Abacus Jones: Soulless Cowboy in,

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Madness can be a dammed thing.  Hard to make folk understand when they aren’t the ones stricken by it.  But if I could offer an attempt, it’s sort of like that little kid that just keeps saying your name and never stops saying it and never lets up no matter how many times you ask him to stop.  If you get louder he gets louder until the both of you are just shouting at each other and of course the kid wins.  Because they have no reason to stop.  And there ain’t a damn thing you can do to stop it.  Continue reading

Abacus Jones: Soulless Cowboy in,

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I weren’t happy about things as they were, to say the least.

Angel had taken my eye.  My good one.  I think.  It was hard to say without a gun in my hand.  The world seemed smaller on account of it no matter how much land still laid out before us on this damned journey.  There was still at least a good day’s travel to the mountain we’d been heading towards the past two days, and the closer we got to it, the more my blood seemed to be boiling inside of me.  Even if I hadn’t known where we were heading on account of a light that only my eyes could see rising like a beacon from the top of that mountain, the fever that was welling up in me would have told me the same.  As if darkness could emit such blinding light that it made me all kinds of ill.  Something was happening to me, and I didn’t like it. Continue reading

Abacus Jones: Soulless Cowboy in,

part 22

I found myself in the dark place again, standing and staring into nothingness.

“Here again?  Already?” Came the voice from behind me, the voice of the boy that claimed to be my son.

             “Last place I want to be, believe me. “ I responded as I turned to face him again.

             “Surprisingly you aren’t dead, you know.” Continue reading

Topic : Quicksand by Patrick Pugh

 A little overview of what’s going on here.  We’ve started a Write Club Spokane sort of thing.  We choose topics and write a short story about them.  Currently it’s Andrew, Patrick, Matt, and a new member, Eva.  That said, here’s an entry.-

The name Harold Maulley is likely one you are not familiar with.  It is my hope that after reading this you will go and purchase, download on Kindle, or obtain by whatever means necessary, his only novel Quicksand.  I had recently been at a friend’s apartment, an apartment in the downtown area of Portland, Oregon, seated above a bar and a pizza house, to which I joked to my friend that he wouldn’t often have to leave his comfortable niche.  His response was a curious look and a more serious response than I believe it necessitated when he said “Of course.”  This was directed at me in much a way as to pinpoint my idiotic comment.  As if these two elements were the only reason that he chose this happy domicile.  Continue reading

Abacus Jones, Soulless Cowboy in:

My vision blurred as the world fell down around me and everything was black and still.  There was no more screaming, no more pain, only the silence and darkness.  But there was still me.  At least, I think it was me, at the center of all of it, as if all the darkness and quiet were a room I was stuck in. Continue reading