Kenneth Boutte
Stories (7/0)
The Dream
The two brown French doors eagerly await my arrival. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…” I say beneath my breath. A few gentle taps and the doors swing open welcoming me with open arms. “Ahhh Corbin!” A tall woman in a black pants suit says like she hasn’t seen me in ages. I ignore her misplaced greeting and get straight to business. “Look I need you to know I’m not crazy, ok doctor uhmm..” Her face fills with a smile that her cheeks can barely contain. “Please call me Lucy, and I don’t think you’re coming to therapy because you’re crazy.” She says with a playful pat on the back. She’s definitely one of those bubbly happy girls that always looks on the bright side. A damn rainbow hugger, it's enough to make me wanna punch her in her perfect teeth. “Why don’t you come in and tell me what’s bothering you.”
By Kenneth Boutte4 days ago in Horror
Tears of the Cicada
The priest’s footsteps echo down the hall a shy louder than the cicadas outside. I relish in their annoying screeching. It takes me back to when I was a kid scraping my knee, falling off my bike, or getting slapped by Bridgette Stanley for trying to look up her skirt. Yea those were much simpler pains than what’s coming next. “Excuse me Thomas, I’m Fr. Atwood and I’m here for your final confession if you wish my son.” A frail old balding white priest says to me with his hands clasped together. He’s wearing a wholesome smile and the usual all black priest get-up with a tight clerical collar. “Nawh, Fr. Atwood what’s the point of it all? The lord knows what I done, and he knows I’m sorry. Telling you ain’t gonna do nothing but waste both our time. And I ain't got much of that left.” The holy man just smiles, nods and waves goodbye. “I’ll be praying for you, my son.” He says as he turns to walk away. His shuffling feet go silent and leave me to the song of the cicadas and yelling inmates yelling their goodbyes.
By Kenneth Boutte13 days ago in Horror
Tails From the Gate
There weren’t always dragons in the valley, until that damn gateway showed up. Before it started spewing the scaly bastards left and right, I would like to think this was a peaceful place. A peaceful place, with flowers and little woodland animals, stuff like that. But now this place is full of them fighting and burning everything to the ground. We don’t know if it’s the breeze coming off the mountains or the smell of armored tanks leaking diesel fuel keeping them here, but dragons call this valley home now. And it’s up to the Fifth Division infantry to evict them. Truth be told no one has been able to kill even one. They kill themselves more than we have ever been able to even make a dent. That is until today, an injured one was spotted and we’ve been tasked with killing it off.
By Kenneth Boutte2 years ago in Fiction
The Cure
The calendar displays December 18th, and I can’t believe it's been 7 months already. “It’s been a long time… a really long time.” I mutter to myself as I put on my coat. Alisha stares at me through thick dust on the picture frame while I set the alarm to the World War 2 museum and head to the door. Her smile grips me to my office and compels me to go back to my desk one more time just to see it. Regrettably, her face is starting to fade from my memory. Her photo seems a bit ill placed amongst the relics and memorabilia from the war, but her smile is a reminder. A reminder of how happy she was when she turned herself in for treatment. I keep it on my desk as a symbol of the progress we’ve made from the days when Hitler was trying to create his “master race”. This new cure is a shining example of how we’ve grown to help our fellow man. They say it can cure anything! Well anything contagious that is. These days the cure is exactly what we need but I admit, I miss her. This picture is the only way I get to see her now. It’s been so long since she got sick that she seems like a dream, or someone I made up. But surely she’s real and holds on to the love we share. The type of love that comes with the hope for the future, a hope for that little slice of happiness with a cliché picket fence. Hope is all I need today. It’s our anniversary. It's been 7 months to the day since she turned herself in for being sick. I’ve gone back every month since then, with the hope of her clean bill of health.
By Kenneth Boutte2 years ago in Fiction
Galudnee's Light
Galudnee’s Light The champagne bubbles have a different kinda pop to them tonight. It’s the same Defusco’s and the same veal parmesan cannelloni but tonight everything is different. Shelby’s green eyes stare at me beneath the candlelight awaiting the big news she has been anticipating all day. Her acrylic filled nails merge into my palms and time has finally come to share the news I’ve been holding all day.
By Kenneth Boutte3 years ago in Fiction
Brown Box Confessional
Brown Box Confessional Ever since I could remember, I’ve loved the shower. Not a bath where you’re sitting in your own filth, but a shower. Blood, dirt, perfume; you can wash off anything in the shower. Can wash off your sins too if you’re in there long enough. The hot water caresses my body and strips me of all the unwanted. It all rolls off my skin and swirls down the drain forgotten, and discarded. Stepping out, I’m as new and as naked a babe. But in truth, a fogged reflection of a monster stares back in the mirror. The monster is covered in bruises and scratches from last night’s endeavor. Even putting on my best smile the evil still remains.
By Kenneth Boutte3 years ago in Fiction
What Falls on Deaf Ears
What Falls on Deaf Ears The unmistakable smell of coffee swirls through the small gas station as the twins prepare for the early risers like me. I’m usually one of the first ones in to avoid the crowds. Avoiding people’s stares is something I’ve incorporated into my daily routine. Today is no different.
By Kenneth Boutte3 years ago in Fiction