Fiction Hellacious

            “So? How ya feeling?”             “Fine. I feel fine,” Sammy spoke into the phone. He was sitting in the dark to be able to concentrate on her voice better, “I was really depressed but now I'm fine. I promise.”             “You wouldn't lie to me now, would you?” she spoke into the phone too. She was in her kitchen cooking with wine.             “No. And anyway, I figure you'd know if I was.”             “Oh yeah? How come?”             “Well, don't you like... deal with psychos all the time? I mean, isn't that your job?”             “No!” she wasn't as defensive as she sounded tho...

I arrived the day before you at this sort of bed and breakfast retreat. You were having some trouble because of the unexpected weather. The Central Valley isn’t used to heavy snowfall. And I waited in what would be our room watching flurries from the window. Sad because I had to wait for you and because I was so warm and toasty when I knew you were still out fighting crowds of sneezing people and cold wind. But then word came; you were down in the lobby. People wanted me to know so I could help you with your luggage. Maybe they just wanted me to know period. And you looked so pretty in your sweater. We paused for a quick hug. I asked what other bags you had and you said, “Cuneiform.” I knew this to mean your white boxes with the scratchy, decorative-lettering. You squealed with glee to be alone with me in the warmth of our room.   

            “Omar! What's up, buddy?!” Val spoke to his best friend elatedly from the video screen, “I know, I know. That's a bad joke. But fuck it, I still think it's funny. Anyway, I suppose they asked you to do the eulogy. It was per my request so I at least hope they asked you. In fact, I sort of need you to so if anyone else is doing it then you need to fucking kill them. Or at least restrain them until after the funeral or something. Sabee? I know you must be really weirded out by now. And you're probably stressing about the eulogy on top of it!” Val smiled, “But I promise you...everything's gonna be okay. Even the eulogy! In fact, I'm gonna help you write the fucking thing. How's that for best friends? So here goes. First, just talk about how awesome I am and what a badass I was and how much I got laid and everything. Then talk about how I'm the shit. And then talk about how I'm totally money. But I'm sure that's pretty ...

            “You're dying, you know.”             “Yep.”             “Well?”             “Well, what?”             “Well, don't you think you should tell somebody? Somebody besides me , I mean.”             “I didn't tell you that. I don't even know that I am. And you don't know either.”             “You just said you were though.”             “I did not.”             “Then you confirmed that you were.”             “I did...

. א             “Is it true, Papa? Have they finished it? Have they finished building the ramp?”             “Of course not, Darry. Where did you even hear that? Who would have told you such a thing?”             But the boy didn't answer.             “Darry...” Yitzhak made the tone that all parents make when they know for certain that their child has overstepped their bounds or has done something wrong, “You need to tell Papa now. And I promise, I will not punish you. Were you listening to the adults speak when you knew you weren't supposed to?”             “No.”             “Well, then Darry,” he came over and sat on the child's bed with hi...