An Evening on the T

The evening train is crammed with bodies tormented by the cold and eager to get home.  They clog the doors and scoff at those unwilling to move until the conductor is yelling and pumping her red close door button.  Worn eyes and tired hands are kept to themselves; headphones and cellphones our only friends.  I'm lucky to get a seat.

“I wish it cost more,” she says.  “Then I feel like it might be worth it.”

My mind filters in the sweet voice, yearning for conclusion.  I can't see her face, but her friend nods in agreement.  And so do I.  I want whatever she's having.

A quick stop later and they are are off; two school girls looking for trouble. Or ice cream.

My gaze shifts to my reflection in the window and I fade into the hum of the crowd finding its way home.

Keep the Devil Down the Hole

Pudge jabbed his shovel into the frozen earth, letting out a sigh as it toppled over, clanking against the headstone.

"Will you cut the shit and just keep digging?" Derrick thrust his shovel back into the fresh grave, grunting as he heaved another scoop of dirt. Fisher's grave was a mess of mud and snow; recent visitors' footprints having left an outline of some macabre dance.

Pudge blew over his blisters, his cold hands as lifeless as the cemetery around them. He stuffed his hands into his jacket searching for a fix. Yellow pills, blue pills, a cigarette; anything to take his mind away from the cold. He came up empty, only finding a candy wrapper which he threw on the ground. His stomach grumbled. "I got blisters, D. Shit, how long do we have to be out here, man? We've been digging for over an hour already." His bloodshot eyes glanced around, shifting from side to side. "Fisher ain't even been buried for a day. We can come back."

Here We Go...

hi!

I'm a fledgling writer who has a passion for dark fiction. Each week I plan to post new short and flash fiction. I'm learning more every day and I will continue to post my writing as it evolves over the coming years.

Hope you enjoy.

chris