| Fringe Blog – Writing on Film, Culture, and Things on the Fringe

Entertainment Is A Killer

By jelewis8 ⋅ April 30, 2007 ⋅ Post a comment

“A clown killed my dad,” Finch said proudly, and all the kids laughed. Everyone knew Finch’s dad worked at the lumberyard down Rural 51. No one knew my dad performed for twenty odd years before people figured out what he did in his spare time. The secrets that man kept.

A Marriage Proposal

By jelewis8 ⋅ April 24, 2007 ⋅ Post a comment

The old man lowered the gun cautiously. Asking was the difficult part. He hadn’t expected the gun, but understood wanting to protect his daughter. So he took things in stride. A shotgun in his face was one thing he knew he would remember for many years, long after a handshake.

Good Things Come In Small Quanta

By jelewis8 ⋅ April 9, 2007 ⋅ Post a comment

Every year, more of the same. They kept coming in droves, each a dart of disappointment. Any fledgling geniuses must have been going to Mr. Hertzfelder’s. Take Albert. Dense as a bag of marbles. Mind wandering, he was always thinking divergently. Waste of time, that Albert. Relatively speaking, an idiot.

Small Packages

By jelewis8 ⋅ March 26, 2007 ⋅ Post a comment

Wild like a tiger, he had looked for dreams, castles only children saw, but only finding himself growing old and feeling resentment for it. What kind of life crumbled so? That thought, and the cockroach scurrying quickly by, flexed his finger, easing the trigger to off. Life held on again.

Loneliness

By jelewis8 ⋅ February 5, 2007 ⋅ One comment

When time stopped, everything ceased to move, and therefore ceased to produce sound. The irony was, her hearing became sharper, more defined. She could have identified a dung beetle’s scratching from five hundred meters, if it could have scratched. No one should spend timelessness alone. She sighed, and time returned.

Double Indecent Proposal

By jelewis8 ⋅ January 16, 2007 ⋅ One comment

Eddie Johnson had plenty to worry about. He’d spent the startup on horses, then the IRS had arrived. There was only one solution. He called Assam Assam, millionaire. “One million, right?” “Correct. One night, one million dollars.” “I’m not gay.” “Neither am I.” Eddie sighed. He knew what to do.

Cause of Death

By jelewis8 ⋅ January 8, 2007 ⋅ Post a comment

He had beyond, past the third where he was supposed to have dived and stayed, and his bookies profit was inching upward. His mind went to Tahiti for a moment. It was enough. His opponent struck, and a vital nerve disintegrated. The doctors never mentioned excessive pride in the autopsy.

The War

By jelewis8 ⋅ December 11, 2006 ⋅ One comment

He glanced long over the trenches, his home since the shelling had begun. It had constancy that comforted, though broken by the screams of those unlucky under the barrage. Now was the most difficult part. He hoisted the white flag, and he heard his brother’s laugh. The war was over.

True Love

By jelewis8 ⋅ December 4, 2006 ⋅ 2 comments

He promised her everything was going to be different now. She never moved, her mouth frozen in that half-grin that made him wonder what she was really thinking. Had she forgiven him? Or was she secretly plotting against him? That was the tough thing about mannequins. You never really knew.

The Dream

By jelewis8 ⋅ November 20, 2006 ⋅ Post a comment

It was the balloon ride that did it. He was forever in ecstasy of flight, and nothing less than the perpetual openness of sky would keep him happy. He tied the cape then launched himself over the edge. They found his body fifty meters downstream, a smile on his face.

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