Mrs. Garrison
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
Because you thought you were special, foolishness presides, the only one to get the message wasn't on the receiving end.
It was stated plainly underneath the halo sunshine in the newspaper's final edition. I picked it up with much confusion on the morning after our ultimate pilgrimage. Looking out to my bare street i winced in pain, thinking to myself, if they realized who lived here, surely there would be a shrine at the curbside. Flowers and messages written in blood ink, tombstones of humanities death fetus.
Before the blue wave hits, the kids all took to the streets to get ahead of the chaos. The smart ones went looking for the last of the good times. Others, like us, went in search of order and survival, in the dust before the world goes dark. Some claimed the last bits of technology they would see or hear was from their creator. Others saw nothing at all.
We raced through the dingy streets dodging all of the trains and bullet winds. We determined that the winner of the race would be the leader of our group. Crackling electricity was struggling to keep generators humming in various power stations as we ran across this ghost town. I was in second place to my best friend until he tripped over some debris blowing down the street. I kept running despite my desire to pick him up and see if he was okay.
Eventually we reached the old schoolhouse which was to be our finish line for the day. Being first to reach the schoolhouse i became the leader of this pack. We busted into the schoolhouse, taking stock of anything and everything we could find that we might need for whatever it was that was coming.
As the rest of the kids assembled inside of a classroom, i went outside to look for my best friend. That is when i saw a giant black bus pull up in front of the school. It was a politician running for office, his name was emblazoned all over the darkened bus. I figured that as the leader of our group i might as well go and meet with him.
Rocks and dirt were swirling around the hazy air when i boarded the bus. The candidate met me at the door, along with his wife, they were surprisingly plain and folksy people. They spoke very down to earth on a level i could appreciate. The candidate bragged about his experience in previous catastrophic events, to include massive storms, wars, etc. He invited me to board the bus with him and have a beverage while we spoke about how things were going to play out, as if he knew the intimate details of a grand master-plan.
I scanned the flier he handed to me, it was full of symbolism, doom, and prophecies. On the back page there was a couple of oddly theatrical slogans. He played for me a video of something you would see from a satellite or a drone. It looked like a video game of destruction, like you used to see on the 24 hour news feed in some faraway shit hole. Now that we all shared the same toilet on the verge of cosmic flush, it had my attention.
Towards the back of the bus and behind closed doors, i could sense and hear the the hissing sounds from impatient serpents. Their shadows slithered underneath the crack in the doorway. I might have began to sweat.....as i took the campaign flier from the candidate and shook his hand while he patted me on the shoulder, wishing me luck.
I took the flier back into the school to the classroom with the other kids, who waited eagerly for my return and direction. Once inside of the room, i told the kids i would make everyone copies of this flier, as it would be our survival guide. As i powered up the copy machine the lights overhead flickered, telling me we were going to lose it all. I set the machine to copy front and back, when a voice over the school intercom told me that each copy i made would cost me, in flesh.
Not knowing where the big voice was coming from, i left the classroom in search of what we used to call a principals office, in case someone was hunkered down in there.
Down the dark hallways i roamed....thinking this could have been so great...if only just for a day.
Double-shot kills. She opened the door and jumped out in front of me, i stopped in shock, she held her son close to her. It turns out she was faculty at this schoolhouse. She spent her days here still...and her nights were sometimes spent at her house next door. To throw off the thieves of the days and the nights.
We made it back to the classroom, where i would introduce her to the group of kids. But they had all vanished without a trace. The copies from the politicians flier were all gone.
She grabbed me by the hand and insisted we must leave the schoolhouse and go to her nearby home and wait...perhaps pray.
Her home was somewhat unassuming on the outside, typical of the mid century era. Although she had apparently given extra thought towards security as a gate separated the street from the driveway and another gate separated the driveway from the sidewalk.
The sky overhead roared with the electricity of clouds bumping against jagged stones. We entered the house and i honestly wasn't expecting much, darkly lit rooms with the occasional candle flickering in the corner. Upon closer inspection i was surprised to see the house was full of artifacts and ancient treasure. She guided me towards the back and out to a patio, where her son would reveal a wardrobe of hooded costumes hanging from a makeshift clothesline strung from the light post and limbs high up in the dead trees.
