Living Vessels

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

The bearded man stood on the marble stairs of the park’s stage and raised his Big Gulp cup over his head. “Drink deeply and live!”

Five onlookers watched him with faint curiosity. This was new.

He paused to wipe rub his face on a worn and well-stained sleeve. Then he squeezed his nose and flung the residue away with a meaty slap. “Don’t be shy—or grossed out. We’re all sinners here. Filthy, goddamned sinners.”

A skinny black guy in a coat that might have fit him once, licked his lips and stepped forward. “I ain’t afraid.”

Gleefully, the bearded man thrust the cup out. Inside, almost to the brim, a thick, viscous fluid sloshed back and forth. Purple bubbles of froth dotted the top in small masses.

With shaking hands, the black man took hold of the cup and raised it until it was just under his nose. It smelled faintly of strawberries and nothing else. It was almost as if any other smells had been erased. There was almost a tangible absence of smell. He tilted the cup up and let the liquid kiss his lips.


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Comments (3 so far!)

Average reader rating 4.00/5



Well written in the style I like best - letting the hint of darker and bigger themes hang in the background, yet bringing enough to the forefront to make it interesting!

  • #1186 Posted 7 years ago
  • 0


Liked this quite a bit. It set my mind whirring to fill in the blanks.

  • #1189 Posted 7 years ago
  • 0
  • 4 out of 5
ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Not a fan of the nose part. Gross.

  • #1191 Posted 7 years ago
  • 0
  • Published 7 years ago.
  • Story viewed 24 times and rated 1 times.

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