Tag Archives: apocalypse

try to breathe (new 5-card flickr story)


Five Card Story: try to breathe

a Five Card Flickr story created by Tempy


flickr photo by bionicteaching


flickr photo by Choconancy1


flickr photo by Serenae


flickr photo by Serenae


flickr photo by Serenae

we walked for the joy of it

asher, david, and i, chasing stars out of hiding and reveling in the movement of everything around us

the sands shifted, the continent moved, the planet spiraled around a moving star

and we existed

by the grace of god, we existed

if we had known what was coming, would we have done anything differently?

when we went back, asher wasn’t the same

barked at shadows

refused to come inside when i let him out after dark

when he ran away, they told us that this was not uncommon in such times

what such times? we asked them

you know, these times. crazy, frenetic

dogs, cats, birds, they just can’t handle it

didn’t make us feel any better at the loss of our sweet boy

david withdrew from me
started sleeping on the couch because our bed gave him nightmares
told me about a warrior woman staring at him from the periphery
she disappeared whenever he tried to see her
really see her

i tried to understand, but i wondered if asher was what kept david sane
david told me that the woman kept getting closer

he was fired when he attacked a coworker

told me that the world was bigger than us, but there were bigger things than the world

she was whispering to him, whispering from the shadows
something’s coming, something’s coming
it’ll swallow us all whole
prepare for it
try to breathe while you can, david
’cause you won’t be able to when it comes

i took him to see a psychologist
what else could i do? he was always muttering
and i couldn’t watch him destroy himself

they told me that he wasn’t going to be able to function without meds
so we got him some meds

and he turned off

stopped talking to me
stopped talking at all

stayed home when i went to work, staring at the abandoned bird feeder in the garden

stayed in the garden until full dark

was this any better than the david from before?

the sky overwhelmed me one morning and i sat with my eyes closed
how could i stay grounded when everybody around me was not themselves? could i still be myself if they were not?
what if i was no longer the same person?

a pipe began leaking in the house and i couldn’t find it
the drip-drip was constant and david didn’t seem to mind it

i tried to ignore it until the plumber could come out to the house

at night, it joined with the whistling in the eaves to create language
i squeezed my eyes shut, but there it was

try to breathe
try to breathe
’cause you won’t be able to
it’ll swallow us all whole

mistook an old woman on a city bus for a warrior
wondered if david’s illness had taken over me
taken my mind from me

i couldn’t be crazy too
somebody had to keep the family together even if two of the members were either physically or mentally absent

adrienne from work told me to take some time off
the stress was getting to me, she said

the next month was a blur
convoluted whisperings made louder when david stopped taking his medication
we stopped watching the news
cut ourselves off

began taking long walks again, preparing

we loved like we’d never loved before
trying to breathe
left the kitchen and its peeling wallpaper

the house with the overgrown vegetable garden behind us like dusty beetle wing casing

david told me he was hungry for everything
i felt it too
gnawing my stomach, nibbling my gallbladder, devouring my pancreas and liver

until i was left as empty as a black hole
open to absorb everything

we had climbed to the highest point in miles
the world stretching down below us

david told me that i needed to look to the sky

it was soulless
the stars we chased so long ago were gone, like the life out of a man’s eyes when he sheds his mortal coil

we watched as the darkness began to pull us in
the earth trembled

we trembled
drew in gallons of air

lights shot up from far away
fire sprouted in the sky
fireworks, explosions, missiles

a nuke

all were swallowed, snuffed and eaten milliseconds after they burst
david sang a snippet of the star-spangled banner and giggled, gasping around words
lights below were snuffing out, one by one
no sounds around us but what we made
and those were being swallowed too

his hand tightened around mine
and he mouthed

try to breathe
try to breathe


Since I liked doing the last post so much…


Five Card Story: i caused it

a ds106 story created by Tempest (Erin)


flickr photo by les.epinards


flickr photo by paulhami


flickr photo by ravnclaw89


flickr photo by ravnclaw89


flickr photo by Intrepid Flame

i did this. i am a monster. no better than the things i set loose

oh god, oh god, they’re in the stairwell. i can hear their nails scrabbling against the concrete and wood. it sounds like death.

di water. electrical current, something of alchemy, something of chemistry. we weren’t exactly sure what we were doing, but it was important. more important than any of us. not carol, who had discovered the cure for cancer, not damien, who had gone to the middle east and helped people. they were good, [procreating] good people.

i am going to vomit. there’s no hell horrible enough for a [procreator] like me.

we had safety measures. we had containment units within containment units. and those were surrounded by yet more barriers and blockades. we had nothing but the best in mind. alarms seemed unnecessary. the military was only marginally interested. they were the contingency plan. none of this was supposed to happen.

