Willem Indigo
Bio
I spend substantial efforts diving into the unexplainable, the strange, and the bewilderingly blasphamous from a wry me, but it's a cold chaotic universe behind these eyes and at times, far beyond. I am Willem Indigo: where you wanna go?
Stories (62/0)
Last Minute before my Excommuncado
Pablo shoots Rick, his body hits the floor, and Lady Sunshine is taken aback by the mess. He’s not closing out his current call, most likely to sear in the point, no more interruptions; our lives continuing was unnecessary, and the discussion was not open. I hated the guy, but he left me no choice, leaving me to die on a few cases, so consider me living in the moment; Lady Sunshine couldn’t utter a single word through her gritting teeth and pinched lips. Now that I think back, he was loopy for her control style since her concoction removed all other ties, family included. Impossible to believe she ever cared about anyone’s demise except the gunman to her left staring at the growing blood pool. Pablo’s misinterpretation of her wide-eyed lip twitch put his focus on an anecdote I’d heard similarly before from another power-hungry type with a flare built into their murderous lectures. Since my version has a litany of extra details that would further incriminate me, I didn’t need to think about the task she signaled in her judgmental side-eye meant for my tired sighs.
By Willem Indigo4 days ago in Humor
Black Jungle
Black Jungle I thought I had seen the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Young as I may be, I’ve combed the tired beach of my home of a freshly lost battle, washing to shore for coin to eat off of. How appalling it was to watch a coach run in flames, the owner’s whereabouts unknown, locked to two exhausted horses, choosing a cliff to fix their unfortunate circumstances. Take today. I came across the heads of former comrades posted at the entrance to the fork side that I wished I had time to look closer at before trying to lose my pursuers. That I did, if not immediately on the reputation of the path of Noir Libertalia, the three that stayed on my horse’s ass dropped out in screams faster than I can swear I’m going. Trees creaked like they were discovering applause as I tried not to consider that some of those branches were bones. And I must admit that the severed foot that landed in my lap, boot slid away before the foot; the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, of course. No. The worst thing I’ve seen was a minute ago, which was my horse’s ass shitting itself, fading into the fog-laced trees without me. Lost in the coldest part of the night; what a night my thievery has led me into?!
By Willem Indigo25 days ago in Fiction
Confession Time
He’s typically not up this late. Pulling into the driveway, Chelsey pondered if he couldn’t make it to the bedroom again and would be found sprawled on the sofa. Except muffled music pounded the closed blinds like it instead of the breeze fluttering her wind chimes. If he didn’t have a terrible day, it would do wonders for her to arrive so close to moon light after the decision that she was not cooking tonight. Plus, Ben sat on the front porch in one of four chairs, putting out one smoke and holding another between two fingers without lighting it. Maybe he did have a hard day, she thought. He texted with thumbs on fire but tossed the phone on the table like the cheap tool that it was when he was done. She waved after making eye contact with him. He only nodded. Hood barely giving her eyebrows. She was surprised he knew she was standing before him. Went to kiss him on the head to the statuesque response of his refusal to look up, that it until she went for the door. Chelsey’s claim that there was a Scandals episode calling out for her he grabbed her arm. He had never been so rough before. It didn’t hurt but startled her to a life once lived that almost courted a harsh retaliation, but his grip was limp, even with a little caressing with his thumb. “Please sit; they’re almost here.”
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Fiction
White Out
The blowout sale and one-day-left coupons made the trip sound sweeter, leaving them in a haze of jittery anticipation for the Montana mountains. Half the savings would remain home for being, what Vick thought would over-saturate the experience. Sharp cold can be strangely calming. The smooth flight of chair-kicks paled in comparison to the vista overlook the six stopped at before the campsite. How could they not stretch their legs beyond the civilian trail to the snow-kissed riverside? Dana’s husband, Jason, spotted the hidden path into the mountain base.
By Willem Indigo3 months ago in Fiction
