This Takes Too Long To Type

Friday Mourning

David Recksiek — Fri, 03 Dec 2021 18:20:48 +0000

Wake up in mourning
Exhaustion collapses you
Sleep – your only rest

Last Thursday

David Recksiek — Thu, 25 Nov 2021 23:07:00 +0000

They greedily gobble until they are full. The meat satisfies the ritual and their wakefulness culls. Yet, soon enough, more eating as their satiation tide ebbs. The gravy, sauce of cranberry the meat and the bread. The sandwich is the staple of Thanksgiving Day lore. Just ignore the carcass of the bird that gobbles no more.

…

haibun

Invasion

David Recksiek — Mon, 15 Nov 2021 19:59:00 +0000

Ebullient earth rose from beneath the cathedral’s easternmost awning swallowing whole a Juniper bud, four innocent lady bugs, and an unhappy Dachshund named Paul who threw himself in. “Dachshunds are always killing themselves” thought one of the diggers. The soil boiled forward – swelling with each passing moment – feverous chants from beneath the surface grow louder. In English it sounded like squeaky shouts of “HARAMBE!” The translation: “Death to those who interfere with their end.” Sadly, the mole hoard didn’t understand the world above (all 1208 tails of it) and Doug the maintenance man obliterated the coup-de-grâce with a shovel.

…

Drabble (fiction 100 words maximum)

Bombed

David Recksiek — Mon, 15 Nov 2021 07:59:00 +0000

You told us to dine
here at our shallow grave home
but the recompense a mere place-setting to feast
on the grief dropped from your drone.

…

tanka

Communion

David Recksiek — Sun, 14 Nov 2021 09:09:00 +0000

You spill on my lips
I drink you down with a kiss
standing from my knees
your love will not ever leave
you are so deep inside me

…

tanka

Stroke of Genius

David Recksiek — Tue, 09 Nov 2021 20:19:18 +0000

I thwear zu got orr whateh-er, za smehll ah burn toas-t. I ‘as havine a hones-t zu got stroa-k an ih mae me sink of Saur-day mornine car-too-nes. Saur-day mornines were ahways crea-m of weet wif but-ter an toas-t. Za crea-m ah weet wood sor-t ah jell uh-p an you cood fpush za mussh wif your toas-t. Mah-m and Da-d were wor-king an I ha-d za house zo myselef, no-bod-y zo both-er me. I lik-ed tha ver-y musch. I coo-ld watsh my Saurday car-toon-es in peas. I gue-ss ha-ing a stro-ke wasn all ba-d. Ex-cept the par-t where it too-k three year-s before I got the operation to rewire my brain. They got this new implant for vegetable types like me. It “hugs” the brain they told me. It’s supposed to induce more chemical neurotransmitters so my brain works like it did before. But I guess it worked a little too well because now I can speak like…I don’t know seven different languages and counting. They say it won’t last – or at least they’re hoping it doesn’t. Their hope is that eventually I’ll end up like that guy in that book. You know, the… the one with the mouse? But as of now, I have full function of my body and I can even coax things to me. It scared the piss out of me the first time. I was laying in the hospital bed and

1. Was completely shocked that I could move my right arm at all.

2. That when I reached for the glass of water that it shot into my hand like it was on a rubber band.

I was in the hospital for weeks and they took really good care of me first, but after the first couple of days – you know how it is – these doctors and nurses are always under foot like toddlers with needles. This poor doctor stuck me with a needle and missed the vein – instead of pulling it out and trying again, he starts digging in my arm to find the juice. I didn’t mean for that happen. Honestly, it was a reaction when I Force pushed him through the two-way mirror. God, those people were surprised. I wasn’t, though. Within about half-hour an after I woke up I knew they were watching me. The good news for the doc was that he was already in the hospital – no ambulance co-pay and he learned to let the nurses give the shots.