the spooks warned us to leave off, of course. they have a [procreating] sixth sense about these things. we continued on. it was going to be our holy grail, our masterpiece. magnum opus.

i wasn’t there when the thing happened. i was busy watching the latest crichton movie. i was going to ask this chick on a second date (that’s what i told myself).

it never happened. the high alarm sounded and i hightailed it out of there. i knew what it meant, even if i didn’t actively admit it to myself or anyone else. i left them behind and holed myself up in the tallest building i could find.

from there, i saw everything. the mass murder when it started, the exodus of survivors to the docks, which was only more murder when they found that they were out there too, in torpor. waiting. waiting. oh, god. they’re waiting for me too. i’m running out of food.

i have a camera. ihave a [procreating] camera with high zoom. i can see the deaths of others from afar, but this new perspective is not a comfort.

they’re coming. all i can think of is that i should have asked that chick on a second date. even if the world ended in the next minute, at least i would have had that hope. am i the last one left? alive, i mean?

they’re through the door

they are coming they are coming


Five Card Story


Five Card Story: we were warned

a ds106 story created by Tempest (Erin)


flickr photo by paulhami


flickr photo by cogdogblog


flickr photo by cogdogblog


flickr photo by ravnclaw89


flickr photo by ravnclaw89

they told us that this would happen. hints in movies, in comic books, in popular culture… they let us know what was coming and we laughed it off. that which was to serve as warning became jejune, banal, ignored.

we went on with our lives, working, eating, sleeping, [procreating], ants on a [procreating] hill, hauling our [bottoms] out of bed at the crack of dawn while we hurtled towards a future we would have laughed at.

the scientists were busy, the leaders too. they had contingency plans for everything. we had entered the safest [procreating] era the world had ever seen.

nobody was happy, but god[expletive] we were safe.

scientists and leaders, they had alarms for everything. alarms to tell us when we were to be disinfected, alarms to tell us when to get on the trains, alarms to get out of buildings, into buildings, to warn us of threats to our mental and physical health.

and the high alarm. no real purpose existed for it when it was built. kids called it, you’ll get a real kick outta this, kids called it the “get on your knees and find god” alarm.
goycafy. y means yahweh, if you were wondering, since goycafg is a [female dog] to say.

one day the alarm went off. trucks of all kinds rumbled past my door. the wife and kids prayed.

i didn’t.

i followed the trucks until i heard the gurgling of millions of throats. i couldn’t go further. i ran, ran back to my house like a mother[procreating] coward. we latched the gate, bolted the door, closed the shutters, did everything we could.

we could keep them out, but we had locked ourselves in. three weeks in and martha could not stand it. she was the first to give in to the cabin fever. she would stand over the stove, looking at the wood we’d taken from the kitchen table to blockade the windows as though she could see right through it. she liked to sing, you know, before the goycafy.

now she muttered. i listened to her for a little bit, but i could feel her words wind like little worms into my chest.

i couldn’t think like that. it wasn’t fair to the kids.

i woke up on a tuesday (i think) and she wasn’t in bed.

she’d gone out to meet them. i heard movement downstairs.

it was by the grace of some higher power (or maybe a continued cruelty) that we survived. not a bite amongst us. we eluded those [illegitimate boy children].

decision to be made. house compromised, we stole through field and out to the docks. we’re heading to the ocean.

only chance now. corpses don’t move over water, i hear.


Rent a Center

I’m not feeling up to writing and illustrating a full-blown post tonight… but I do wish to post something. Therefore, I will post a poem I wrote for a class about a strange interaction my (current) boyfriend and I had with a person outside a Rent a Center.

Tiresias

One day we sat outside the local Rent
a Center, letting summer’s sticky embrace
chase us to the shade. The boiling cement
transformed the world into a humid lake.

My legs adhered to the suede couch on the sidewalk
outside the store as silence took us over.
then the man showed up and started to talk
to us. He asked Matt and I if we were

college students, if we were together, and
if we would like to hear a poem he wrote.
I said yes, we go to Mary Washington.
Matt said no, we are not dating. We both

said sure, go ahead and recite; it was too muggy
to go anywhere. Skeleton-thin and wearing
a baggy jersey and a do-rag, he was at once
utterly strange and compelling. I recall staring

at him and trying not to laugh my skepticism.
The poem was called “United States of Babylon.”
He recited it all, from disgusted tirade about hedonism
to God’s impending punishment: nuclear bomb.

He left with words of warning only for Matt.
“Not everyone who smiles to your face is your friend.”
As the boy thought and I wondered why that
bit of advice had not also been directed

at me, he disappeared into the blinding sunlight.
It would have been much more mysterious if I hadn’t seen
him later. as bright day yielded to night,
We glimpsed him later under a bridge drinking beer.