My Work

Mr. Pascal's Funeral Parlor - Literally Stories
The windows are closed, the clocks all stopped, the mirrors are covered, and the Melancholies all sprinkling salt water on the body. Yes, all things are coming together. By the end of the night one would be laid to peace while one burned.

You’re not sure if you’re awake or asleep. There is nothing but darkness and you can’t feel yourself breathe and your limbs aren’t under your control. The air feels different. Gravity feels different. Your muddled mind is hazed, there’s a question you should be asking but you can’t think of what it is. Your concern right now is opening your eyes. 
Open your eyes. 

This is what it’s like when the mind starts to go, he’s been told. Each day he misplaces more details, such as where he put his keys or whether he left his headlights on. Once, the thought of losing these bits and pieces of cognition scared him. It still scares him. 
He has his Ann, though.