Submissions by Bowden (John Fitzgerald)

If you cut deep enough you no longer feel it, only the cold of the blade and the initial sting of the first penetrating slice that lets you know you are still alive. The blood runs in a stream from the wound creating an obscure self-portrait on the floor, something……anything to drown out the piercing scream of silence that haunts me every night.
 
Another tragedy, another cut to mark the occasion. Another heartbreak, another scar, maybe two, maybe three this time. Tomorrow is another day for more, more tragedy, more heartbreak. Another opportunity to perfect my beautiful art, with...

Darkness envelopes me.
A steel hand presses against my back, the glass shatters.

My black steampunk heart is my greatest enemy.
The cogs lock as it tells me the lies I need to hear, the glass shatters.

Despair is my best friend.
Tears are the acid that burn my eyes and face, the glass shatters.

Pain is my ally.
As I rest on a bed of razors, spikes and blood, the glass shatters.

Time is a thief.
It smiles a vile grimace, the glass shatters.

Shame is all I know.
Can’t look myself in the mirror, the glass shatters.
...

She walks as if floating above the snow covered cobblestone street. The snow collects on her black laced parasol. She extends a hand to catch the flakes of winter. Her clothes are made of black silk, her skin is pale white; her metal reflects the light of the night.

I’m drawn to this woman, her power is her mysteriousness, my weakness is her.  I have to approach this figure in the night, She beckons me.  I can feel her eyes move up to meet mine, my heart begins to race, she smiles, baring her teeth still glistening red from her latest meal.
 
As I approach, her smile...