Nightmares_Tickle's profile

Charity's head came off the pillow. The all too familiar sight greeted her. He was in the open doorway, light flooded in behind him. She knew Brother Bartholomew's features even though he was cast in shadow. She envisioned the lustful curl of his lip he wore to every visitation. "Good. You're awake," his voice was low, careful not to wake any of the other sleepers in the house. The door closed behind him as his hand found the wall switch. She blinked against the sudden flood of yellowed light...

The Stranger In Dreams William Tooker 1. Starting Over Joe Vesper teetered on the ledge of sleep, just beyond the fingertips of dream. Just before he tipped over the edge he shook it off for the fifth time. Miles of California Route One slid by almost invisible to Joe's weary eyes. Streetlamps ticked by like seconds on the clock but after eighteen hours on the road it had all descended into a blur. Originally, he had intended to make this a two day trip but its purpose being a new beginning i...

This Flesh Eternal 1. Auld Lange Sine Deep down Jane knew that this was the day it all fell apart. She had some sense of it even as she awoke. It nagged at her as she showered. Jane lathered rinsed and repeated while wresting with the sensation that some part of her knew something other parts did not. She did her blonde hair in cascading ringlets and put on her face while the back of her mind nursed the distraction. Even the drive to the office at Veil Social Services was conducted while tryi...

Black Betty By William Tooker 1. AMADEUS “Pardon my knife, but I need your undivided attention. Something is going on in this town and I need you to tell me what. My girlfriend, Eliza, what happened to her…we were over…but…she was a bitch but I never wanted her to die.” Amadeus shrugged. He was some beanpole street kid with greasy curly hair and a nose like a masthead. He wore the uniform like you’d expect: old, ratty, army jacket, soiled jeans with holes in the knees, and disintegrating conv...

Back in My San Francisco days I had a room mate named Dave Spiegl. Dave was a good guy if a bit empty in the head sometimes. He stood about 6 '5 and was missing all but about three teeth. How he lost them was a story that changed every time you asked him so we never really knew the truth for sure. I suspect it was something to do with his cocaine use back in the day. Dave, while a fascinating character, is not the point of this story. This is more of a story about an evening when he was out ...