Personal Space


"Hey yo Mike, we wanna chat," I hear called from across the park.

I turn to spot Detective Denzel Hardass. I didn't even do anything this time and they took his badge. I don't have to run. There's nothing he can do to me. I'm just going to sit right on this bench and mind my own business. I'm not even going to look at him. Shit, he saw me looking at him. Please don't walk over here. Don't walk over here. Shit, he's walking over here.

If I stare into space, I won't have to acknowledge him. He comes and stands directly in front of me, hands on his hips like some 80s detective. He's just trying to intimidate me. He wants to make me feel like he has all the power. But he doesn't I have power too.

"Could you get your dick out of my face," I ask him. He stood right there so I'd be eye level with his dick. What is wrong with this guy? Always trying to get under everyone's skin.

"My genitals aren't in your face. Besides, if they were, it wouldn't be the first time you had a man's genitals in your face," he says in a childish tone. I'm not letting him get to me.

"This is the first time I've had a man's dick in my face and you're being very hom...homio...homiophobic and you're doing the sexual harassing. Let me enjoy the day please."

"The word is homophobic."

"Whatever, I'm tired of looking at your johnson."

He takes a seat on the bench next to me and places an arm around my shoulder. I hate this guy. One second he's insulting you and the next he's pretending to be your best friend.

"I need to know what you know about this new fellow calling himself Big Boss," he asks in a much friendlier tone.

"Is this a joke? You know I'm out the game. I've gone straight for real. I run a legitimate business," it's the honest truth, not just my truth.

"You do, I'm proud of you. But you still have illegal cable and purchase stolen goods. I'd hate to turn over your suppliers to the police with you as an informant," he grips my shoulder hard with his hand implying a threat.

"Okay, just relax. I don't know much, heard he started at the docks and still hangs out there."

"Thanks for the help and next time try to keep your eyes on me and not the jewels. We're going to be great friends."

"I'm not one of your snitches."

"Bullshit," he says followed by a boisterous laugh.

To Be Continued

Shadow Hunter


"Please let me go," I plead to my attacker. No sound comes from my mouth. I try to yell and I feel the pressure on my vocal cords, still no sound emerges from my pleas.

 Face covered by the shadows, I don't know this man. I never did anything that deserves death. Still he hunts me. I've tried running, but he runs faster than I ever could. I've tried driving and he doesn't seem to follow. But I see his shadow, stalking me down the road. It'll cross in front of me, I'll floor the gas trying to kill it. Instead it vanishes. It's like I'm running from a spirit not a man.

Has the angel of death come to me? Is it the Angel of Death coming to drag me into the pit of despair. An evil spirit coming to torture me until I take my life or it breaks my soul. I don't know how the angel and demon thing works. But I know I see this man everywhere I go.

In front of me he inches closer, still hidden behind the shadows. The cold barrel of the gun presses against the center of my head. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I accept my fate and it seems like ages before it finally comes for me. I don't hear the gun. A bright flash illuminates my world even with my eyes close. I don't feel any pain.

I take a deep breath and awake in my bed again. Staring at the ceiling I feel the wetness on my head. I wipe the cold sweat from my face before rolling from the bed. I walk to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. I stare out into the darkness of my backyard and the shadow man stares back at me. Dressed the same as me this time. I can't see his face but I feel his crooked smile. Slowly he pulls another gun and fires three shots. Again a white flash and no sound.

Once again I awake in my bead. I mirror the movements before, wiping the cold sweat from my face. "Fuck," I mutter, finally hearing a sound. I'm awake for real this time.

Take 5


My hand shakes as I try to put my key into the door. I take a deep breath to steady it. I've walked into this home thousands of times in the last twelve years. This time shouldn't be any different. It should be easier. There's nothing to lose this time. I jam the key into the door and twist the knob walking in. I see my wife sitting on the couch smiling as she watches her favorite show and sips some wine.

"Hey babe, how was the doctor's visit," she says sweetly.

"I fucking hate you," I respond walking past her to pack my bags. This is the last time I'm ever going to step foot in this house. I've wanted to do this for a long time. I just didn't want to be along for the rest of my life. Now I don't have much life left so fuck it, I'd rather be happy in the time I have left.

