Tag Archives: fiction

Someone Like You

Posted on by
Reply

Autumn rain caresses the New York streets as I sprint to the small coffee shop where we first met. The beautiful downpour dampens the sidewalk to a faint gray with puddles baring the reflections of bright lights and rush-hour traffic. My leather boots echo against the slick concrete as I approach the famous “Beans & Brews”.
I shake out my long, auburn hair and open the metallic door. The bitter aroma of coffee pollutes the air. I inhale deeply; reminding myself of all those mornings you sipped your coffee quietly, grinning at my wrinkled nose each time you offered me a taste.
I run my slender fingers against the course brick, our memories chiseled into every laceration in the wall. I had always found the walls of Beans & Brew to be of unique brilliance. It was a graffiti masterpiece with signatures of profuse customers invading every scarlet and cinnamon brick. Written in large, neon cursive is our names. Longing fills me as I stare at the mess of scribbles.
I fix myself at the mahogany table you so charmingly invaded four years prior. I scan the café, my eyes settling on a young girl holding her mother’s hand, clutching a porcelain cup of hot chocolate close to her chest. She glances at me; her smile like a crescent moon, dimples invading her coral cheeks. Her irises are like a blanket of sapphires with smudges of gray tinting the blue like midnight stars. Her hair cascades down her back in a waterfall of tousled, golden curls, sashaying as she scans the crowd.
For a second, I am convinced that she is your sister, Jill. I relinquish the thought as I remember Jill is much older now. She is no longer the bubbly five-year-old who we spent so many summer days with frolicking through the park until sunset flickered over the horizon.
Your face saunters into my mind, wielding my psyche into recalling every feature. Your eyes were dazzling; an eerie hybrid of cobalt and charcoal intertwining with a faint glimmer of aquamarine. Your hair was a chaos of thick, hazel ringlets that you wore short for the burden of taming the stubborn curls. Ginger freckles dusted your bleached flesh, giving the illusion of sun-kissed skin.
It is not until you approach your wife and daughter that every venerable flashback implodes. You peer at me, tilting your head to the side in reminiscence. A smile plays your lips as recognition transpires within. You walk to me, your feet gliding across the timber floor delicately. “Dinah,” You say, soft and sweet like twilight caressing daybreak. “It’s good to see you.”
I author a smile, creating a phantasm of happiness. You part as fast as you arrive, uttering apologies of your daughter’s ballet class. Your lips brush my cheek, whispering good bye. I watch as you swing your daughter onto your back, her giggles echoing throughout the shop. My eyes follow your departure until you are nothing but a shadow of the past, a beautiful ghost of our extinct romance.

The Thing.

Posted on by
Reply
The Thing.

A *very* short story by Kim Mathews

The Thing was lonely. Every day it went from here to there searching for a friend, but always it found none, and the Thing was sad. It was tired of singing and dancing by itself and it wanted someone to sing and dance with.

One day when the Thing was up and about it found a little girl. Now, the Thing loved the little girl and the little girl loved the Thing. They were always together, singing and dancing and playing pirates and Indians and everything else one could imagine playing at.

After a while though the Thing got hungry from all the singing and dancing and playing at, so it ate the little girl.

And the Thing was lonely again.

Insatiable.

Posted on by
Reply
Insatiable.
A short story by Kim Mathews.

Arthur was hiking in the woods one fine summer morning. It was such a glorious day, with the clouds so white and the grass so green and the sky so blue.

So very beautiful, he thought to himself as he listened to the joyous sound of the burbling brook and the chitter-chatter of little animals in their leafy houses. It was such a glorious day.

It was a day that had been made for being out-of-doors, for romping through the wood and becoming deliciously muddy in the much of the forest.

Arthur loved the sight of the birds twitting away amongst the brilliantly swathed trees, the happy foxes and jolly rabbits frolicking to their music, not seeming the least bothered with him as he paused to bask in their happiness. He whistled to himself a merry tune, passing by a plump spider slurping away on a twitching, struggling moth that seemed to scream to Arthur for help in a teeny bug voice, its struggles slowly ceasing…

In such a merry mood, he failed to notice the darkening sky that was fast overtaking his beautiful day. Quite suddenly, the moon managed to eat the sun, and with a defeated sigh was forced to make camp.

