Still-shot of Some Crimes

The man’s hands hung over the side of the bed like serially bifurcated dicks, twitching and wriggling in the morning sunlight. In the chair next to the bed lay a book entitled, “Forty Thousand Curses the Easy Way”, a book untouched by dust and glowing a bit (though whether or not this was caused by the sun or an inner glimmering I cannot say.) I stood by the door, waiting. And watching.

For many moments, the man did not move anything but his strange fingers; and then, without warning, a fly flew in through the flue and landed right on the man’s hairy upper lip. I could see it cleaning itself with vomit, the most ticklish dance a fly knows. With a quickness came the man’s hand and away flew the fly back up the flue.

“What in chrissakes’ are you doing in my room, Dickie? What are you touching my nose for while I’m sleeping? Ain’t it early? How late is it? It seems early. I was up late. Too early for me. Get me up later. What the fuck, Dickie? Get out of here. Stop staring at me like that. You know, I’ve been studyin’ my curses so as I could maybe gain some sort of power over you by threatenin’ you with magic and withcraft. But I know you wouldn’t have liked that, so I stopped reading about it and went to bed instead. But I was up late. So can you get outta here already? Geezus.”

I shook my head, confused as to who Dickie was and why the owner of the house I had been burglarizing thought I was this man instead of the man that I truly was: a thief and a murderer. I suppose I will never know, I thought, and I took out my knife.

5 thoughts on “Still-shot of Some Crimes

  1. A tasty slice of a bigger cake, very moreish … by the way, noticed the number of tags was way over the 15+ max beyond which the post doesn’t feature on WordPress Reader, shame because people would enjoy. All the best!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I appreciate that. I use this blog mainly to free write flash fiction. My favorite exercise is to come up with an opening sentence and then let the rest just fall out of my brain. When you come up with shit like that sentence, you never know where you’re going (which is, in my opinion, the best way to travel the psycho-linguistic back roads.)

      Liked by 2 people

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