Tag: apocalypse
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We’re Being Eaten
J– is studying at the kitchen table, pencil scribbling, lamp-lit, while the things slide in from the back yard. They slide out from holes we never noticed before (or maybe we always knew they were there, burrows with milk-gray wrinkled things inside, like overlarge moles, like leftovers we forgot about). J– needs to pass this…
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The Things in Ozymandias’ Shack
Old toasters, broken Rolex watches, reclaimed pallets, Prada bags shredded by biting winds and hail storms, cracked cell phone casings, hamster cages, Ed Hardy shirts hung up on the walls like ancient scrolls, mardi gras beads, BMW hood ornaments, caviar jars (empty), shake weights, plastic hurricane glasses from that one trip to Vegas, Turkish rugs,…
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To the Apocalypse, she took
To the apocalypse, she took with her an oversized beach towel, heavy and orange, bought for ten dollars at a discount bulk supplier before the starving rioters burned the building down. The towel had pineapples printed on it: stark geometric patterns of yellow triangles and vivid neon green leaves. The towel was very warm when…