Posted in Fireteam Spectre on May 22nd, 2009 by Tom Moses – 1 Comment
He laid the lint brush on the table to his left as he tied a single winzer knot in his tie. Jackson hated the double, he could never make it work right and for expedience he opted to stop trying. The lint brush ran over his shoulders and he stared in the mirror to make sure his appearance was as professional as he liked to keep. Satisfied after a few more strokes he made his way downstairs and once again hoped to smell a breakfast that was never in the air anymore.
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Posted in The Clink on May 20th, 2009 by Tom Moses – 2 Comments
Jules slid his feet over the polished tile floor, walking had proven difficult enough but really, why was there any hurry? The officer stuck closely behind him and Jules thought about how funny it was that no one else paid any attention to his presence. No stray glances, no gawking, not even an unkind phrase was good enough to acknowledge him. He kept on the straight path toward the elevators guided only by the officer’s occasional word: “Right” or “Left”.
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Posted in The Clink on May 4th, 2009 by Tom Moses – 2 Comments
He reached over and felt the bracelets that gripped his arms to the bars he could only feel. His eyes still didn’t work, not that they didn’t open, but he heard the doctors speak about contusions, brain trauma, and partial blindness. Jules, coughed and it startled the doctors. A nurse rushed to his side and starting asking questions a mile a minute, but he could only barely hear her.
“Stop,” he pushed a struggling voice passed his lips.
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Posted in The Moonlight Never Sways on May 3rd, 2009 by Tom Moses – 4 Comments
My eyes aren’t even open and I know the trouble I’m in. The sweet taste of blood lingers in my mouth; absent-minded I flick my tongue over a string of meat stuck in one molar. The room reeks of blood, and a scent of a sweet perfume I know I don’t want to even attempt at opening my eyes to see what’s laying next to me.
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Posted in Non Fiction on April 28th, 2009 by Tom Moses – 2 Comments
The heavy overcast spreads across the sky. Cut into pieces by the jagged mountaintops that disappear into the horizon. A softer than normal crosswind helps break the heat of the day, an effect started by the rarity of a coming rain. There isn’t a sound, with an exception to the stray bugle player testing his lungs.
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Posted in Flash Fiction on April 28th, 2009 by Tom Moses – 2 Comments
It is only eighty degrees out, the sun is blocked by most of the buildings and there’s not much in the way of direct shine to blind people. Yet, nearly everyone wears sunglasses anyway. It’s not so much of the UV protection from burning out their retinas or even drying their eyes, but there’s that “hey aren’t I fucking cool” mystique that drives an individual to spend more than ten dollars on some aluminum and dark plastic eye shields. It’s that “hey look at me syndrome” where people are sporting their Oakley’s to the person next to them hoping they thing “damn, those are so cool I want a pair.” And it’s those sorts of people that keep this economy running.
Everyone has to keep up the Jones’ these days.
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Posted in Flash Fiction on April 28th, 2009 by Tom Moses – Be the first to comment
The train hissed to a halt and the masses exit like cattle led to their deaths. A slow death unfit for cattle, these men and women moved through their terminals and their turn styles, counting for the census bureau and giving job meaning to a useless endeavor. The stairs were dirty, a homeless man sat to one side and routinely kicked. He didn’t seem to mind.
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Posted in The Clink on April 27th, 2009 by Tom Moses – 2 Comments
Cold and raining, Jules Perrish can felt every bit of the weather through the orange jumpsuit, but more importantly he could feel every eye tearing through his soul. The classification center, had no fence, hardly much room for much else than triple bunked cells and a weight room, as inmates spent only as much time as was necessary to send them to their new homes away from society. For Jules, on that first day stepping off the bus from county jail, getting out of the classification center was only the first step in a twenty-year sentence.
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Posted in Half-Assed and Half Finished on April 25th, 2009 by Tom Moses – Be the first to comment
It is a starless night, not unlike many winter nights in this city. The clouds pass over the sky, keeping even the moon hidden from sight. Only the dirty yellow that emanates from the rusting posts that curve over the sidewalks provide any light of use.
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Posted in Flash Fiction on April 25th, 2009 by Tom Moses – 4 Comments
When a fire burns so bright that it becomes invisible to the human eye, it is almost too hot to imagine. Such a while hot flame sears the flesh before the fires come near, the pain starts immediately, the burning heat. The extremities are the first to cry out, but they cannot do it through words, only boils and blisters that will quickly rupture. He can’t cry out, what words would there to be said? It’s all over for him now, nothing left but to watch as everyone he knows is burned asunder.
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