Author S. K. Nicholas

  There’s not much I want to do, but one thing that would give me a kick is to take her into the bathroom and make her whisper Candyman five times before the mirror above the sink. Holding her arms behind her back, I’d force her to stay there until he came to get her, and… Read more

We are thought criminals and dancers skipping down the middle of the road as cars crash around us in the dead of night. We are strangers and lovers passing on deserted streets like whispers from a hundred years ago that evaporate like the beads of sweat on our sleeping heads as soon as they are… Read more

Bombing the universe, I piss in a plant pot while drunk and watching The Shining for the fifth night in a row. The American version, mind, none of your European bullshit. Convinced my early death is imminent, I roll a cigarette and observe the scene where Jack confronts the woman in room 237. It’s the… Read more

In the blink of an eye the veil was lifted, and for the first time in your life, you saw people not as ideas, or as permanent beings, but as bones with flesh wrapped around them. Endless bags of bones drifting around as if they had all the time in the world when in reality… Read more

  When I was a young boy, I used to wake up in the early hours of the morning and watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Rising without need for an alarm, I’d get up a few hours before my parents and sit downstairs before the electric fire. Popping the VHS tape into place, the film would… Read more

  In the back seat of a taxi, the town stretches before us. In the dark of night, thousands of lights shimmer so pretty but not the stars, as they’re hidden by unseen clouds. Storm clouds to be precise. There’s the odd rumble of thunder and the occasional lightning bolt in the distance. Scanning the landscape… Read more

  We kiss with tongues as a machete fight breaks out further down the sidewalk. When it snows, and I hold you close and whisper in your ear that I love you, some Mexican kid is having his face peeled off with a boxcutter. As I kiss your eyelids and tell you that no one… Read more

  Beneath a light bulb that flickers whenever we fuck, there are over a dozen notepads on the shelf above the bed that remain empty save for a few elicit drawings of women and their womanly parts. Each time I attempt to write, nothing comes to mind. Not even after I come from taking her… Read more

  How deep is Loch Ness? How warm is her womb? These two questions are most pressing, but as the cigarette hangs from my fingers, my trail of thought drifts away even further. She drives around to clear her head, but there’s no escaping guilt, nor from a lifetime of ghosts despite her still only… Read more