"What are you talking about you hate me," she screams from the bottom of the stairs, still with a glass of wine in her hand. A fucking drunk half-assed housewife is all she's become in the last few years. Yeah, she lost her job but that was 6 years ago and she hasn't looked for a new one. She could at least cook a decent meal. I ignore her and keep packing.

"Are you going to answer," she calls out again. I ignore her again. I've got my stuff I'm on my way out.

Marching down the stairs I see her standing in front of the door. Arms stretched out blocking me, still with that damn glass of wine. I stand there with my bags. My few possessions waiting for her to move. She'll always cave before me because she doesn't know how to deal with people who disagree with her.

"Why are you leaving," she asks again.

"Because I fucking hate you. You're a drunk. You sit on your ass all day and can't even be bothered to cook or clean. You won't work. You won't take care of the house. You won't have any kids with me. It's like I'm raising an alcoholic daughter. Now please move, I don't have a lot of time left, 5 years if I'm lucky and I'm not wasting anymore of it on you," There's the answer she wanted.

Still she refuses to move. I simply turn and walk through the kitchen. I'll just leave through the back door. I've wanted to do this so many times before. Now I have.

You can download a free copy of my book Phantasmagorical. Also check out some of my work for BlerdsOnline.com or hear me on the Powerbomb Jutsu podcast.

Pocket Knife


"Hey Matt, why do you always carry that pocket knife with you?"

"Oh, my little brother gave it to me when we were kids," Matt responded.

"Why did you brother have a pocket knife," Lenny asked confused.

"I always thought it was cool how the boyscouts all had one, so he stole it from a kid in his class. He gave it to me for my 12th birthday. I hid it from our parents for years," Matt responded with a feint smile.

"You two are weird."
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The Black Widow of Blackport


"Please don't argue. You have to leave right now, you aren't safe here," she spoke the massive man.

"I'm safe wherever you are he responded," speaking clearer than ever before.

He had been walking past her house that night as he always had in the past. The man loved her, but she never returned his love. Still, he longed to be close to her. He would take the long way home at night, just as a reason to pass by her house. Hopefully she would be outside to wave to him. He wouldn't pass her home until after 10PM but he still hoped she would be there.

On this night he heard screaming come from her home. In a panic he kicked through the door and followed the screams. There in the basement he saw her, the woman he had always loved, covered in blood. His heart sank in that moment fearing that she had become a victim of some heinous crime.

When he finally assessed the situation he realized she was the murder in this situation. The basement of her home had been set up as a kill room. She spoke but he didn't listen. Barrels of acid with partly dissolved bodies littered the basement. How long had she been killing? Is this why the men she dated seemed to vanish without a trace? He was unsure of what to think.

"I still love you," he told her. He wasn't lying. He had loved her since second grade.

"You aren't safe loving me. I'm a monster. It's best you leave here and never return."

"You love me too. That's why I'm not in one of these barrels," he said moving closer to the danger.

"Don't come closer," she shouted out.

He stepped closer still. She lunged at him with the knife, slashing across his chest. Still he didn't flinch. He accepted the pain as her way of saying she loved him too. She could have stabbed him in the heart if she wanted. Instead only a slight cut.

"I love you," he said wrapping her in his arms.

"I love you too," she said dropping the knife and embracing him as he finally dreamed.

"Help me," the man who was previously being tortured forced from his lips.

"Shut up," the monster of a man responded. Snatching the bloody man from the table by his legs. He dunked the man in a vat of acid until he stopped struggling. He released the body and let it settle into the barrel.

"Oh, I love you," she said planting a kiss on her new lover's cheek.

Read more about this couple
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The Blackport Butcher


"Don't open the door!" she yells out.

By that time it is too late. The door was already opened. Standing before them was Blackport Butcher. A serial killer who had been ravaging the city with his brutal crimes. There he stood covered in the blood of the strange woman they had just let in. A bloody bat gripped firmly in his hand. There was no mask like the reports had stated. How would the reports have factual information when there were no survivors or witnesses?

Instead he stood tall, almost seven feet tall. He was a monster of a man, pure muscle it seemed. How nobody had witnessed this shirtless bear of a man murder 13 people is another mystery. Mud was caked on his boots despite no rain in the last two weeks. The frightening part was not his murder attire, his muscle mass or anything else. It was the beady eyes that had no life in them as if this man had died years ago. Despite that they burned with an intensity of Satan.

