The Way It Was, Pt. 1

Three empty glasses sit on the table in front of me. They were filled with beer earlier. The dark wooden table hides the stains of spilled booze well, but the stickiness gives it away. Sticky tables, sticky floors. I really hope it’s just dried booze. Then again, I don’t care much right now. It’s Saturday night at Donaghan’s and I have at least three more beers to get through before closing time.

The place is pretty full. Lots of people standing around near the bar, waiting for someone to leave or just pass out. It’s a good thing I got here early. Not like I have many other place to go. I haven’t been working for the past two months and it’s been about a year since my last semi-serious relationship. My apartment is a cage, tiny and rectangular. There’s just enough space for me to breathe, but my thoughts get stifled there. Donaghan’s is a much better place to think. And nobody judges you for drinking by yourself in a bar. That’s kinda why it exists in the first place.

I suppose I could approach some of the people here, attempt to make new friends. Who knows, we might even hit it off and have a fun night. But then they would leave, going back to their lives and their jobs. And it would just be me again. As it always is. There are a few regulars around here, but I’m the goddamn customer of the month. And I probably will be for a while.

Another beer lands up on my table. It won’t last long.

As I take a swig, savoring the smooth bitterness of it running down my throat, I see two women head to the bar. Tall brunette and her redhead friend, both dressed to kill. And I’m a dead man. Under better circumstances, ones that didn’t involve being unshaven and walking around in a greasy hoodie, I would put on my most charming face, strut over to those two beauties and chat them up. Oh who am I kidding? I’d probably still be nursing an empty beer glass.

Still, they’re a welcome sight in this dingy rathole. And of course, they’re not by themselves. A man joins them soon enough. Dark tailored suit, looking so sharp it almost slices through the smoky air. Hair cut short and gelled. Clean-shaven, the scent of his aftershave filling the room. I’ll bet his teeth sparkle too. Typical Mr. Perfect, probably an investment banker or financial advisor or something that keeps your pockets full.

I can’t stop looking at him, though. There’s something familiar about him. In fact, as I push back the bleariness clouding my vision and really pay attention to his face for the first time, I realize he looks a bit too familiar. Is he an old high school friend? Or a former co-worker? No, that’s not it.

I sit up, eyes wide.

I know why his face looks so familiar. If he had a scraggly beard and bloodshot eyes, I would have recognized it right away.

It’s my face.



It was raining words.

It had started off with a drizzle. A few scattered prepositions, some conjunctions.

Now a storm was beating down on the streets, dropping the likes of ‘onomatopoeia’ and ‘disestablishmentarianism’.

Those who got hit by the words started talking. About everything.

There would be no secrets anymore.


I walk back home from work, as I’ve always done.

But the walk feels different today.

There’s something in the air. An odd feeling.

Worming its way through my skin, my bones, boring into my gut.

A terrible, inescapable sense of dread.

I left my apartment keys at the office.

In The Zone

You find yourself on a journey, destination unknown.

That’s not true.

You know exactly where you’re headed.

To a place where nightmares become real and reality is an illusion.

You just don’t want to get there.

And who can blame you?

Nobody wants to end up in…

The Twilight Zone.

This Little Piggy

This little piggy went to market,

This little piggy stayed home,

This little piggy had roast beef,

This little piggy had none,

And this little piggy made a blood sacrifice to the Old Ones so that the Sleeping Gods may awaken and once again take their forbidden thrones, bringing doom to all worlds as is their destiny while rewarding their most faithful with riches beyond measure.

This little piggy was in over his head. The Sleeping Gods awoke and began their rampage, refusing to accept the piggy as their acolyte. There would be naught but death now, as dark forces from aeons past returned, demanding blood and vengeance. All who stood in their path would be vanquished.

So this little piggy cried wee wee wee all the way home.