Odious Coif by Ingrid Holst is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
When the waitress asked, I realized there’s nothing I want. I’m already dead. So I’ve decided to develop an addiction, so I can feel again. Advertisements
I lay in the patch of sun, warm, hot, slowly dissolving into the light, evaporating. The sun moves on, leaving me. I resolidify. Damn
Standing on a cliff, the wind whipping my hair, I watched my funeral. Only 2 mourners? Faking my death for the bouquets so wasn’t worth it
I created a ghost out of my anger, pain. I let it loose to haunt this town. Years later, it found success as a comic. I happily bus tables
The points of light in my life varied: some bright, some large and diffuse, some faint. But I was leaving them all behind, into darkness
I now deny my new-found power to scratch my own back. First I reveled in it, scratching willy-nilly. But it is, I realized, a lonely feat
I discovered a hidden shrine through a false wall in my closet. Occult artifacts, primitive imagery… I think I found my new game room!