poetry & short story author – artist & nature lover
It would be a mercy killing, right? I hesitate. The boy can’t be more than five. But his eyes are dead and he shows no emotion. He has been drowned and resurrected so many times I wonder how he still lives. He harbors no hope for himself and neither do I. There are scars where he had once been bound though it’s obvious he no longer struggles against his kidnapper. I release him from his current torture and he speaks not a word but points to a door before silently shuffling out another.
I know the door he gestured to leads to a basement. I open it and descend to the dimly lit room below and find a half a dozen young boys and girls, all raped and molested to the point of wretched indifference. All bear marks carved into their flesh where their tormentor has cut away pieces with which to eat. I am repulsed and I can see they are empty shells at this stage. Why even release them? They appear alive but really aren’t, inside.
I hear movement above me and put my finger to my lips though by their dead-eyed stares I know they have no compunction to make a noise either way. Quietly, I stole back up the stairs and crossed into the next room where he stood. I saw the coal black rage in his eyes as he assumed I stole the now-missing child, though he would not utter a word about it, for fear of the chance I knew nothing.
I, for my part, have no problem showing my hand, quietly whispering, “oh, vile wicked creature”. His lip twitched in an almost-snarl but his skin was greasy and pasty with spots of sweat and I knew at that moment I would choke him to death, even as I envisioned it perfectly in my mind. He will never hurt another.
tara caribou | ©2019
The latest addition in my category named Insomnia. These are real dreams taken at real times. They might be dark or weird or fantastic or erotic. Welcome to my mind.
Insomnia (noun) 1. inability to obtain sufficient sleep, especially when chronic; difficulty in falling or staying asleep; sleeplessness.
Worlds Awaiting Discovery
original artwork, comics, fiction, & creative non-fiction
spit, mixed with dirt - muddy words flow
Apologies for my apologies
Poetry by Charles Joseph
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou
Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
livingforthemoon
good one
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This was so vividly powerful! Love that righteous vengeance at the end – viscerally satisfying.
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Thanks
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This was really good!
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Thanks Braeden. It’s dark enough… I had a feeling you’d appreciate it.
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The darker the better! 😉
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I’m sure! One of my upcoming Explorations journal entries… Ballistic, I believe, will delve into the darkness as well.
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Awesome
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But… I think I’m more of a lover than a… uh, dark-er. Wait. That doesn’t work. Never mind.
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Powerfully written! A surreal tragedy, though it actually makes sense.
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Thanks. I’m happy that you enjoyed this.
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Creepy cool
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It was pretty creepy, yes.
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Woow that was shitty. There’s a screenplay right there. 😳😱
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BTW Shitty as in very scary and cruel 👍🏻
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It was not a pleasant dream, sure.
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