Anything Please, a (Horror?) Short

DISCLAIMER: Graphic violence, some may find disturbing. Please keep this in mind if you chose to continue reading, though I doubt it’s any worse than your average TV show. (Walking Dead anyone? Num num.)

This is a short story that I started working on 9 months ago and rediscovered just today. The ending is cheap I know, it’s still a WOP… mostly because I have no idea where to take it from here, especially after losing it for so long. Anyway, hope you enjoy regardless, and as always, I welcome comments.


“Anything please.”

“Fine. We’ll go with the broken finger, let’s say.. the sixth one from the left, counting from your pinky.”

“Fantastic.” I spread out my hands in front of me. They rested like miniature pink sausages on the chilly metal counter top. The spindly veins fascinated me.

“One, two, three,” he made a show of counting each digit starting from my left pinky, touching lightly, “four, five,” the blue plastic gloves he wore left traces of fine white power, dusted like ash on the fine hairs of my fingers, “six.”

“Ah, here we are. Ready?” He grinned at me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark round glasses he wore.

I shivered with excitement. “Ready.” My shoulders tensed. My fingers spread further apart. Tendons jumped up from their fleshy beds.

Bending from the waist, he reached below the desk separating us. His hand explored an area I could not see, his chin hovering near the edge of the desk. His nostrils left damp circles that appeared and receded with every breath. After a moment he withdrew a hammer, made of the same shimmering metal as the surface my pale hands now flexed upon. He examined it momentarily, testing the weight, feeling what texture he could behind the gloves and opaque glasses.

Satisfied, he rose up, over six feet in height, muscles coiling, hammer high above his head- and brought the instrument savagely down upon my finger, sixth from the left, counting from my pinky.

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Insipid Thruths

written 5/9/2015

by Megan Blaney aka wiedienacht

What’s that I should gather

From your inflections

Your insipid connotations


Cough sneer

You can thank me later

You laugh and slide closer

Further away

At my side only when convenient

More often worming ahead

Drafting me like a piece of flotsam

In your wake

Wake up I tell myself

Daily, heading my advice

Only when the chorus of wails

Around become unbearable and I drown

Them out and my own

Incessant whisperings beseech me

And I can listen peacefully

You stare listlessly beyond

Focusing on a pale spot near

My left shoulder, livid eyes

Never look toward me, only past

Tendrils of once savored feelings

Now soured and rotten

Bind us still

Here together

Your words keep slipping past me

Enticing cloying honey

Vivid bright surfaces I’m meant

To understand but

Hidden truth surges under

Tipping up, striking through

Dark strong currents, forceful rancor

Iced over masked with concern


Here take my hand, you say

And I know I shouldn’t

But I take it anyway

Eight O’Clock Sharp

A banker’s commute

Written 5/7/2015

By Megan Blaney aka wiedienacht

Intermittent clouds

Play games with the sun, cut grass sings

Like the vibrating cords of a supplicant

Torn loose from his god

Bringing sweet scent to the air

Birds twitter away

Oh how I wish I could be included in the

Revelry

Their secret lives

The joke’s on us I suppose

A cat stretches, bites at hidden fleas

Bolts sudden from his ambush site, sight

Runs from mine

Behind trees

Alarm calls explode around

Screeching sirens pierce like blades

That settle suddenly on silence, pregnant

With expectations of horrible things

With a hesitant, dare I say brave?

Single sharp sign

The chorus begins again

I walk on

Passing lovers holding hands

And kissing, oblivious to the

Scene transpiring around them

Onto the crosswalk

I pass a thin man, lit cigarette in hand

A gecko tattooed on his exposed wrist

Out of the park, back to the cubicle

At my desk for eight

O’clock sharp

Hello world!

Good morning, afternoon, or evening! Welcome to my very own, very new, blog. I guess I should say thanks for visiting.

Who am I?

Good question, still figuring that out.

Why blog?

See above.

Perhaps more pertinent to you: why read my blog?

I’ll be posting journal entries, poems, artwork, short stories.. pretty much anything I create I will add here. If you’re interested in any of that stuff, or would like to offer helpful tips along the way, or share your own struggles – feel free to follow my blog and comment!

I’ll also be posting various random other things regarding self discovery, interesting things I learn, etc.

In closing, I hope this blog reflects my attempt at a convergence of scattered ideas, pieces that as a whole make up picture of who I am and who I hope to become.That brings me to why I’m here: I want to share that journey with anyone who’d like to tag along.