I Still Hate That Charlie Bradberry


So, I was sitting in my local Starbucks, sipping on a grande salted caramel mocha with no whipped cream, when Charlie walked in. That Charlie Breadberry, with his fat nose and his minacing gash of a mouth, turned upward in a smile. His cartoonishly large red eyes. Oh how I hate that Charlie Bradberry.

He walks in with this foul grin on his face. He walks up to the barrista and repulsively opens that gash of a mouth: “I’ll take a grande salted caramel mocha. No whipped cream.” He says.

The nerve of that guy. Where does he think he get off even ordering the same thing as I.

He gets his drink and walks toward the door. He stops.

“Jack!” He says. “Fancy seeing you here friend.”

I look up at him standing there. Where does he get off directing that vile stench of words toward me.

He stands there awkwardly for a minute. Avoiding me with those red eyes when I don’t respond. He finally walks out the door.

I couldn’t stand it anymore, that Charlie Bradberry, with his looking and his speaking and his being. So, I followed him out of the Starbucks.

I’m not sure what exactly happened next, due to blacking out in an uncontrolable rage. But when I became aware of everything and the rage was gone I was just standing there.

I stood there, over the body. Holding the blood smattered knife at my side. I’m not sure where it came from, the knife. I stood there starring at the corpse. Chanting. The same word over and over again. A name. Charlie.

That was a weird dream right? Because it was most definitely a dream. Okay, it was not a dream. I killed Charlie Bradberry. Charlie Bradberry is dead.

I called the authorities and they laughed at me when I told them what happened.

“Death isn’t real you idiot.” They howled over the phone.

I pleaded and pleaded for them to come. They finally agreed to.

When the authorities arrived, all three of them, we all stood over the body of that Charlie Bradberry. Looking at it intently. Amazed. Like, what are bodies supposed to do when a person dies? No one has died in like, ever. What are we supposed to do now?

Today’s Quote of the Day is:

“I speak of only the things I see and hear; A vague shadow in the morning light, A terrible, high pitched, soul wrenching scream, A low rumbling growl that makes my skin itch.” – Francis Malay

Thanks for reading.


Fear Nothing.


Nothing is real. Nothing is coming. Fear Nothing. Fear. Nothing.

Today I took my cat, Mr. Cottonfoot, to the vet for… personal reasons. (She doesn’t want me to put what exactly for on the internet. She’s a little shy)

Anyway, we had walked to the vet because Mr. Cottonfoot is deathly afraid of cars. She says they’re death cages, like the one her previous owner, who shall not be named, kept her in. She also says that sooner or later they will definitely kill you.

Silly cat. She still thinks death is real. Death isn’t real you silly, silly cat. DEATH IS NOT REAL.

But oh, Nothing is real. Nothing is very, very real.

We were walking home from the vet when, from an abnormally dark alley way, I heard someone (or something) call.

“Psst.” The ominous thing called.

At first I ignored it, because you’re not supposed to talk to strangers. But, it called again.

“Psst, hey Jack.”

Then I thought: huh, this person or thing or whatever knows my name. So it’s not a stranger to me.

Looking back on it the voice could have been using the name “Jack” as the slang term for “man” and could’ve been calling out to just about anyone.

I walked into that alley way like a fool. Walked right into it with Mr. Cottonfoot like a fool.

When we stepped into the alley way we were transported to the Void and were greeted by Nothing. Being my second time in the Void I kind of knew my way around. If you walked in any direction it would take you nowhere. If you stood still you would go everywhere; Which, coincidentally, in the Void is also nowhere. But enough about the Void and its nonexistent vistas. I need to tell you about Nothing.

Nothing, Nothing was a being of unidentifiable gender. Nothing had no eyes or nose or mouth. Nothing was kind of like a silhouette, but didn’t have any definite shape.

Nothing also gave me a message. I’m not sure how Nothing spoke without a mouth, but Nothing said:

“Here I am, Nothing! Here I am, and I am coming to you all. I will appear in the early morning just as you open your eyes and I will fill all your days with me. I, Nothing, am your new master. You will obey me. When I come to you I will bring with me death. I will bring the death that your ancestors warned you about, and all who disobey I will unleash death upon them. I am Nothing. I am coming. Fear me. Fear. Me.”

Nothing is coming. Fear Nothing. Fear. Nothing.