After rolling out his bed pack and making up the fire, his stomach gave a mighty rumble. Happily he looked through his bag to see what vitals he had packed, but found none; he had forgotten them in the anticipation of the glorious day, it seemed . He grumpily settled back down around the fire to help fight off the cool bite of the night air, tummy a-rumbling.

His mood slightly lessened, he tried to think of things to cheer himself back up. Ahh, at least he was warm! Gratefully he stretched out a hand to the merrily dancing flames that offered such comfort against the chill of darkness.

So very warm, he thought. Stretching out a tad more, he jumped back with a yelp as the once mirthful flame nipped his finger, seeming to laugh at him as he put the angry- peeling flesh of his forefinger in his mouth.

Licking his burnt skin with his tongue and tasting the seared epidermis, he was surprised when his stomach chose that moment to give a loud bellow. Ignoring it, he continued sucking on his burnt finger to ease its pain.

Upon pulling it out, Arthur was alarmed to see that all that was left of his finger was bone! His stomach gave another growl, and he with little hesitation was obliged to answer this time.

He stuck another finger in the fire until it was blacker and more burnt than the first one had been, and began hungrily gnawing until not two fingers where white as snow. Still hungry, he stuck the remainder of his hand in the heat.

So very good, he thought to himself upon finishing now both hands. Despite the rather large meal he had just eaten, he still found himself with a rather impressive appetite, so he swung his right leg around to the blaze, impatient for more.

So very HUNGRY, his thoughts screamed in his mind, now being only a meaty torso with four paper-white, jangly limbs. His hunger absolutely insatiable, he rolled himself into the inferno and to him they seemed to embrace him like a friend, holding him in its warmth…

For the rest of the night, he picked the rest of his savory flesh from his bones with teeth and twiggy fingers until all that was left was a bleached skeleton with bits of himself stuck between his teeth, sitting next to the camp fire and grinning at how lovely the forest seemed that night.

The Orange Octopus.

Posted on by
Reply
The Orange Octopus.

 

A short story by Kim Mathews.

The octopus stared at Jimmy, and Jimmy stared back. His five year old eyes widened with wonder at the sight; it was a gigantic fluffy thing, traffic-cone orange with a sewn on smile and bright button eyes, and Jimmy wanted it tremendously. Turning his gaze from the fogged up window, he stuck a tiny hand in his pockets for 25 cents. He found nothing but some crumbs and an old tootsie roll wrapper, the treat being long since digested. With a defeated sigh, he dragged his feet back to the bench to wait for his mother to finish her shopping.

Swinging his feet back and forth, he heard a curious sound of metal against stone. He turned his Spider Man shoes over to see a dirty, sticky quarter held precariously in place by a piece of blue chewing gum. He jumped up excitedly and ran to wash it off in a nearby fountain, the octopus staring at him all the while. Shoving the coin into the slot of the machine, he impatiently hopped up and down as the mechanism sprang to life. Hardly breathing, he painfully directed the shiny, rudimentary hand over his prize and pushed the button.

He started, not daring to even blink as his octopus was lifted into the air like some bizarre piñata. It dropped into the gigantic chute, its smile disappearing down in the darkness. With an exuberant yell, Jimmy stuck his hand in the door on the machine to grab his new toy, but was disappointed when his tiny fingers failed to grasp it. He got down on his knees and opened the door, seeing it all the way in the back, the mouth of the chute being more of a tunnel than an actual chute. With a triumphant grin, he pushed himself in the chute to get his toy until half of him was dangling out of the hole. Just as his hand was about to touch his treasure, a fluffy tentacle latched onto his arm. With a scream of pure terror, Jimmy tried pulling back, but he lost his footing outside the chute door, allowing the octopus to pull him into the plushy darkness while it continued to smile.

Not yet ten minutes later, the octopus watched as a little girl with bright green eyes pushed her nose against the glass, her face a lit with wonder. The octopus smiled back at her, still hungry.