Surfer On The Drift

From today:

He put the left hand of the two-headed body up to his mouth, his almost always wet puckered mouth.  He looked like a confused old man, trying to ferret out the hard-to-read handwriting on a self-composed grocery list.

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

Did you ever direct an active spray nozzle towards something on the ground?  A cricket?  A beetle?  A little brother?  Something innocently minding its own business?

Surfer On The Drift

From today -

That sound I used to make, going after my infected skin, the hellbent rubbing of reddenned flesh, that was the sound coming from the four structures before me.  Amplified a thousand times.  

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

Then she smiled.  It was as sweet of a smile as Dawn could muster, and almost always a harbinger of doom. 

Dawn (Exit The Skin Palace)

Dawn, the former alcoholic Santa's helper, now boy ghost 'Yoda.'

Courtesy the ridiculously talented Jenny Dayton.

Surfer On The Drift

From today -

Since I'd died, Mom had acquired a gray streak in her hair.  The rest of her looked more or less the same. Dad looked a lot older.  His hairline had receded.  His muscle density had lessened, decayed, and he seemed jumpy.  Any sound outside drew him to the window or to the door, squinting, looking out like some sort of threat assembled on every moment, come to collect his defenseless baby girl.

Surfer On The Drift (sequel to Exit The Skin Palace)

From today:

Up in the pale brown sky above, the floaters had ceased their interminable circling of the drain.  Dawn counted off in her head, one-potato, two-potato, three-potato...