She hummed softly a mournful song about nothing i would recognize as she made us all a drink in plastic cups, insisting we drink together in a sort of evening ritual to ward off, who knows what. As we drank she spoke in an other-worldly language and lit some candles on the patio table. Incantations to usher in the end of the world dusk, as the wind picked up and blew skeleton wind chimes to the tune of a suicidal bird in a predatory cage. Her pet dog awoke from his awful slumber and began to run around the yard like a man who had stepped outside of the triangle.
Every moment henceforth was the roller coaster you wouldn't want or expect; up and down, highs and lows, until you realize that 3 to 5 minutes, and after it was over you were forced to stand in line again.
She asked me to close the gate(s) so the dog wouldn't get out. I noticed the full moon rising against the setting sun, it was a difficult sight for eyes afraid to close. Smoke was blending with fog as the incantations grew louder. I saw shadows in the absence of light.
She screamed hysterically as she knocked over the patio table. The smoke cleared to reveal a steamy fog and my ears throbbed intensely as the air was filled with a high pitched squeal above the monotone roar. She picked up a large axe from underneath where the table had been and threw it directly at me. Instinctively i ducked as the axe flew directly over my head and stuck into the siding of the back wall. She screamed again and ran to the inside of the house, locking the door behind her.
The dog howled at the skull of a beast hanging on the inside of the back fence. I turned to run towards the front of the house. All of the gates were now closed. I can hear the dog crying out now, in fear and also in pain.
I slipped in some mud in front of the house as i felt the beasts closing in on me. The dark shadows shared their rotation with the beating of my heart. A cold serpent hissed at me as it slithered past..something near the bushes caught my attention.
I stuck a dagger into my head to try and silence the noises echoing around in my skull.
I was dead once before i was born.....and I don't recall much about that time....should it be any different now? I thought it would be better than this.
Every headline needs a heart looking for a spirit to take them beyond the horizons of our mind. Every sin needs a place to call home....and every home needs soul looking to rise in the morning....opening the shades on a new day.
It was stated plainly underneath the halo sunshine in the newspaper's final edition. I picked it up with much confusion on the morning after our ultimate pilgrimage. Looking out to my bare street i winced in pain, thinking to myself, if they realized who lived here, surely there would be a shrine at the curbside. Flowers and messages written in blood ink, tombstones of humanities death fetus.
Before the blue wave hits, the kids all took to the streets to get ahead of the chaos. The smart ones went looking for the last of the good times. Others, like us, went in search of order and survival, in the dust before the world goes dark. Some claimed the last bits of technology they would see or hear was from their creator. Others saw nothing at all.
We raced through the dingy streets dodging all of the trains and bullet winds. We determined that the winner of the race would be the leader of our group. Crackling electricity was struggling to keep generators humming in various power stations as we ran across this ghost town. I was in second place to my best friend until he tripped over some debris blowing down the street. I kept running despite my desire to pick him up and see if he was okay.
Eventually we reached the old schoolhouse which was to be our finish line for the day. Being first to reach the schoolhouse i became the leader of this pack. We busted into the schoolhouse, taking stock of anything and everything we could find that we might need for whatever it was that was coming.
As the rest of the kids assembled inside of a classroom, i went outside to look for my best friend. That is when i saw a giant black bus pull up in front of the school. It was a politician running for office, his name was emblazoned all over the darkened bus. I figured that as the leader of our group i might as well go and meet with him.
Rocks and dirt were swirling around the hazy air when i boarded the bus. The candidate met me at the door, along with his wife, they were surprisingly plain and folksy people. They spoke very down to earth on a level i could appreciate. The candidate bragged about his experience in previous catastrophic events, to include massive storms, wars, etc. He invited me to board the bus with him and have a beverage while we spoke about how things were going to play out, as if he knew the intimate details of a grand master-plan.
I scanned the flier he handed to me, it was full of symbolism, doom, and prophecies. On the back page there was a couple of oddly theatrical slogans. He played for me a video of something you would see from a satellite or a drone. It looked like a video game of destruction, like you used to see on the 24 hour news feed in some faraway shit hole. Now that we all shared the same toilet on the verge of cosmic flush, it had my attention.
