surreal-fiction

Sheelaa was deranged. I knew it as soon as I seen her. I’d just gotten outta Custer’s Bar and Last Stand after losing $500 on darts. The hills were just misting over and lights made them shine like used-up starlets. It was kind of a bright/dark out – the kind that hides old eyes and shows-off cleavage to its best advantage. Just to make an introduction to that cleavage, I brought the lightshow to this gal’s attention. She was sitting and thinking on a town bench outside the bar. She told me it looked like the undersides of a tinfoil airplane at high-noon. I knew right then and there we was to be friends. She said her n

There is darkness behind her eyes. It is profound, sad and growing and she cannot contain it. Something is pushing her. She is infested. Bones crack. Tendons rip. This thing extends beyond her ability to fathom. Soft black pooches raccoon otherwise pale, blue-veined lids. She slits her grey eyes and cups her oddly shaped belly, feeling it’s subtle vibration. Her stomach purrs or hums or judders. She brushes her fingers across the rounded protrusion. A random thought crosses and re-crosses her mind. She thinks a certain swell complicates things. Her body is hard and she feels sacrificed upon the press of time. Almost thin to the bone, s