Welcome to WeeklyWilson.com, where author/film critic Connie (Corcoran) Wilson avoids totally losing her marbles in semi-retirement by writing about film (see the Chicago Film Festival reviews and SXSW), politics and books----her own books and those of other people. You'll also find her diverging frequently to share humorous (or not-so-humorous) anecdotes and concerns. Try it! You'll like it!

Tag: flash fiction

Konerak: New-Age Zombie

    Konerak quivered. Beast come back. No more! No more cut Konerak!

    The cold tile of the bathroom wall. Blood inside the tub, Konerak’s blood.

    The tall blonde man opened the bathroom door, approached Konerak.

    “This won’t hurt. Prince Philip of Orange had it done seventeen times by his surgeon. Nearly everyone lives. Well, 70%, anyway. It won’t hurt…. too much. There aren’t that many nerves in your skull. After I bore the hole, I’ll put in a nice soothing medicine. You’ll heal up and be as good as new. You’ll be a New-Age Zombie.”

     Jeffrey busied himself sharpening the ancient instrument, one used in Hippocrates’ time.  “One French doc…he drilled 52 holes in a patient’s head in just 2 months. The guy lived.  So, don’t worry. This will help you to accept your new life. I’m not such a bad guy. When you tried to get away and ran out into the street, that was stupid. Don’t do that again, or I will kill you. I told those cops we were lovers. We will be lovers. You will stay with me.”

     Konerak did not understand a single word. Konerak was of the Hmong people of Laos. He’d only been in Milwaukee for six months. The Hmong do not even have a written language. He spoke no English.

    How I get here? Konerak wondered. He remembered very little of the night, three days earlier. A bar. Loud music. Drink. Much cash. The man looked nice. I think he want sex, for money. Konerak’s slight build made him a frequent target in gay bars. American men would pay well for services.

    Konerak had broken out of the apartment, wandered, dazed into the streets, until the cops found him. But the Beast was right behind him. Konerak did not know the language of the policemen. They turned him back to the white devil. Now, Konerak lay in the bloody bathtub, trussed, cut, bleeding, terrified.

     Konerak tried to summon the strength to pull away from the sharp pointed instrument that Jeffrey held in his hands, but he was weak, both from loss of blood and from torture. He stank from urine and feces and blood and fear. He shook his head from side to side: No! No! No! No!  Eyes wide with fear.

    The beast approached his head with a drill.

   “I’m just going to take a small piece out of your skull, now,” said Jeffrey in what Jeffrey hoped was a soothing voice. “I’ll grind it up and drink it in my coffee.” A weird smile.  “The Incas thought it would make your spirit strong. Then, I’m going to pour this nice medicine (Jeffrey motioned towards a brown bottle on the floor) in the hole, and you’ll be fine. And we’ll be friends…and more.” Jeffrey smiled. “Are you OK with that?’  

     Konerak’s eyes glazed over. Excruciating pain rendered him stuporous and his gag made it impossible for him to speak.

     Konerak not do anything bad. Please! Please! Please!

    The horrible pain rendered Konerak unconscious.

Las Vegas: Here I Come !

    You may notice an unfortunate lack of accompanying pictures for my upcoming three-day trip to Las Vegas (March 29 – April 1). I am boarding a plane (from Chicago) at the crack of dawn on Saturday and winging my way west to the city that never sleeps. (Or is that New York City?)

     As I sit here in Chicago, there is a nasty combination of snow/rain and something resembling sleet being dumped upon the city. I am watching it obscure all view of Lake Michigan, and I’ll just bet that the workers across the street working in the Central Station developments of the South Loop are really happy to be working in a semi-blizzard (she said, facetiously).

    I have plans (or perhaps I should say “had”) to walk to the Field Museum tonight for “Members Night.” If this keeps up, there will be no walking…only driving.

     In just a few moments I have to leave the safe, comfy confines of my condo to go feed my son’s cat. Usually, I do this in the evening, but the aforementioned “Members’ Night” at the Field Museum will make it impossible to feed the cat in the evening. <sigh>

     I an addition to anticipating the warmer climate and great good fun of Las Vegas (I have tickets for Spamalot and Tom Jones), I am looking forward to getting out of this unpredictable and not-that-pleasant weather. My college-age daughter in Nashville (Tennessee) tells me it is seventy degrees there and she is going canoeing. There will be no canoeing anywhere near Chicago on this blustery, wintery-looking day!

     I spent parts of the past week producing Horror Flash Fiction for a contest (under 500 words). All were rejected, but I remain happy in the knowledge that, soon, I will be going to a WARM place.

      Since I am not taking my computer with me to Las Vegas, I will not be posting until April 1st (not a long time…only 3 days without me, and others will carry on in my absence), so I am going to post my horrifying 500-word Flash Fiction piece entitled, “Konerak: New Age Zombie.” It’s pretty horrifying, if I do say so myself.

     I would say, “Enjoy,” but that seems like the wrong term for a zombie Flash Fiction piece.

     More on Vegas later; happy reading!

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén