100 Words - Yodel In The Dark

 It was nearly dawn at the end of a long night of successful drinking, but unsuccessful debauchery. I left the bar drunk, lonely and hopeless. Then, walking among the still dark valleys of Brooklyn came a beautiful sound. A song. Not a song, a yodel.

I followed the echoing sound to an alley behind a butcher shop where a beautiful young woman yodeled away as she chopped up dead pigs. I watched in awe, arousal and repulsion. I wanted to approach, but couldn’t.

She finished her chopping and yodeling, scooped the meat into a wheelbarrow and disappeared into the shop.

Crossroads

100 Words - Fear The Proles

 

They were told to crush the proles. The only problem was that they had no idea who these proles were. So they built themselves a mighty bunker and sat waiting for coming prole uprising. There they say in the ecstasy of security for the rest of their days.

The archaeologists weren’t sure what to make of the compound. It superficially resembled a fortress but was easily breached. The remains inside appear to have all lived long lives, but those lives were devoid of joy. They found no books, no writing, no musical instruments, no alcohol. These were not fun people.

100 Words - Into the Void

 The void presents itself once again, but this time there is something different. Rather than the scary empty darkness I see it as a place with no restrictions. Endless possibilities. No fear. A blank page.

So what shall we build? What will fill our empty space? Will there be music? Books? Movies? Comfortable chairs, or perhaps even a comfy old couch that never looses the smell of Grandma’s brandy spills?

Will there be a garage? I’ve always wanted a garage. Walls lined with tools. Broken machines that need fixing.

Or will there be monsters, waiting to eat my eternal soul.