The Grand Conspiracy

Chains of Love

By Cyr ⋅ February 8, 2010 ⋅ One comment

You were sitting on a blanket in the outside the university’s library with a few of your friends. I don’t know what you were talking about or what was in the flask you all passed around, but your smile made the sun seem like a dying light bulb in comparison.

Hellhounds On My Tail

By Cyr ⋅ January 17, 2010 ⋅ One comment

The XR-79 single passenger hi speed transport module was a rough ride when it came to atmospheric entry, but it got the job done

Hoochie Koochie Man

By Cyr ⋅ December 20, 2009 ⋅ Post a comment

I was standing there when the gypsy woman told your mother all about you.

Statesboro Blues

By Cyr ⋅ November 29, 2009 ⋅ One comment

There is a parallel earth where everything you’ve ever done wrong was done right.

Birth of the Blues

By Cyr ⋅ November 9, 2009 ⋅ Post a comment

On the first day he made light. He did this just to fuck with people, since he didn’t plan on making the sun until day four. “Let them figure that one out,” he said to no one else…since he hadn’t made anyone to say it yet.

Customer Service Letter

By Cyr ⋅ November 2, 2009 ⋅ 3 comments

You see, I am a simple old married man, and I thought that it would be nice to have an “encounter” with a 22 year old co-ed. I’m sure you know what I mean by “encounter.” The quotation marks kind of make the meaning obvious. In order to achieve this dream of mine, I had to overcome two obstacles.

Every Demon’s Guide To Breaking A Human

By Cyr ⋅ October 25, 2009 ⋅ One comment

You watch the human with interest. She walks around her apartment alone. She sits in the dark alone. She cries and drinks and eats alone. She fucks men. She fucks women. After they leave, she sleeps alone. She’s a picture of isolation. She’s a solitary soul who doesn’t feel a connection with the world. For all intents and purposes, she suits your needs perfectly. She is every demon’s dream.

Hand Out

By Cyr ⋅ October 18, 2009 ⋅ 2 comments

Standing in the glow from the overhead streetlights, an odor cut through the smell of cigarettes and whiskey. The chatter of his friends grew silent as their noses were assaulted by the new smell. Acrid and sour, it was the unmistakable perfume of stale urine. The boy looked away from his group of friends and saw the odor’s source approaching quickly, hand out, and story already in progress.