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Artie Tobi Margrave

 

Drabbles

Here's To Waking

When I woke up this morning, I was frozen, rigid. Not that I could not move. I was caught in something's embrace, something warm and hairy, and my waking awareness was groggy at best.

The thing that wrapped tightly around me was filled with ugly wrinkles. With its deep, blood-red countenance, engulfing length and millions of tattered cilia, it kept me in bondage, pinned on my back, helpless.

Then the tantalising aroma of seasoned chicken stew wafted into the room and filled my nose, waking me up completely.

I cast my bedsheet aside and hurriedly made for the kitchen.


Undeath In A Cup

I look at the viscous, red liquid in the teacup gripped in my whitened hands. There’s nothing wrong with it, except that it is blood, and the body I obtained it from is lying face down beside me. Dead. Rotting. There’s a gaping hole in the back of the body’s head, courtesy of the semiautomatic on my lap.

Multiple vibrant cries boom outside my sanctuary. They reek of the death they’re made from.

Living in this world is impossible. I’ve tried many means to end my life to no avail. This way however…

I raise the cup to my lips.