The Oddities

To whom ever receives this:

This, friend, is my last night alive on this plane of existence. I have heard through the rustling of the leaves, the susurrus of the night, that I will not escape my plight. They speak to me every night, the Oddities. The men, the women, and the children of the night speak to me and tell me they will abduct me and devour my entire entity. These whispers, these faint stabs at my sanity have driven me to record this.

Please do not take these words lightly. For weeks they have gotten louder and louder. The voices have gotten closer and with each passing hour of the night I swear I can hear them running through my room. Running up my walls. Slamming my floorboards and scratching at my windows. Why, one night I even saw one. I SAW ONE! It ran past my window, a child, it had to be. It’s little black body climbed up my wall in my pitch black room. I heard and tracked its breathing until it crossed the light the moon cast upon my floor. As it entered the light it stopped and stood to its feet. What was once a crawling mass of what I believed to be flesh, rose to an immense height, stretching all the way to my ceiling! A considerable jump, if I do say–

Forgive me. I heard them. They spoke my name. They are calling for me to come outside… I won’t go. I won’t I cannot I have to finish. The little thing GREW to at least 15 feet and from it sprouted what looked like flowers and stems and roots and branches. It whispered for me to accept my fate and walk outside. I screamed at it. I screamed a shrill of an insane, tormented soul. It immediately shrunk down and crashed out my window. I swear I experienced this. I swear, I swear I swear I swear I swear I swear.

Forgive me. I must. Compose. Myself.

God, I hear them louder… A bigger one, on my rooftop. Knocking. Knocking. They know I hate the knocks. I hear creaks all throughout my home now. A harmonious melody that is fit only for a circus. I am beginning to reek, I cannot leave my house. The trees, I haven’t spoken about the trees! They are moving. They have moved ever so close to my house. Not over the decades I’ve lived here, no no no no no no nonononononono. Over the past WEEK they HAVE MOVED over. They have uprooted and now stand in front of my house. I used to be able to see the hilltop where I used to play as a child, but now the oak I used to play in fills my entire window. Am I going insane…


They are inside now. I felt a dramatic drop of temperature, they trespassed through my front door. MINE. The knocking, knick knocking, blick blocking. They are inside. I can’t take this, I cannot. I feel another scream surmounting inside. I want to give up. But I have heart. Hearth. Hearth….

I had to move, ever, so, cleverly, cautiously, connivingly into the bathroom. My last stand. It would be the shitter, yes.. Yes yes yes, it would be yesyes yes. I have so much to do and yet. No time, in which to, do it, in. They broke a glass down stairs and are scratching at my bedroom door.. The knocking followed me into the bathroom. I guess he heard me moving.


How peculiar.. Could that be?

This new sound they have emitted. They are… laughing.?

My bedroom door has been busted down. The laughing has turned to screaming. They are screaming and laughing and whispering and talking and breathing and knocking and coming. They scream like men.

Maybe I’m screaming.

This is it. I will leave it at this. This is the end. This is the conclusion. This is my last breath. I will not kill myself. I will not. My finger is on the trigger, but for them not me. Not me. Please not me. Please not me, not me, not me, for them, for them, for them not me, for me. For me.

They are sending some kind of insect inside. They stink terribly, but won’t approach me… I wonder why… Why do I even wonder, I wonder.. I am done.

They are breathing under the door. They are playing with the knob. I should probably hide in the shower, but what difference will that–



You are water to my oil,


Soap to my grease.

You are my own web, and I

As the spider,

am caught in my own strangle.

I am a flame flickering and waning in your forceful wind.

I am a cat, and you are my unopened bag of catnip atop the fridge.

You are curdled milk in my last bowl of cereal.

You are my last breath and I am an asthmatic,

I fail to catch you.

You are boredom on my birthday

and a wine cooler outside my rehab center.

You are summer weather on a supposed snow day

and a comedian downplaying my funeral.

You are as useless to me as a winter coat during a midday heatwave in the Mojave


Sometimes, I wonder why I keep you around.

