All posts filed under: 2010

A Patchwork Companion | A Work in Progress

{ 639 words so far } Just before dusk the man took a break from his work in the basement. He was not hungry, or more specifically, he had no appetite. Instead he opted for a cold beverage from the refrigerator in the kitchen to quench his thirst. Only when he popped the cap off the bottle did he realize that today had been his thirty-first birthday. A lot had happened in his life the past few years; several notable, calamitous events had irrevocably changed his life. He wasn’t sure if he had even acknowledged the arrival and subsequent passing of his twenty-ninth or thirtieth birthdays. His work was that demanding of his attention; his focus was keener these past two years than it had ever been in his life. He’d been motivated by the potency of vengeance. He was anxious to return to his work downstairs, but something stirred inside him—emotion—a sensation that had been alien to him for quite some time. As a sudden wave of nostalgia crashed over him, he found himself …

Project Zero-13 | A Work in Progress

{ 744 words began Jan 7, 2010 } Stirred by the furtive movements of what was likely a rodent of some kind sniffing about in the foliage that surrounded him, the man awoke with a slight disorientation while lying under a bed of leaves, mud and twigs.  Vivid images of the dream he was having still lingered in his mind.  Like most dreams it was not an exact documentary of actual events, although inspired by them.  Instead it deviated from the script, as dreams often did.  A certain degree of surrealism had replaced realism.  Just before he was awakened, he had experienced the dream’s unscripted happy ending which was in direct contrast to the real life events he experienced prior to arriving to these woods to elude capture from his unknown pursuers. The happy ending was that he actually knew more than just his first name; that he knew exactly why he wore the strange costume, that underneath it was not some man that no one knew, and that he had the ability to speak.  …

Short-term Effect | A Work in Progress

{ 452 words began in 2006 } I come back to consciousness with a mouth full of blood and a busted lip the size of Texas. I can’t remember how I got this way. I got a few scrapes and bruises on my face, a knot on my head that’s throbbing. They say ignorance is bliss, and for a few minutes as I sit here in this dark, quiet alley, I think: yeah, short-term memory loss does have its charm. Then I remember: she’s not next to me anymore. Roxy. She’s unforgettable. It doesn’t matter that I’ve taken a few bumps to the head, the face. Dames have a knack for leaving long lasting impressions on a fella. Roxy Star was what she told me to call her. I called her Foxy Roxy not just ‘cause she’s sexy as hell, but because she was sly like one. I’d never known anyone, let alone a little street rogue, who could pick a pocket or pull a short con like Foxy Roxy. She’s the best, at least for …

Gluttony Loves the Lonesome Ones | A Drabble

{ 100 words } She’s gone now, not much I can do about it except sulk.  And eat. Not like I’ve anyone to look handsome for, the only woman who ever truly mattered left me. Now I’ll eat to my heart’s content, get me through the nights. No, she wouldn’t approve if she saw me. “You’ll make yourself sick!” “Keep that up, you won’t fit into your favorite jeans anymore!” “No sane person eats that much ice cream in one night!” Ice cream isn’t only for depressed teenage girls dumped by their transient boyfriends, or neglected wives whose marriages are headed for irreconcilable differences. Written: December 13, 2010. Copyright © 2010 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. brandonrucker.com | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites Amazon | Smashwords

The Shadow People | A Drabble

{ 100 words } I’ve always been able to see them. The Shadow People, I mean. Even when I was a little younger around age five, they would visit me sometimes. But I always see them around town, especially in the countryside. Mommy and Daddy don’t believe me because they never see them. The Shadow People fade away whenever grownups are around. It’s almost like they’re scared of grownups or something. I think it’s because grown folks aren’t believers. The Shadow People don’t want to be around those who don’t acknowledge them. Wouldn’t you want credit for the good things you do for others? Created: November 12, 2010 Rewritten: March 22, 2016 Copyright © 2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. Artwork by tHeSpEcIaLhEaD (Jessica Crokers) and is copyright © 2012-2016. Ruckerpedia | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites brandonrucker.com

The Underneath | A Bizarro Flash of Horror

{ 691 words } Ramsey noticed the mole on his left arm while in the shower earlier that morning, but his mind didn’t quite register what it was through the morning maze of his 6 A.M. mind.  At the time the previous night’s dreams lingered tenuously in his consciousness like intangible, fragmented ghosts. Now, while he sat at his small gray cubicle ready to assume the role of corporate worker ant, he eye-balled the thing.  He observed that it was dark tan in color, round in shape and entirely . . . new.  The mole had not been there last month, nor a week ago, and most certainly not just yesterday. Yet there it sat on the inner side of his forearm halfway between his wrist and elbow. Ramsey looked around the office bullpen to see if anyone was paying him any attention.  Lunch hour had arrived so the office became relatively spare of people, save for the other loners who ate at their desks like he did.  He put his chicken salad sandwich down and …

Shard | A Bloody Micro Fiction

{ 354 words } After she confronts him in the basement, he lunges at her clumsily.  She uses cat-quick reflexes to avoid his attack and he misses.  That imprecision costs him.  She scrambles to the floor, a move that allows her to strike swiftly with a kick to his groin just as he recovers to charge at her again.  Stealthily she prepares to arm herself with the medium-sized broken mirror shard she’d found there in the basement a few days back. She retrieves if from her back pocket to slice forcibly into his Achilles as if it is a mere thin ribbon made of fine silk.  With all her might, she strikes fiercely to cut through the fabric of his clothing.  He screams in agony and lumbers to the floor like a wounded animal shot in the wild, left for dead.  Predator has become prey.  However, her mission, her responsibility is not yet complete. He lay facing the floor in agony, grasping for his wounded foot.  Blood begins to flow from his injured tendon without …

No Sacrifice | Lyrics

It’s no kind of sacrifice If you know what it is you’re gonna loose There’s no one who can make the move For you, no, that’s got to come from you When you take a good look at what’s been done Then you’ll see what it is you need to see If there’s blood on your hands after the deed Well that’s par for the course as you will see. Written in late 2009. Released in January 2010 via I Rock Recordings. Copyright © 2009 brandonrucker.com | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites I Rock Recordings