The Flyaway Colony

When I was growing up, I lived near a cult.

It was what it was, it wasn’t openly talked about but it was gossiped about during Saturday afternoon barbecues and whispered after the church service. Other than, ya know, growing up next to a cult, I lived a pretty down to earth life.

These guys were known as the Flyaway Colony. The leader, Douglas Luther, believed that he was sent by god to lead people to the cause and that one day he’d take them all away by levitating them to heaven like Jesus in the new testament. Yeah, pretty basic crazy cult crap. They lived off the grid for the most part, the followers camped out in tents surrounding this old farm house where they’d eat and worship. You could always tell if you ran into someone in town was apart of the colony- they wore plain brown clothes and smelled kinda ripe. The men always had beards. If one of the women was in town, they’d always have one of the men with them, probably their husbands.

And now that I think back on it, I never saw any of their children. Not once.

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The Fire That Won’t Go Out

The first fires started on Monday and by Saturday we were all evacuated from our homes, told to grab only essentials. And although it was never directly said to us, it’s implied we’re never going back. I’m writing this from my parent’s house in Michigan, far away from the hellscape that was once my home.

My boyfriend Ike, a volunteer firefighter, got called about the first house fire. Typically he doesn’t get called on for this sort of thing but apparently it was a rager. So with a kiss to my cheek and a cheeky reminder to let the cat in tonight, he took off. Meanwhile I settled in for a day off of work, I don’t get them often enough and I wanted to relax.

About noon Ike called me. I was dancing around my room to the Hamilton soundtrack while eating Pringles when the phone went off. I turned off the music and answered.

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Ferrymen to the Afterlife

Once the world wasn’t like this, according to Father Blackburn. Once the world was covered in green grass, tall trees, and beautiful clear skies. Tonight there’s a patch of visible sky. It’s so beautiful. I think if I ever saw a sky that was entirely like that, I wouldn’t be able to comprehend what I was looking at.  

But that changed when humanity destroyed it all.  

Father Blackburn was there. He saw it happen. He might be one of the few people left alive who truly witnessed it. He tells us every Sunday and Thursday about the days of clear skies and plenty of food. Fresh food, not the packages of dried powder that contain our necessary nourishment but have the texture of sand. I’ve always wanted to eat an apple. I can’t explain why, I just see so many pictures of them. My mouth waters at how it must be to taste an apple.  

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Family Reunion

“Is that it?”

Garrett craned his neck forward to get a better view and I suppressed a giggle. “Yes, babe, that’s my parents’ house. What did you expect?”

“When you said you lived in a wooded area, I dunno, pictured creepy cabin, bloody axe on the doorstep…”

I kissed his cheek before gently elbowing his side. “Come on, park the car, I can’t wait to see my mom!”

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It was strange to wake up feeling nothing, when what you felt before being knocked unconscious was the most agony a human being could feel in their lifetime.

My eyes flickered open, blood from the gash on my forehead leaking into my eyes. My gaze focused. I could make out a spiderweb of cracked glass in front of me. The windshield.

Driving home.

Turned around for one second.

Then here I was.

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False Pregnancy

I was pregnant.

The doctor said I was, at least at first. I was so excited. So was Greg. We weren’t planning on kids, but when I skipped a period, I never felt so much joy in my life. Greg proposed on the spot when I told him. We immediately made plans for the nursery and my mother cried because she was too young to be a grandmother, but it was amazing.

Then when we went back to the doctor nearly a month later, I was lied to.

I was told I was never pregnant in the first place.

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Fairytale Wedding

My sister and I… were very different people.

I had what I call ‘giraffe proportions’, gangly, tall. Amy was average height with the whole hourglass figure. I was a social recluse, she was a social butterfly. I’m an asexual lesbian and she told me quite often during our teen years that I was a freak and could never be loved.

Then three years ago she calls me out of the blue to invite me to her wedding.

I’d moved across the country, had a decent living working as a freelance photographer and had just begun to shake off my insecurities when I got the phone call. She’d had been dating her highschool sweetheart on and off again since graduation and he finally got the balls to pop the question. After apologizing for our relationship going dead since I went to California, she offered to fly me back home and even to cover the cost of the hotel room.

I chose to bury the hatchet and asked for the dates.

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The Edge of the Universe

“All right, Karen, you all set up?”

I nodded and slipped on my headset. “I’ll be speaking to a Mr. Markus Bruno, correct?” Wife beater. Murderer. A truly amazing person, I thought sarcastically.

The coordinator, a man with not enough hair on his head, chewed his bottom lip. “Unfortunately, that will not be the case. He committed suicide about twelve hours ago. Got ahold of another inmate’s medication and took the whole bottle. You’ll be speaking with… Grant Byrd?”

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Eating Out

I love going down on women. Feel free to smirk, make jokes at my expense, but I take the utmost pleasure in knowing that while I’m down there, I’m making sure she’s having the best time of her life. Some guys seem to think it’s gross or that it ‘smells like fish’. Clearly they think their balls smell like a rose garden. Here’s a tip: they don’t.

It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, except the guys who seem to kick up the most fuss about it are the ones who expected the girl should be completely onboard with sucking them off. I’m not even going to go into how gross that is. Girls, if you’re dating a dude like that… get the fuck out of that relationship. You can do better.

Sometimes there’s some more unexpected moments though. I mean, not every vagina is the same. They all look a bit different. And again, that’s nothing to kick a fuss up about. But there are situations like last month.

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The Deal

I’m not sure what just happened last weekend. I told the police. I know they don’t believe me. I’m not sure if I believe me.

Cory (my fiance) and I are currently long distance due to work and family issues. My dad’s in a home for people with dementia and I’m the only one who can visit him weekly, while Cory is currently involved in a project at his work three states away. Our relationship lately has been nothing but Skype dates and texts. But for Valentine’s Day we wanted to do something special, so Cory haggled for the weekend free and I booked a decent hotel. Nothing five stars, but enough for us to get some nice time alone.

He showed up Friday and we took off. After we checked in, we had a nice romp in the sheets and watched awful horror movies from his laptop. Overall, pretty great.

It was around midnight when I woke up to someone pounding on the door.

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