Have you ever looked into the void? The space behind your eyes as you look in to the mirror? The blackness where your soul is supposed to reside?
The nothingness?
I suppose it might not be Nothing for everyone. For me, however, behind my pinprick pupils as I look into my bathroom mirror, Nothing appears. No soul. No self. Nothing.
As mentioned in the title, this is a guest post. Credit to Bria.
---
The folklore of the Six Pillars has kept itself alive in the minds of the villagers for hundreds of years. Elusive and ever-changing as the tale may be, locals never fail to draw inspiration and a strange sense of patriotism from the structure that has stood and thrived through the elements throughout the centuries. What does it mean? How was it made? It all remains a mystery, with deeper curiosities than the likes of the comparable relic of Stonehenge.
The barren land of Saphik is comprised of 3,300 acres of fruitless land; all resources stripped from the reservation due to lack of cultivation and residual devastation from wars endured throughout the years. Yet, a single monument continues to bear witness to what was. The Six Pillars stand tall and are made out of a mysteriously refined form of igneous rock mended with soot and a primitive concoction of cement. How could a symbol of culture and society exist in a wasteland? The existence of the structure has raised many questions, but birthed more stories and legends than logical explanations.
Even still, nearby villagers who thrive in livable ecosystems have still managed to draw inspiration from the pillars. It remains a symbol of hope, perseverance, and accomplishment in a land where the construction of such a monument is virtually impossible. The Saphik natives have claimed the land with their flag and aspire to transform it into the fertile territory that it was once believed it to be.
"You're nuts."
"What about my nuts?"
"No, you are nuts - crazy!"
"Oh, I thought you were talking about my secret cache."
"You have a secret cache?"
"Of nuts. Yes."
"Why do you have a secret cache of nuts?"
"For the winter, of course."
"For the winter?"
"When there are no nuts."
"..."
"What should I do?"
"Order out?"
"I'd prefer my nuts."
"All winter?"
"Yeah, man."
"... okay."
As mentioned in the title, this is a guest post. Credit to Matt DeCaro. I've tried to match his use of the page.
---
Hello
thank you for being empty
it's hard to be empty
though
many are.
"You hungry?"
"Me? Sure."
"You can draw anything."
El Bar Antagonism
All over a name
Almost witnessed a fight
How close we came
Men ordering drinks
Specials abound
One guy specifically
In need of a round
And then it happened
The worst insult of all
When the guy with the thirst
Was called... "cheeseball!"
I wouldn't say it was a gloomy day otherwise - while I didn't wake up full of vim & vigor, I was able to get out of bed at a reasonable time. I made it into the office before my boss and was able to get some work done in between visits to the break room, the bathroom, and a generous lunch. The owner's kid even made a pot of coffee for everyone. The day had not crushed me by overwork nor the ennui of underwork.
On my way home, however, I looked up. The sun was fuzzy.
I would not recommend a fuzzy sun.
"What do you mean you're not Batman?"
"Precisely that - I'm not Batman."
The homeowner eyed the responder slack jawed, his breathing audible over the commotion in the house behind him.
"But I called Batman."
"And he's not here," the bewhiskered man in the cat suit responded. "I am. What's the issue?"
"I specifically told the operator I needed Batman!"
"Sir, what's your emergency?"
"Why would they send you?"
"I was nearby. What's the problem?"
"The problem is: I WANTED BATMAN!"
"THE PROBLEM IN YOUR HOUSE!"
"I SET MY WIFE ON FIRE!"
"Verily I say unto thee, I require another”
The bartender appraised the woman for a moment, taking in a missing shoe, a cape, and a tit one dance move away from escaping her top. She sighed, looking at a bar full of other customers.
“Honey, what is your deal?” The bartender asked.
“Verily I say unto thee - I am the slushie slut! I am here to liberate your slushies. Forsooth!”
"Sit, my friend, sit."
The office was a lair of mahogany, red leather, and cigar smoke; the indicated chair no less a constrictor than the other furniture and, indeed, no less a monster than the inhabitant of the high-backed chair across the desk. An inhuman puff of smoke wafted toward the ceiling and exploded across the surface as it made contact. There was a moment of silence as the white cloud dissipated into the brown textured tiles.
"Well?" The moment was over. I sat.
"You have something I want," them monster growled, safe in his lair. "I think I have something you want. I'll make you an offer."
I waited for a bit for the offer to become explicit.
"It is, nevertheless, now mine," stated Slim. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."
"Legal possession! When you've come into something legally the courts are more likely to uphold your right to possess it if it's in your possession." Shelly took a big breath. "Conversely, you're more likely to be held responsible for wrongdoing if the object of intrigue is still in your possession. That's to say you'll get in trouble if you have stolen jewelry in your home even if you weren't the one who stole it."
"Are you a cop?"
"No, but,"
"Are you going to tell the cops?"
"No, but,"
"Then that legal shit doesn't mean a fucking thing. The lifesaver is now mine and there's fuck-all you can do about it."
[26 May 2021]
I am sinking in a bog, making snow angels.
Thick mud covers my ears, its brown filling my nostrils.
I accept.
Who would pull me out?
Who would complain I'm muddy?
Why deal?
