Words Have Teeth


This is the work of Charles Delucie.  Words are tools used to build roads.  My attempt is to carry my reader to the place in my head.  Sometimes the work is fantastic, sometimes not, but it will usually be fiction.  Visceral is the quality I work towards, and the physical sensation that I would love to give my readers.  Please feel free to comment openly about the pieces, but most of all, get your feet on the pavement and travel.

Expectations in the Dark – The Last Good Thing (update)


old-woman-praying1

She had always expected grandchildren.  She had expected, even as a young girl, to live deep into her twilight surrounded by chittering, smiling faces.  Even before she had thought of having children or even knew what that meant, she had expected grandchildren.  She had expected full tables at thanksgiving and long lists of names at Christmas.

She could always see it so vividly.

Sitting next to a man who would have looked remarkably like a potato that lay in the cupboard too long whose skin had gone loose as the inside had lessened with time.  She would have borne the years with more grace and would have had tight skin that shone like a mirror as it stretched across her forehead.  She had expected to buy him little sweaters that he would have worn as he sat in front of a typewriter, or sat in his favorite chair reading the paper or a book that he loved.  The sweaters would have always been soft against her face when he hugged her unexpectedly in the middle of a frigid morning. Continue reading

Expectations In The Dark


 

            old-woman-praying1She had always expected grandchildren.  She had expected, even as a young girl, to live deep into her twilight surrounded by chittering, smiling faces.  Even before she had thought of having children or even knew what that meant, she had expected grandchildren.  She had expected full tables at thanksgiving and long lists of names at Christmas.

She could always see it so vividly.

Sitting next to a man who would have looked remarkably like a potato whose skin had gone loose after too long in a cupboard.  She would have borne the years with more grace and would have had tight skin that shone like a mirror as it stretched across her forehead.  She had expected to buy him little sweaters that he would have worn as he sat in front of a typewriter, or sat in his favorite chair reading the paper or a book that he loved.  The sweaters would have always been soft against her face when he hugged her unexpectedly in the middle of a frigid morning.  Continue reading

Helios 12 – Second Draft


sun

            She lay there in the dark chill of her bunk and tried to ignore the grating beep of her alarm.  It had pulled her out of the deep dark hole of sleep a few minutes before but she always hated that damned sound.  It might have had something to do with the fact that she slept so much better out here.  No traffic noise, no birds to wake her, no sun coming up and invading her room through her windows.  The sun was always up out here, but it only came in when she wanted it too. Continue reading

Haunting – Velvet Verbosity 100 word prompt


peepI feel childish.

Awkwardly haunting her back garden in the wee hours of the morning.  Peeking through the curtains in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of glistening pink skin.

She knows I’m there.  She loves that I’m there.  It excites her.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

The neck-broken tulips under my feet will serve as evidence later.  They will say that I stomped on their corpses in anticipation.  The delicate yellow heads crushed and battered.  They deserve the same chalk halo.

She loved me in the end.  Throat wrapped in precious silk.  She loved me.

Word Count: 99

So I’m not quite sure I like the way this turned out, but it is what it is.  

http://www.velvetverbosity.com/2013/07/09/100-words-339/

Trifecta Prompt – Crude – (warning – violent content)


So it’s been a little while since I’ve written anything.  A lot of stuff going on and I was honestly just a bit of a breather over the summer.  Let’s get back to it shall we.  

6036meat_chunk

I watched them hack him into pieces that no longer looked like they came from a human and shove them into their mouths.  Their tools were crude misshapen gouges of nearly black iron, and I knew by the grunts that accompanied their thrashing blows that they were not sharp.  The jagged metal was tearing more than it was slicing. Continue reading