At some point, I’ll write about Disneyland and how much I hated it and the demon blister it unleashed upon my left foot, the subsequent lancing with a fucking Goofy pin, and the four fucking hour wait to see Anna and Elsa, but I’m still pretty pissed off about the whole ordeal, so not today.
Instead, a sneak peak from Emperor of the Dark, chapter 5: Static:
“How come you don’t sleep in your room anymore?”
Because it won’t stop touching me.
“I fell asleep watching TV.”
A lie; she didn’t watch TV anymore.
Not since it started watching back.
“We can put one in your room, if you want.”
But I don’t want, Mother.
Her fingers picked and pried at each other. “No room for a TV in there.”
Too many hands.
“Well, a flat screen –”
Will make holes in the walls.
Tiny little escape routes.
Watching as the fingers picked and pried at her.
“No! I mean. No. No, thank you. It’s okay.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
“Are you sure?”
It was settled.
Her room had a 40-inch flat screen installed by the end of the week.
One big black eye hanging off the wall.
At night, the static came.
It made her itch, raking her skin with a sandpaper tongue while the hands held her down, fingers like teeth, teeth like needles, injecting
Static crackled beneath her skin.
Click, click, click, the channel changed, and she was gone.
Rough draft central, but shit. At least I’m finally working on it.
I think I’ll go clean the kitchen instead.