BLOG NUMBER TWENTY-SIX: PONTOON TALES…
There is no protection from rejection, so here’s another collection; a selection that failed to attract any attention. A curation of miniature creations. An exhibition of my obsessions. Take ‘em or leave ‘em (although, be forewarned, I drove out to a forest at the witching hour, leaving them deep within the undergrowth to wither and die, and yet, somehow, they still manged to survive the perilous night, crawling all the way back to me through the mud, rain and thunder, finally taking up residence once again inside my rotting brain… evil little bastards…)
HE EVEN by Steven Holding.
Inflated with self-righteousness, the dead approached paradise’s pearly gates. “Surprise!” screeched the cackling demon, lurking inside, “It’s ME you’ve been worshipping!”
FIRST CRUSH (RAMPANT TEENAGE LUST) by Steven Holding.
Fluids spilt over the girl on the record sleeve. They’re a bugger to clean off. It’s his brother’s LP ‘n all.
BEYOND THE VEIL by Steven Holding.
Masks made smiles a memory remembered. Faces hidden became the same. But her wide-open eyes just couldn’t forget how to cry.
HERE AFTER HEREAFTER by Steven Holding.
Every soul the Earth had seen came back again. Nobody knew where they’d been. But everyone was dying to get there.
FACTITIOUS DISORDER IMPOSED ON SELF by Steven Holding.
She’s always angling for attention: fishing for sympathy. Constantly coughing until it became unfashionable. Now it’s a limp. Left. And right.
SHE HURT by Steven Holding.
The thrift shop shirt seemed like a steal. She never noticed the previous owner’s tattered soul, still sewn into its seams.
FIRST FINGERS, THEN A FIST by Steven Holding.
His love fit like a glove. Until the gloves came off. A kitchen knife came in handy. Now, he’s totally harmless.
ANOTHER GENRE PIECE by Steven Holding.
Frightened, he finally realised that every tale was a horror story. There was no escaping it; everybody dies at the end.
End of transmission. Over and out.