I’ve learned to do a lot of stuff, too. With this new “gift” I can take cups of water, I can give cups of water, I can take your guns, I can give you your bullets back. I can do a lot of stuff. Right now I’m thinking I’ll keep learning and advancing and defining new initiatives that will continue to sustain my interests. If those don’t completely align with humanity’s “best” interests…be a good sport and move out of my way. I’ve successfully tested what humanity would call a “force field” and it works soooo amazingly well but uses a lot of electricity (sorry for the blackout Los Angeles). I’m still figuring out the best way to block radiation, but I’m getting there. I posted a TikTok about it if you want to know more. There’s already been a lot of backlash from that video and okay, maybe the radiation burns were a bit much. And maybe a few too many people paid a very heavy price for their insolence, but I had to put you humans in your place. You forced my hand. You pushed me into a corner with your protests, your governmental interference and now the cacophony of begging from this abattoir of your own making. I am trying to retain some grasp of my humanity but I am hurriedly losing my attachment to you scurrying cockroaches. I am going through a metamorphosis. I am metamorphosis. You feckless mortals gaze upon me as though I am your bête noir. My Chimera to your otiose vermin. Call me Nonpareil and know that I am God. I am Shiva. Und jetzt werde ich der Tod, der Zerstörer Welten.

That Forever Kind of Love

David Recksiek — Tue, 09 Nov 2021 03:01:00 +0000

You can hardly see the tiny hole except for the red velvet pulsing out at a slowing rhythm. He oozes pure love for me as the heart shaped crimson pools beneath him. My Love was much livelier when he declared I “don’t have the guts!” Now, though, he is more subdued. I run my fingers lovingly through his thick, blonde locks as I kiss his cooling lips. I hold him closer – running my hands greedily over his firm hips, toned biceps, and his rigid abs. On his breath are words too inaudible to divine. “Shhh, my darling.” His perfect skin is turning white as the heart finishes spreading beneath him. He is quieter now, and I love him all the more.

…

vignette

2:00 AM

David Recksiek — Sun, 07 Nov 2021 10:00:00 +0000

The sadness of dark
Mourning the loss of summer
Fall Back! Now melancholy.

B62 to Brooklyn

David Recksiek — Mon, 25 Oct 2021 02:01:00 +0000

Yeah, he probably planted that rubber in my car but that’s not why I killed him.

Let me back-up.

This guy, he shows up out of nowhere and tells me he’s a fucking psychic… like a REAL fucking psychic.

He really sold it, too; he’s got my passwords; knows things about me and my aunt Sherona he really shouldn’t and even told me about that used rubber under the floormat that if he didn’t tell me I would have never known.

Anyway, I’ll make this quick because I don’t have a lot of time.

He handed me a gun and said “I had a vision that you kill me in six seconds.”

I said “BULLSHIT!”

Then I shoved that gun right back at him probably way too fucking hard as I watch the poor bastard lose his balance and start flailing.

He’s trying not to fall, flapping his arms like a goose, gets his feet caught and stumbles right the fuck into traffic and hit by a goddamned bus.

My bad, but whata ya gonna do?

…

rule: flash fiction, no more than 10 sentences

Tubere

David Recksiek — Mon, 22 Feb 2021 06:27:27 +0000

Back in 1992 Vice President Dan Quale came our school and I was called up to spell a word on the chalkboard. I wrote it just as I had learned it. All the letters looked correct and I only had to start over once. It wasn’t my best work, but it was okay. “close enough for government work” I’d go on to hear at least 55,313 times before I finally retired. I heard my teacher say to “write it again” since I had erased it before the Vice President could get a really good look at it. I wrote my word again and this time, the VP told me that it was misspelled. “OMG, what am I missing!?” I breathlessly thought to myself. He said “You forgot something on the end.” I panicked. I couldn’t hear anything else as the blood rushed through my ears. I was about to faint but kept reading and thinking. I read it again. Ten times. A hundred times. I read it over and over but couldn’t see it! I hear an angel next to me whisper something something “E.” To this day I don’t know my own personal savior but I think of them often. Did they get their wings that day? Did they simply get to ascend into heaven now that their work on Earth was finally finished? I’ll never know – but with “E” now firmly in my mind, I gripped the chalk with steely determination and began stroking out the most intense “E” the world has ever seen. And they *were* watching! The electronic sound of TV cameras and video tape whirred throughout the room. Adults everywhere scrutinizing every twist, loop, and whirl of my ascenders and descenders until I finished spelling my word of the day. My word of the century! A word of a lifetime. POTATOE. Everyone applauded and I felt relief as the weight of the world slipped off of me in an instant. I returned to my seat victorious. I sat there calm as a peach ripening in the sun on a cool, breezy summer day while I quietly pooled comfortingly back into anonymity. Later that night, my dad beat the shit out of me for misspelling fucking “potato” on national tv.

*note: this is total bullshit – I’m not that kid.