Randolph stood across the street from
the graffiti Jesus. The body was painted normal, in proportion to the
cross to which it was nailed, but the head was huge. A giant
caricature head hanging down in despair like a bobble-head with a
busted neck spring. The savior’s eyes were security cameras, not
painted, real. They were there long before graffiti Jesus appeared.
These eyes really did follow you as you walked by. That's why
Randolph stood here. He wanted those eyes to see him. Wanted the
slime-ball he knew was glued to the monitors to know that he was
coming.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
100 Words - Drums
Randolph heard the drums in the
distance. Hippie noise pollution he thought then listened. Hidden in
the chaos of clamber was something that didn't fit. A rhythm that
wasn't one. Randolph climbed the path up the hill towards the noise.
In the little meadow on the other side he saw the drum circle banging
away. He stood looking down on them listening for what was wrong.
Soon the drummers started trading solos and the fifth soloist was the
one. No simple banging the bongos. She was sending a message. So
simple. Three short, three long, three short. Morse code. S.O.S.
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