Road Kill_slightly revised.

This is a 4-page short I wrote a few nights back. After receiving some good constructive advice, a few changes have been made. Check it out.

Road Kill


VIC reflects on life while lying on the side of the road. does fine work!

Please disregard the beard, nappy hair and jagged nails in dire need of a manicure. However, please regard the fabulous (yes I said fabulous) new business card, designed by yours truly. This new sleek 1.75″ by 3.5″ slim business card was printed using the services at Check em out!

Photo on 1-13-15 at 3.25 PM

Photo on 1-13-15 at 3.23 PM

The Last Shift

-The Last Shift-

“Just a few hours left,” I repeat to myself in a low airy whisper. The excitement for what lay ahead wrestles with the evil nebulous figure tirelessly yanking at the bulging disk in my spine. I’m a full-time associate at an office supply retail store. In essence I’m a psychiatrist riddled with varicose veins, feining for a desk chair while happily counseling whatever dilemma you may have for a pittance.   My place of business is sort of like a public library – but then again it’s really not. While a library and an office supply store share many similarities, one being that they are both equipped with sliding glass doors able to open extremely wide for the most bizarre human beings on the planet – what makes a retail store inherently different is that tiresome little two word phrase every current, past and future retail employee – loves, loved and will come to love called, customer service. Sigh…
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-Untitled excerpt-

A watery fluid slowly filled around the cusps of her eyes like cold seawater rising behind old round copper rimmed windows of a sinking ship. I glanced to my right, not once taking my peripheral vision away from the dark, slippery road that snaked left and right like a serpent preying through brush. Time had burrowed wrinkles like rivers deep into her forehead and cheeks. I took a second glance and noticed long creased channels filling quickly with a watery fluid that I imagined tasted like table salt. I wanted to lean over and kiss her on the side of her swollen dark rimmed eyes. Not seductively, but comprehendingly. Within the taste of her tears I would sense the flavor of her heartache. And perhaps gain a better understanding of a stronghold that has created an aggregate lump of sadness. A sadness that sits in your throat, causing dysphagia – choking generations upon generations of families with truly good intentions.

“I’ll tell ya,” spoke my mother in a soft murmur as if releasing her final words. “I’ll tell ya.” No three words were more befitting for what preluded that moment. And that’s all she uttered. Through winding roads amongst the darkest of woodland – I navigated us home in silence.

Written by Ade` Craig