A pulpy, fictionalized, and mythologized account of what can be recalled of an allegedly true story.

Work In Progress: First Draft

6 September, 2026

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SELECTIONS

  • The Aberration unfolded himself from his perch on the kitchen windowsill. He stood with a hint of wobble on the fire escape, smoke rising from a cigarette jutting from clenched teeth.

  • The Aberration wobbled. A warm bead of something slid down his cheek. Was he blinking back tears? (dammmit!) Also, he was drunk. As fuck. (fuggckk)

  • Fuck. The Aberration tensed. He didn’t know if there was anything that shouldn’t be in the car in the car but innocence never kept him from feeling guilty. Especially when confronted by authority.

  • A question! The Driver was finally curious about his passenger! (It was only later that the Aberration realized the Driver had read everything he needed to know about him before he’d pulled up beside him.) And as everything but chance would have it, the Aberration did, in fact, smoke crack … on occasion.

  • The lane lines rushed wait, were they rushing or were they kind of … flowing? slowly? no toward him. Was he speeding? Was he driving too slow? Was that even possible? The highway seemed surprisingly empty for a Friday evening in late June. Was it evening? What time was it? When had he left the club?

“There is no greater sorrow than to recall our times of joy in wretchedness.”

Dante Alighieri, Inferno

“I may not have been sure about what really did interest me, but I was absolutely sure about what didn’t.”

Albert Camus, The Stranger

“I wanted, by trying to destroy myself, to satisfy her desire.”

Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote

THIS IS A WORK OF AUTOFICTION
mythologized, not reconstructed. The names of persons and places are not their own. Any resemblance to real individuals, events, or locations is the residue of a compromised memory, not its record.

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BRAND & PRODUCT NAMES.
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