Towards the back of the bus and behind closed doors, i could sense and hear the the hissing sounds from impatient serpents. Their shadows slithered underneath the crack in the doorway. I might have began to sweat.....as i took the campaign flier from the candidate and shook his hand while he patted me on the shoulder, wishing me luck.
I took the flier back into the school to the classroom with the other kids, who waited eagerly for my return and direction. Once inside of the room, i told the kids i would make everyone copies of this flier, as it would be our survival guide. As i powered up the copy machine the lights overhead flickered, telling me we were going to lose it all. I set the machine to copy front and back, when a voice over the school intercom told me that each copy i made would cost me, in flesh.
Not knowing where the big voice was coming from, i left the classroom in search of what we used to call a principals office, in case someone was hunkered down in there.
Down the dark hallways i roamed....thinking this could have been so great...if only just for a day.
Double-shot kills. She opened the door and jumped out in front of me, i stopped in shock, she held her son close to her. It turns out she was faculty at this schoolhouse. She spent her days here still...and her nights were sometimes spent at her house next door. To throw off the thieves of the days and the nights.
We made it back to the classroom, where i would introduce her to the group of kids. But they had all vanished without a trace. The copies from the politicians flier were all gone.
She grabbed me by the hand and insisted we must leave the schoolhouse and go to her nearby home and wait...perhaps pray.
Her home was somewhat unassuming on the outside, typical of the mid century era. Although she had apparently given extra thought towards security as a gate separated the street from the driveway and another gate separated the driveway from the sidewalk.
The sky overhead roared with the electricity of clouds bumping against jagged stones. We entered the house and i honestly wasn't expecting much, darkly lit rooms with the occasional candle flickering in the corner. Upon closer inspection i was surprised to see the house was full of artifacts and ancient treasure. She guided me towards the back and out to a patio, where her son would reveal a wardrobe of hooded costumes hanging from a makeshift clothesline strung from the light post and limbs high up in the dead trees.
She hummed softly a mournful song about nothing i would recognize as she made us all a drink in plastic cups, insisting we drink together in a sort of evening ritual to ward off, who knows what. As we drank she spoke in an other-worldly language and lit some candles on the patio table. Incantations to usher in the end of the world dusk, as the wind picked up and blew skeleton wind chimes to the tune of a suicidal bird in a predatory cage. Her pet dog awoke from his awful slumber and began to run around the yard like a man who had stepped outside of the triangle.
Every moment henceforth was the roller coaster you wouldn't want or expect; up and down, highs and lows, until you realize that 3 to 5 minutes, and after it was over you were forced to stand in line again.
She asked me to close the gate(s) so the dog wouldn't get out. I noticed the full moon rising against the setting sun, it was a difficult sight for eyes afraid to close. Smoke was blending with fog as the incantations grew louder. I saw shadows in the absence of light.
She screamed hysterically as she knocked over the patio table. The smoke cleared to reveal a steamy fog and my ears throbbed intensely as the air was filled with a high pitched squeal above the monotone roar. She picked up a large axe from underneath where the table had been and threw it directly at me. Instinctively i ducked as the axe flew directly over my head and stuck into the siding of the back wall. She screamed again and ran to the inside of the house, locking the door behind her.
The dog howled at the skull of a beast hanging on the inside of the back fence. I turned to run towards the front of the house. All of the gates were now closed. I can hear the dog crying out now, in fear and also in pain.
I slipped in some mud in front of the house as i felt the beasts closing in on me. The dark shadows shared their rotation with the beating of my heart. A cold serpent hissed at me as it slithered past..something near the bushes caught my attention.
I stuck a dagger into my head to try and silence the noises echoing around in my skull.
I was dead once before i was born.....and I don't recall much about that time....should it be any different now? I thought it would be better than this.
Every headline needs a heart looking for a spirit to take them beyond the horizons of our mind. Every sin needs a place to call home....and every home needs soul looking to rise in the morning....opening the shades on a new day.
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Please never stop writing! 
