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SlangSkald

Joined June 2009.

27 stories, 0 challenges, 42 comments, and 13 friends

Stories

  1. Anna and the Lover

    The lover reclined on a splintered dock, bats like confetti in the air. He pulsed and grew, holding the lake, the sky and the reeds within his eye. The wind stirred in assent, sending a ripple up against the shore beneath the lover’s jutting arms...

  2. In Interrupt

    Jack fancied nature and roads, and lit his house on fire. He torched the carpet late one night and stood outside, thinking of the way the flame reflected in his eyes. He thought he heard a shutter snap somewhere and reminded himself to pick up the pape...

  3. South Not Said (A Poem)

    A short traverse through dripping wood A day self-turned from “need” to “should” With careful step and tattered wear, A garb self-sewn to disrepair. Attention more to I than it Trees and neurons Christmas lit. A small respite fr...

  4. While She Sleeps

    When she lay in bed sleeping, I’d crawl in bed next to her. I’d stroke her hair and hold her; sometimes she’d moan and move. Most of the time, she just lay still. I would always leave after a little while. I could keep busy around the...

  5. On a High Note

    Every day when I was a kid, I would go to that same cliff and look over. Call it morbid fascination, but I couldn’t help thinking about bouncing off each crag and jutting rock. I wondered what it would feel like to bounce as I fell. Would I be ca...

  6. Legacy (Mature)

  7. Brunette With Blue Eyes

    I shut the door behind me and put my bag down on the table. “Take your shoes off,” he said. “I try to keep the carpets clean.” I slipped my flats off, coughing. The house had a funny sort of smell to it, but it wasn’t enti...

  8. Tuesday Night

    He pushed his foot down a little harder, listening to the engine spin faster. The truck kicked scree and dirt behind it, throwing up a cloud dozens of feet high as the two men bounced up and down. “I’m just gonna fucking marry her, man. I&#...

  9. You Don't Have To Go Home

    Get back, he said, and pushed her into the bushes. The branches scratched her, but she only let out a grunt. They held their breath and listened to padding paws, confusing their own heartbeats with tough skin on hard floor. Minutes passed before he pul...

  10. Cloud in Paper

    Interview 55: Jacob Kuzmanowski The bed? Is all anyone asks me about, that’s the truth of the matter. (…) Yes, I have not left my bed for many years. I can tell you why, yes. You would like to know? (…) This is how I see it. It’...

  11. Hardly A Method

    Interview 65 – Fred Duncan: I have to keep my mind tight. Sometimes it starts to unravel and I see the stars and then I see myself, and then I can’t see anything. I keep my mind bound fast; I don’t let it get out. That way, I can see ...

  12. Oaky and Bitter

    I keep this little brown notebook with me everywhere I go. See, look. June 26th: Looking through contacts list; regret, wasted potential. Undertones of shame, guilt. Curious aftertaste; feeling that accompanies good book ending (is that sadness?). Took...

  13. Busted

    My house is getting full. I’m running out of surfaces. There are a hundred and fifty-six of them. It’s been three years. The foundation is creaking from the weight. A hundred and fixty-six hunks of stone. Of marble. Months and months and mo...

  14. Summer (pt. 2)

    His curious cavorting lead him soon to a gas station where old men and young men who made mistakes went and pushed the door, the jingling bell and jerking head of the kid behind the cash register enough to bring his shoes inside, giving his shaved red ...

  15. Summer

    Soft-shoed and stepping down a cracked and bruised concrete walk, the kid tread quickly, criss-crossing and quick-stepping as shoelaces beat a crooked tempo to the boy’s swaying walk. His hands gasped for balance as his arms strained at his shoul...

  16. I Am Here To Assist You

    Class Six: Personal Travel Assistance. Federally-commissioned to patrol a rotating system of thirty-two separate coordinates over the course of six hours and twenty minutes twice a day, intervals spent recharging. My duty is to assist the elderly, infi...

  17. Back Below

    The rain flows down into the canyon, carrying branches the size of logs down below the pavement. From up so close, I can see each swirl and eddy of the water as it courses its way besides the road; I can see each small, delicate rivulet coursing out al...

  18. For You

    The boy was born early. From the first moment the father saw his son, he was in love. The boy almost died, but he lived. He grew and become not strong, but healthy. He could never lift himself up into his bed or throw a ball, but he could walk, and spe...

  19. Knives

    Knives made him shudder. The gentle resistance of his well-kept blades as he pushed them through seven delicious grains made his muscles twitch. He would light candles in the kitchen, his knives reflecting fire as he moved them slowly through the air. ...

  20. Always

    I always wanted to be a captain. My father always said, “a wealthy man sells, a poor man buys.” I went to school. I learned engineering. I married. She’s pregnant. I’ve designed sixty-three boats. Some were for the Navy, some we...

  21. My Finch (pt. 6)

    He looked forward, his face painted concerned as he stammered apologies. For a brief moment, they made eye contact, and her own apologies stopped. Her eyes looked like a wild bird trapped in a cage, fluttering uselessly, trapped but trying. She gasped ...

  22. My Finch (pt. 5)

    In the store, he quickly grabbed a cart and went up and down the aisles, hoping that nothing had changed, that he hadn’t missed her, that she hadn’t been called away or detained or help up or slowed down. His heart began racing and he thoug...

  23. My Finch (pt. 4)

    At 11:37, she walked into the cafe across the store – she was running a little late. She came back outside at 11:41 and smoked on the south-facing wall, the wall facing the cafe that Michael was sitting at. She stood for a few moments and left, a...

  24. My Finch (pt. 3)

    Michael sped up once more and ducked into an alley, throwing the cigarettes into a trash can. Leaning against the wall, he unwrapped and stuffed the chocolates into his mouth in one feverish, violent action. He remained against the wall for fifteen min...

  25. My Finch (pt. 2)

    As he neared the gas station, he slowed his pace, measured his breaths, attempted to clear his head. His mind chimed along with the door as he bustled inside and, plucking a Reese’s from a display stand near the door, attempted to make himself lo...

  26. My Finch (pt.1 )

    Michael grabbed his briefcase, pushed open the door and was gone. He was still getting his tie just right as he pushed through the gate to the street; he was late, and if he missed the first step the entire day would be thrown. That wouldn’t work...

  27. Out Himself

    He went camping in the woods for six, seven days at a time. The trees were steep and rough and they made him very nervous, but he didn’t bring a tent – he was never much good at setting things up. Sometimes it would start raining and he wou...

SlangSkald's Friends (13)

  • Geebs
  • YaYa
  • Druhim
  • Centipede Damascus
  • Proctagon
  • lostsalient
  • Bryar
  • Quetzi
  • vivixenne
  • orikae
  • naporeon
  • Bad Beat
  • doorbelle

SlangSkald's Followers (33)

  • Druhim
  • Robert Q. Thero
  • lastsyllable
  • Hacksaw
  • Usagi
  • Lock
  • Proctagon
  • World Forgot
  • Brian Gefrich
  • Geebs
  • Ten
  • hashpipe
  • Olivaw
  • mlvassallo
  • Quetzi
  • Bad Beat
  • jesteram
  • lostsalient
  • Again St.
  • YaYa
  • Goofball Inc
  • animal companion
  • Vanilla Bear
  • Centipede Damascus
  • Vann Diras
  • galin
  • A Dabble of Thelonious
  • AdorableBlanket
  • Butler
  • doorbelle