Plant Man Excerpt 2/2012

“No! Please!”

The Man drags Andre slowly down a hall by his feet. Andre tries to wriggle away and free himself, but the binds around him are too tight, constricting any movement. The python-like hold seems to burn and dig further into his skin with each breath of air he sucks in.

“Jesus No! Please STOP! Don’t put me away man, please!” He cries to the stonewall of a Man dragging him.

As the Man drags Andre further down the dank hallway, the pungent smell of piss and human musk fill his nostrils and make him gag. With each step the walls seem to close tighter. Andre can do nothing but scream helplessly as he is manhandled down the darkening hall. Though he still attempts trying to free himself, he feels his fate is already sealed. A fate, he fears, that is worse than death.

The Man finally comes to a stop as he turns to the wall on his right. He fishes in his front apron pocket for keys to a door that Andre cannot see because of the dark environment. A faint whisper tickles the now silent Andre as he tries scanning his surroundings unsuccessfully.

“…south city…” the voice whispers.

Andre gasps in shock; his heartbeat now pumping loudly in his head.

“No! No, no, no, no NO! Please don’t!” Andre begs the Man. “Don’t leave me here! GOD PLEASE! SOMEONE PLEASE!”

The Man, unflinchingly, pulls out a set of hundreds of keys and shoves it into the door and opens it. The air from the hallway seems to vacuum into the cold black room. The Man lifts Andre from the back by his constraint harness and releases his arms.

As soon as his arms are free Andre ferociously sends his elbow back and plows his captor in the face. The impact sends Andre’s forearm out of socket and he cries out in pain. The Man tosses Andre into the room and shuts the door and locks it.

Andre struggles to set his forearm back into place, but he can barely handle the pain. Each movement sends a fiery pain through the whole upper right side of his body. When he finally does set it in place he throws up, his stomach upset from the agony of pain. When he finishes he sits up, holding his arm, and tries to scoot back until he reaches the wall. He peers into the pitch-blackness of the room, his eyes enveloping all the dark, searching for even a glimmer of light. He slides back for a few feet, then a few feet more.

“I’m disoriented because I was tossed in here, not any other reason.. none…” He says to himself, still sliding back knowing (hoping) to touch his back against the wall he knew (thought?) was there.

“You need help, yes?” A voice whispers from the right.

Andre, shocked, looks to the right.

“What the fuck? Who’s there!?” He asks shaking, backing to the left now.

No response.

Andre’s heart begins to beat hard again. His stomach turns over in knots.

“Cuzzo, where you been, man?” A voice slithers from the left.

Andre turns to look as another voice cuts through the darkness.

“It’s about time.” The new voice says heavily, “alone time with Andreee is the best time.”

Tears begin to drip slowly from his face. Another voice whispers from the darkness. Calling his name. Begging for something. Andre shakes his head in disbelief. His eyes widen, trying to catch anything from the abyss of black that he’s staring intently into. The quiet voice whispers again, to which he cocks his head to hear.

“…release. You must trust us. You can end this now.”

He shakes his head more and tries to get to his feet, but as he rises pain shoots through his arm again and he falls to his back. As he lifts his head back up he can hear another whisper.

“You forgot about us? South City. You. Forgot. Dear Andre.”

“You’re NOT FUCKING REAL!” Andre yelps. “NO! Get out of my fucking head! GO AWAY!”

“Not real?” a voice whispers. Followed by numerous other voices repeating the question.

“Please Stop! PLEASE!” He begs.

Andre begins to feel heavy. His breathing becomes labored and panic sets into his body. He closes his eyes tight, preparing for what he believed was death.

“Just let me die…” Andre thinks.

“Never. Boy. We have a job to do. ACCEPT US!” the voices retort in unison.

The pressure of the darkness pushes even harder onto Andre. His labored breathing becomes faster as he tries to catch his fleeting breath.

“You need to assimilate with us. Escape!” The voice urges.

More tears stream down the frightened young man’s face as he lays in a sea of unending voices.