagne in their hands. Golden curtains, light coral pink walls, and a shining hardwood floor accented the ballroom. Mom and Dad loved dragging us to this kind of crap. My hair was hard and itchy from the hairspray, and high heels made my feet burn. Tucker and Michael were off with my parents somewhere, I’d lost sight of them a few minutes in. I walked among the crowd in an attempt to find them, scooting my way past women in Dior and Chanel and men who shot me looks of con

January 16th, 1995 I guess I couldn’t really blame them, something like this hadn’t really happened before. The superhero gene is genetic after all; it’s destined for the child of two superheroes to have a superpower. My older brother and my younger brother both had developed their powers already, and had them for years. I was fourteen, and I hadn’t. It was unheard of. Being superheroes themselves, there wasn’t a lot of time to figure out what was wrong with me, and at the moment there wasn’t a superhero genetic specialist around to see what the problem was. The backyard of our house was several seclude

Hairbrushes and Open Doors Coal stained, sweating, in a chorus of laughter they walked out of the darkness of the mine and into the star-speckled evening. Coughs resonated from the crowd, ignorant to the diseases they contracted, their only thoughts concerning the day’s pay and the families eagerly awaiting them with open arms and worry-strained hearts. More coal dust showed on Elijah than his actual skin, the white of his shirt long since turned black. Distracted, he walked with his friends, barely focused on their conversation. “Eli.” “What?” He asked, spinning toward another miner. “I said, are

12 Step: Belief “Alright everyone,” The leader’s fingers were wound tightly around her clipboard as the monsters took their seats. “You sound cheery, Miss. Bernard.” Vince said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Well..” She stopped, “Are you drinking blood?” She asked. Vince looked down to his mug, then back to the leader, “What of it?” They stared at each other a moment, “It’s against protocol.” She said slowly, “Remember the first meeting?” “I try not to.” “Vince, wouldya just dump the shit?” Medusa complained, se

Sandcastles           I confess guys. I’m Hanged Man. I aided Epidemic in his quest to release the X contagion. But, it’s not what it seems, really. It’s not like I decided to go evil overnight. It’s that “S” gene you heroes pimp out;Uncovering the truth behind it became my heroin, and he was the only one who’d supply me with a fix.           I’ve discovered the truth, it lies within the pages I’ve written here. This contains my thoughts, feelings, and most importantly (to you people at least) my actions. Forgive me, I’m going to set things right. I’m so sorry.          

Face Value His eyes watered like a corpse, his gut extended far past the regions of his belt, and his hair--whatever was left of it—was gray and fell in downy tufts against his liver-spotted head. Henri knew he was no looker, walking down the streets in his polyester suit, keeping a grip on his suitcase. It was well within his knowledge that pedestrians avoided his sickly appearance and varicose veins. But he never minded, to him life was simple, and to anyone who knew him--and knew him well-- they’d admit to it being his charm, why they bothered speaking to him in the first place. He was a red, white, and blue blooded man, who