undeadbovine

As Lily and her dad drove down a winding dirt road cut into the green Irish countryside, all Lily could think of was the fact that she was missing her graduation.   She should have been with her friends, crowded into cheap plastic seats on the grass of the football field. Her best friend Gina would have taken a picture of her as she got her diploma and texted it to her. Lily would have done the same.   Instead, she was receiving Gina’s pictures as the beat up rental Jeep bounced up and down the narrow road. Her phone chirped to signal another smiling picture of Gina and the others, all crowded close, holding up their diplomas as keys to

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Mary’s voice sounded distant as I bent down to pick up the shards of the porcelain cat that her elbow had crashed into. That cat had been Helen’s favorite—second favorite? Third favorite? It had been Helen’s, of this much I was sure. The head was missing now, somewhere under the stack of newspapers in the corner. When I reached for the paw, the porcelain caught on my finger; the cat was lashing out at me. Blood—dark red on the grimy floor and bright red on the white of Helen’s cat—mingled with the bottle tops and twist-ties that were littered about. “O

On Monday, he killed a spider. He scraped its guts off the bottom of his shoe before reluctantly putting it back on and shuddering. He knew it was just paranoia - he’d used the outside of the shoe after all - but he could still feel the tiny legs as if they were scampering over his foot. His cat Socrates distracted him from the ghostly sensation, meowing for the half open tin of food that was still sitting on the kitchen counter. Reaching down with a smile, he pet Socrates and forgot about the spider. --- He rolled out of bed on Tuesday, the sheets tossed around him in an attempt to cool down during the warm summer night. Half asleep