No Rest for the Wicked

by Catherine Bader


He stumbled over everything.  Half a face, no nose, no left ear.

I knew him from the building on Fifth.

He carried a severed arm covered in thick clotty blood.

Took an occasional lick.

I watched him from my open window on the 4th floor.

I sneezed.

Long hair flew from one spot to another as he snapped his head forward and up.

Coming my way.

Guess it’s time for the 9mm.

I can never get an entire day of rest anymore….

I turned as the door to my apartment blew open.

Rest was no longer an issue.

About Russ Thompson

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