Richard Thompson
Bio
Lives on the bleeding edge of reality. at https://themarkettavern.ca and https://whiterabbitt.picfair.com It is also where the sun goes at the winter solstice. Hallucinating the fey; at the gates of dawn; in the Kingdom of Prester John
Stories (11/0)
The Food Riots
So it is entirely possible that my experiences with the other side, the ether, the Aether, or whatever you name the higher planes, they came calling upon me some years ago, and in their wake left a devastating awareness, a conciousness that had never viewed the ecosystems of the world in quite the way reality was now being presented. A reality, that shared itself through flashbacks to a history I never saw at the time, being on the peripheral of events, a participant in my life by only the barest definitions, the mechanical parts to be sure. Carrying out the days needs as best I could while the world unfolded around me, with not a single ounce of control. My fate was decided, just as sure as winter is seven months long up in the mountains where I live. A dozen of them flitted by, in what seemed like seconds, seconds that stretch into an empty void, the scattered revenants of memory swirling round in a cyclone of dissipating storm fronts, tearing them off their foundations and jumbling up the order of things. Would that a person could go back in time, if only to a Assage the grief, if only to catch that memory one more time, that golden instant, where love and light coalesced into utter perfection in my eyes, the peaceful scene I cling too, while tears drip from my eyes. Great hot swollen droplets, running down and falling from my eyes in a never ending torrent, their arrival the signal that grief is about to well up, at her memory. Grief that your soul will never feel the lightness of being that comes with knowledge that you can take for granted…the loving presence of your child.
By Richard Thompsonabout a year ago in Families
Mintaka or Bed?
So this is a story about being asleep at the wheel: as in my whole community is asleep at the wheel. The whole world is for that matter. Do not know if it was the Hadron collider that did us in, or it really was the Mayan prediction, or a prophecy from some other epoch in time.
By Richard Thompson2 years ago in Confessions
Curses
I should take a moment here and introduce myself as narrator of this story and take the focus from its current location and shift it a little. You see, I am writing this from a comfortable future and not only have memory and timeline issues but also benefit from the added bonus of removing associated trauma from my head with each victorious completion of a chapter, thus removing my associated limbic response and fundamentally altering the, already shoddy, memory, allowing me the blessed peace of having that particular incident in my life finally stored properly and no longer haunting me with flashbacks or intrusive interruptions to what should be (but isn’t ) regular cognitive function.
By Richard Thompson2 years ago in Fiction
Dinner Demon
”Hello,” said the demon affably, “I will be your curse for this evenings main course.” “What,” I stammered, quick on the uptake. “I am quite sure I ordered all my wishes granted with a side order of affluenza,” I finished, trying to hide from the demon behind my napkin.
By Richard Thompson2 years ago in Fiction
May 16
Why is May 16 such an important date to remember? Because that is precisely the day that the world ends. Such is life. It will begin with omens and portents such as Shiva, Goddess of Death turning her starry gaze earthwards from the heavens and gnashing her teeth. This event will occur earlier on April 21 because I have calculated, quantumly, that Shivas Avatar is my ex wife who shares her birthday with Hitler on the 21st day of April making it a pretty shoddy day overall and perfect for some portenshish omens, not to mention making a decent pre omen in advance of the total annilation of man on May 16, of next year.
By Richard Thompson2 years ago in Fiction