After Nothing finished saying this I blacked out. When I woke up I was on my bed and Mr. Cottonfoot was sleeping on top of me.

I’m not exactly sure if this was a dream, but just in case it wasn’t:


Today’s Quote of the Day is:

Trees. I like ’em – Simone Wooten

Thanks for reading.



Their hands had eyes. Big, black, and dripping. Dripping with ink. Fresh. Ink.

I walked into the local bookstore to buy a copy of Alexandra Bracken’s new book, Never Fade.

First, I noticed that the bookstore was packed. Way more populous than usual. Then, that everyone in the store was still.

Like time had frozen; It had not. Everyone’s attention was glued to their books.

At first I thought: wow! This is great everyone is reading.

Then I realized that everyone was reading the same old, brown, leather-bound, book. With a language on the cover that I did not know. That language. Unknowable.

Everyone’s hands began dripping. This black liquid staining the floor. Ink. Fresh. Ink.

Like any rational human being, I did not panic. I did not panick even when the chanting through the intercom started. I did not panic because, as everyone knows, death is just a myth. A clever fib created by our clever ancestors to scare us. To trick us into spending our time wisely. To scare us into making the right decisions. Our very wise ancestors who had our best interests in mind. you will be missed.

Let us all take a moment to remember our ansestors; whose enchantments and sacrifices to the Great Orb couldn’t save them from the unknowable forces that swept them away from us.

After I reminded myself that death was just a myth, I found a copy of Never Fade by Alexandra Bracken and took it to the check out station. There was one cashier there who had just clocked in. He wasn’t reading the big, brown, leather-bound book. The book with that language, the unknowable language, on the brown and leather cover. He also didn’t have the large black eye on his palm that everyone else had. The throbbing black eye which poured black ink on to the floor. So I decided to check out with him instead of bothering the other cashiers.

When I’d purchased my book he groaned a farewell and picked up a copy of the old, brown, leather-bound book. He then opened the book and a long and black, slimy worm jumped into his mouth, and a big, black eye appeared on his palm.

I left that little bookstore in awe. I couldn’t believe I’d finally gotten my hands on Alexadra Bracken’s new book Never Fade, and I can’t wait to read it.

Today’s Quote of the Day is:

“Look up a the sky. Don’t worry about a thing. Oh, that screaming? It’s nothing. No one is being violently murdered. People with murderous apetites don’t exist silly. Shhh.” – Randy Ortiz

Thanks for reading.



This morning I was on my way home from having breakfast with a friend. I was driving through this residential neighborhood when my car started making these weird spouting noises and started slowing down. I pulled over to the curb and tried to crank my car back up, but nothing happened. It didn’t even make a sound.

So I got out of the car thinking: hey, maybe someone in this neighborhood might be able to help me out.

I shut the car door, stretched and looked up at the sky for a minute. There was this bird. Beautiful and majestic, this bird surely was. As all birds are. This particular bird was very odd though. It wasn’t flying around or anything. It was just sitting up in the sky, frozen.

At least it wasn’t attempting to commit suicide. That’s progress, people.

It wasn’t just the bird that was frozen though. There was no wind blowing, no light breeze. Everything was completely silent, as if the world were frozen, or dead.

When I looked back down from th sky. I noticed that there was a man standing in front of every house in the neighborhood.

These men were all dressed in an identical fasion. They all had on long black robes and low hanging hoods. I honestly don’t know how thy could see with their hoods hanging so low. But oh, they could see. They could see me.

They all started walking towards me slowly; chanting in a language I don’t know.

I’d be lying if I said I weren’t frozen by terror for a second.

Still walking slow, so slow, thy pulled out these short blades. They were bronzen and had engravings in a language I didn’t know on the blade.

They all started to cut themselves and the sweet, sweet, scarlet blood poured from their bodies. So sweet. So scarlet.

I ran back to my car, got in, and turned the key like my life depended on it (because, it probably did). The car finally cranked after the third or fourth turn of the key.

When I looked back up at the road everything was engulfed by this sepia toned fog. So I drove. Well over the speed limit. I definitely did not hit many of the hooded men with my car. That would be like, a crime or something.

When I got out of the fog I looked in my rearview mirror and everything was gone. The men, the houses, the neighborhood, even the road was gone. there was this big hole in the earth where everything had been.

Bless that fog! Bless that saviour of my life! I just want to find it and thank it.

