grimdark

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I heard lifeless singing and waited to see if it was a birthday song or a death song.

Lionel Screwit is a travelling detective, employed by World History.

It was pitch dark, save for the light pouring in from the streetlamp in the frigid tundra outside.

Corporate-sponsored astronauts are about to touch down in the parking lot of Burger King.

The welk crunched my memory in the loggerhead’s neck.

The dimly lit figure raised its arm, holding an iron shaft, and Collin shot him twice.

He talks to no one.

I drove slowly down the dirt road in my girlfriend’s mother’s jeep on one spare tire now, worry thoughts flooding my mind.

I collect my tears in mason jars akin to those that catch the leaks of rain from my window sill.

I’ll put you
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