The Butcher tosses aside the man who opened the cabin door as if he weighed nothing. Slamming the door behind him The Butcher heads straight for the woman. The men attempt to stop him and he only tosses them aside, unconcerned about any damage they can do to him he only focuses on his goal.He lifts the bat to finish the murder he started earlier that night. Instead he's met with a back full of birdshot from a shotgun held by another man.

The butcher abandons the woman for the moment and turns to the man who shot him. The first swing of the bat knocks the gun from his hands before he can fire. Shocked he stood there thinking a silent prayer before meeting his fate. The second swing shattered his ribs and dropped him to the floor. It wasn't long until The Butcher had finished him. Six swings in total.

He turned to the other men who had huddled in a corner, afraid for their lives. 14 swings and they had retired from this life. Turning to the woman The Butcher smiles and opens his arms wide for a hug. The look of terror leaves the woman's face and is replaced with a smile. She rushes forward and kisses The Butcher ignoring his request for a hug. The Blackport Butcher is not a man. The Blackport Butcher is a duo.

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Enough For Today


"Don't tell me you're about to get signed," he yells at her furiously in a crowded restaurant. He doesn't care who is listening anymore. Previously they spoke in hushed whispers. It was obvious he had planned to break up with her from the moment he walked in. The air surrounding him was anxious and he wanted a hard drink at three in the afternoon. When she walked in the color drained from his face.

They're complete opposites. He's dressed in business casual looking like he's just here for a lunch break from some white color job. On the other hand, she is completely out of his league. Well dressed in a beautiful cocktail dress more suited for a fancy ball. A matching purse and shoes that had to cost a pretty penny. She walks with a level of confidence that draws attention to her.

"Calm down, you're making a scene," she says, almost uninterested in what the man has to say.

"I always knew you loved to show off but this is too much," he continues.

"Look, when I get signed, I'll put out an album and pay you back ten fold," she says as if she believes it.

"Blah blah blah that's how you sound right now. You'll never pay me back. you can drop the fake facade like you're some star. You're just a nobody like the rest of us," he says taking a seat.

"Well can I just say something," she starts almost shocked by his boldness here.

"No, that's enough for today," he says standing back up and walking away this time.

She sits there still confused by the whole thing. She doesn't realize what just happened and seems to be looking around as if this is all part of some kind of joke. This has never happened to her before and for the first time she feels unsure as if she really loved this man. He's the first to stand up to her and not just do whatever she said.

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Foreclosure


"How much for the TV," someone calls out from the living room as I collect the money for the lamps.

"What do you think it's worth," I ask eager to make a sale.

"I'll give you $50 for it," he says trying to low ball me.

"I need at least $100 for it. You know it's worth more than that," just gotta set my price and if he can't accept it then that's it.

"Alright, fine," he says handing me the money before removing the TV from the wall.

Who does this? Sells the things from their home just to keep the home? I don't even like the house but if I can't make the payment before the 1st then it's a wrap for me. I'm fucked if I don't do this. I just gotta get the money. If I can make that payment then I can make it to next month. I just need a little bit of money so I can buy time. If I can buy time I can make it. I just need the time first.

I'm lying to myself. I don't really have a plan but I keep telling myself I have a plan. I bought this house thinking I would have other people helping me. In the end they all bailed so it's just me now. I should have trusted my heart.

With the TV I'm still about $600 short of what I need. I've heard of people throwing parties and charging admission to get in like a nightclub but I don't have the money to spend on party favors. Fuck. I wonder how much I could make from renting out a room for a few days. Well I can't really rent out a room, I've sold half my furniture. Fuck, why don't I ever think this through.

I've gotta call my cousin. I don't want to, but I know he'll lend me the money. He's always thought he was better than me, but this will give him the joy he's always been seeking. There's no other way I can do this. None of this is my fault anyway. I didn't know my roommates would bail out. I didn't know the government would be shut down for three months. Who could predict that? I've got a new job but I won't get my first check until the 8th. The bank says they've already given me enough time.

"Everyone, get the hell out of my house," I start yelling out. I'm done with this. I'll just call and borrow the money. I've tried to make it through without borrowing money but it can't be done so fuck it. I'm not selling anything else. I'll call my cousin and whatever happens after that just happens.

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