Author Archives: Hank Kirton

There is a Can of Red Paint

in the kitchen. The can of red paint is on the floor. In the middle of the kitchen. The can is sealed shut. It is essentially a brand-new can. Full, anyway. The floor of the kitchen is covered with old floating linoleum. It is patterned, and cheap. The pattern is composed of blue and greenContinue reading “There is a Can of Red Paint”

Incense and Peppermints

Tommy remained in bed, determined to enjoy the morning. Incense and Peppermints played on the radio again. Tommy liked the song okay but they played it way too much. He preferred stuff with a darker, harder edge. Purple Haze was a way better song. Light My Fire too. But at least The Strawberry Alarm ClockContinue reading “Incense and Peppermints”

Stab Wounds Everywhere

Lillian The caustic rain of lacerations began as soon as Lillian burst awake at six am. The memory of that morning’s coffee would wound her two hours later. A baby in a stroller wounded her on the way to the bank. She tasted blood on her gums. A bus with mute, mutated faces in theContinue reading “Stab Wounds Everywhere”

A Cold Breakfast

I was young once and it lasted a good long mile. Like my grandfather before me. You may have heard of my grandfather, if you’re a true crime enthusiast. He became an infamous spree killer way back in 1957. His transition was sudden.  In 2003, some talentless hack cobbled together a short documentary on myContinue reading “A Cold Breakfast”

The Story of 8

Story of 8 “The teenager of the new generation grew up in a time of nerves. Newspapers screaming headlines of race riots, revolution, earthquakes. And back of it all: speed! Everyone rushing nowhere to get nowhere for no reason. Fast planes, fast cars. It’s a fast life, Inspector. It’s a whirlpool of speed and confusionContinue reading “The Story of 8”

My Time Machine

My time machine doesn’t work too well at the moment. It hurts my face now sometimes and gives me crushing headaches when I get back from the past and all I can do is lay in bed and wait for things to get better.  I made my time machine with transistors and other shit withContinue reading “My Time Machine”

Smothered Under Heavy Cement…

It took a silvery sliver of a second. I was only thirteen. It happened so long ago… Then why does it still weigh me down like a pair of gangster-style cement shoes?   The sudden snap of light startled me from my transition into sleep…. I’d been edging into the relief of a dream…and then myContinue reading “Smothered Under Heavy Cement…”

Heaven Always Has Room

Wish List: I once worked with a tall drink of water named Christopher J. McSpinch. I’ll always remember that unusual name. He was a nice, polite guy and I liked him. We worked for a company called Intelillink Communications. Don’t bother looking it up, it’s long gone. It was merged into oblivion.  My duties includedContinue reading “Heaven Always Has Room”