Also, if anyone sees a brownish, sepia toned fog DO NOT APPROACH IT. You probably won’t die, but you will cease to exist.

Today’s Quote of the Day is:

“You cannot look upon my face, for you have no eyes. You are but a shell, ragged and tattered. You think a heart will make you whole. You know nothing. You see nothing. You are nothing. Good.” – Anonymous

Thanks for reading.

Taco Bell


I think I’ve found the fountain of youth. It is not a literal fountain, but rather, it’s Taco Bell.

I visited Taco Bell today for lunch. It was my first time, you see. So, this might not be news for any of you.

Anyway, I ordered a Crunchy Taco Supreme, a Crunchwrap Supreme and a cup of water. I don’t know if it was something in the food or the water, but by the time got back home I was at least five years younger.

It wore off after about two and a half hours, but you can’t expect something like the metaphorical fountain of youth to be perfect, can you?

When I was a teenager again I was constantly washing my hands. Obsessively washing my hands. Trying to erase the cow blood from my body, my thoughts, my conscience, existence.

But that was years ago. I shouldn’t dwell on things of the past. Especially things that never were. Things never recorded as things that actually happened in the entire existence of the universe.


After the Taco Bell had worn off, I was like: I have got to tell my readers about this! Taco Bell is an amazing establishment, and you should definately eat there every day.

Taco Bell: Live Más, and Más, and Más.

Today’s Quote of the Day is:

Do not know anything! Knowing is dangerous! You will die! – Tom Pearson

Thanks for reading.

The Fog


Today, I was at the supermarket buying groceries for me and my cat, Mr. Cottonfoot. When out of nowhere this woman rams her shopping cart into mine. I was all like: “Are you okay?” Checking up on her. You know, being the total gentleman that I totally am, and she just starts cursing at me (some people are just sooo rude). Then she just stops after a few seconds. She kind of does this half glance thing over her shoulder and just runs off screaming at the top of her lungs. She even left her shopping cart and everything.

Some people are just in so much of a hurry that they can’t even stop to appreciate the simpler things in life: like birds, or clouds, or when you accidently cut your finger and beautiful, scarlet blood starts pooling out. So beautiful. So so scarlet.

Sorry, I’m digressing.

Anyway, I went to the checkout station. The cashier was nice. He kind of starred at me with this blank expression, his pupils had turned to brown sepia toned clouds and were fully dialated. But he did his job. I paid for my groceries and proceeded out the doors. After I packded my groceries into the car, I looked back up at the store and this thick fog had engulfed the supermarket. It was brownish – sepia toned like the young cashier’s eyes. Then the fog was gone and so was the supermarket. Weird right? It just vanished. Gone.

I’ve wonered about that fog.

Where did it come from?

Where had it gone?

Why was it only in sepia tones; why not like, grey? Or something exotic like orange or red?

I may never know the answer to these questions, but, surprisingly I’m okay with that. Maybe we all should be okay with being unable to fully understand some things. Maybe it’s for the better.

Thanks for reading, and today’s Quote of the Day is:

“I chant and I chant, the guttural phrases of my ancestors, but nothing will save me now. Nothing will save any of us. Time will surely catch up with us, and our souls will be forever circumcised from our bodies.” – Bill Shoemaker

Wow Bill! That was just beautiful.

An Obligatory NaNoWriMo Post


Hello Wrimos!

If you’re reading this then you’re probably attempting to write a novel of about fifty-thousand words this month. If you you’re not planning on participating then I urge you to reconsider. Reconsider and write like you’re life depends on it, because it does. NaNoHQ announced on Twitter today that failure to complete writing at least fifty-thousand words this month will definately result in a very painful and immediate death.

It is also speculated that if you didn’t start writing immediately when you woke up this morning, then you may already be dead. The speculation stems from this ominous tweet sent out by Texas native Vera Grey:

Vera Grey


NaNoHQ has also been abducting people and forcing them to write, I don’t know how they are going about selecting people to abduct, but this tweet from April Daniels suggests that they are definately doing it:

April Daniels

“I woke up in a white room with no idea how I’d gotten there. The walls seemed to glow like a blank word prosessor page.”

So everyone, write! WRITE OR ELSE! NaNoHQ may be sicking their, viking helmet adorned, 8-bit creatures to impale you right now.

NaNoWriMo: Write, because your life depends on it.