Tag Archives: Death

Little Red Riding Hood

Little Red Riding Hood (by Gloom82)

The awesome illustration by Gloom82… it was love at first sight. Thank you very much for your works, Anton!

– Oh, grandmother, what big pears you have!
– Stop! What is this? What the bullshit did you say?

(The wolf stares at me… Damn! I always fail with accurate quoting!)

– You should say: ‘Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!’

(I nod. My red cap slides down to my nose. But I don’t surrender.)

– Oh, grandmother, what big wands you have!
– Are you jeering at me? Hands! What big hands you have!

(I keep silence and wait. The wolf is looking at my resume.)

– I cannot understand how you coped with your role in ‘The Green Hornet’! Who is your custodian? I should devastate him! I gauge your dramatic talent like the dramatic talent of a fruticose lichen!

– I didn’t have a big role. I was a lame ship’s boy on the ark ‘Young liches’… and a corpse on the skiff in the next scene…

– And what are you doing here?! Why do you think you can cope with this role?

– I believe in myself… My grandmother always said…

(The wolf is almost growling. The wolf is almost ready. The wolf is almost near me…)

– Stop! Stop wasting my time! Get out!

(The wolf is bending over me… and I’m wresting his Adam’s apple.)

– My grandmother always said: ‘For be it my mask, or be it your blood, red will be the last color that you’ll ever see…’

(OMG! I’m a hero! I didn’t make a mistake in this quote!!)

…I come out to the yard. This morning I see gnomes around the adjacent pavilion. ‘Snow White’. I throw away my red cap and put on a white apron.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

a Portrait

‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar…’ I smiled at the portrait on the wall and threw a butt into the ashtray. It was 4.12 pm. Mr.Brainwash was late.

‘It is just the doldrums, my dear… Your artistic flair thrives; you just have to sacrifice some habitual pleasures for the sake of it.’

I would spit in his face but my good education forbids my spitting on portraits, and this ugly daub takes advantage of this fact unscrupulously! Small, funny antics can fill life with wonder…
I was daydreaming about this impudent portrait gliding down to the courtyard and didn’t hear the door creak open.

‘Good afternoon, my dear! Oh… Did you smoke in here? I told you! Don’t do it!’

Wow… He was angry. His halo became dirty-brown with yellow clots. It was really nasty. Mr.Brainwash was yelling, when suddenly I understood that this would be my last seance with him. ‘You have to sacrifice some habitual pleasures for the sake of it…’ To hell with that! I don’t want to give up my pleasures!

The first bullet was for Mr.Brainwash. The second bullet was for his talkative portrait… Sometimes a gun is just a gun!

Do you remember who said that?

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for the grammar corrections and improvements on this essay!

I don’t know

I don’t know
I exist or no.
All my senses turned into white ash.
Many years ago
I refused this show,
Threw away my passions like unneeded trash.

I smashed up all mirrors,
I killed viewers and hearers,
I put my gun under my head instead of cozy pillows.

I don’t know
I’m alive or no.
All my cells encrusted with sediment and rust.
I didn’t mark a foe,
I didn’t forecast a blow.
And now I disremembered about the notion of ‘trust’.

I smashed up all mirrors,
I killed viewers and hearers,
I put my gun under my head instead of cozy pillows.

…When I inhale this purple mist
Dead senses start to dance a twist
And I’m ready to stop my run
And hide my gun.
But zombies here. I hear a snigger.
I must exhale. And pull the trigger…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

a Cuckoo

They call me ‘A Cuckoo’.
Because I always know the right time for death.
I don’t have ESP.
I don’t have a magic mascot or subtle vibes.
I don’t have an affiliation with the ‘Fortune-teller’ Club.
I just know it.
And I’m calm.

They can aggro.
They can say I’m a gory, cruel bird.
I’m a fucking accounting cuckoo.
I’m calm.

One… Two… Three…

They can’t bust out.
I stand on the roof.

Four… Five…

I lift my munition – a bow and arrows with cuckoo’s feathers.
I close my left eye…

Six… Seven…

It’s so easy!
It’s like skeet…

Eight… Nine…

Welcome to hell, loser!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

…adrenaline runs low

cur doesn’t flow through torn wire.
my veins are cold. I lost my fire.
and throbbing love in slow gyre
descends to bottom. descends to nothing.
this cruel game without rules.
I count my uneven pulse.
I just become a needless plaything
just trash

(a chorus)
adrenaline runs low – and heart is dying
and squirming in convulsions in my chest
adrenaline runs low – and sun is crying
and darkness comes to my heart like a guest

I cannot stop this nightly show.
a gutless puppet squirms in throe.
dread voice gives orders calm and slow
so phony. so truly.
incisive waves destroy my space
and heavy fogs erase my face.
I make a last stroke. I make a last sigh. so coolly…

(a chorus)
adrenaline runs low – and heart is dying
and squirming in convulsions in my chest
adrenaline runs low – and sun is crying
and darkness comes to my heart like a guest

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014