Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.


A random pedestrian walks down a grimy sidewalk, not a car to be seen, the only thing guiding their way was Jack Daniels in a nondescript paper bag and flickering streetlights every few yards. Smoke billowed out of the buildings nearby. The air smelled of nicotine and exhaust fumes. A nearby bus station clock showed 1:24 in dim red LEDs. The alley nearby held foreboding darkness.

It was a mugging waiting to happen.

The manhole cover in the middle of the street scraped the asphalt off the road with an alarming crunch. It was enough to warrant a response from the pedestrian. A swig from the Jack Daniels, and a figure was coming into sight. Through the liquor-induced mindset, the pedestrian automatically assumed it was a ninja. The pedestrian rubbed their eyes. The figure had taken the shape of a turtle. The remaining ‘sane’ part of his mindset deduced it was a freakish mutant.

Perhaps it was all three.

The manhole cover slid shut and the figure disappeared into the night.

The bus station clock showed 1:29 in dim red LEDs.


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