The Skeletons in the closet

I did this a while back for a contest. Some lovely, creative people thought it needed more work and was a bit odd at places and I promised myself I’d fix it as soon as I get my head around it once more. I never did do that, not fully, but I thank them for pointing out the bumps.

 The Skeletons in the closet 

He occasionally joined the smokers outside the hospital, two blocks away from his flat. Their ill-painted faces gazed into some void; while the sparkle in their eyes was beaten to extinction, their parched lips pulled on those fags with a mechanical desire for tasting life. He sat with them with the same want to extract life from a fading object. He lingered until he had eased his countenance and poisoned himself with the unspoken diagnosis written on their death certificates.Then he walked home.
His flat stood colorless on a street corner. Across its shady structure stretched a bar, noticeable by its grand signs, epileptically flickering neon pipes which illuminated the narrow walls of his humble home.

He came in, bringing his shadow along, a skinny imprint dragging at his feet, and sat on the sofa allowing the magenta-blue lights to blind him, penetrating his iris after each teary blink.

There was a thump. He clutched his fingers into a fist. More thumps followed at hectic intervals, each louder than the previous.  He turned rapidly to stare at the closet door, watching the handle being tempered with.

“Shut up!”

Yet at another attempt the door flung open, grasping darkness visible, a depth belonging to the authority of some place, which spawns depraved nightmares.
He arose livid, a mad sparkle aflame in his eye.  The click-clacking sound came to life; the room narrowed even more, crushing his reality. A rotten specter loomed; a yellowing bone reaching for him.

The neons buzzed gently outside.

Tonight they decorated a deaths face. The black sockets were filled with purple, blending into a drowning red, the hanging jaw dipped in light blue, bringing out the hollowness. The lights played upon the skeleton body as it approached, piercing through its ribs, escaping between its fingers.

Angered, he closed the distance between himself and the skeleton and grabbed it by the cracked skull.

“How many times have I told you to stay inside? I don’t want to see you, you hear me? You hear me in there?  Stay inside and be quiet!” His fingers tangled in the remaining flocks of hair and he dragged the frail creature back into its dungeon, shutting the door tight. However, unable to lock it.

He spent the night drinking. He laughed afterwards, a mad and bitter laughter. A false remedy for fear.

Inside the closet, his past desperately scratched at the door to be let out, to be set free. Two other skeletons sat by its side, long ago in terms with their helplessness.

He stopped before the closet door, a stink of alcohol on his breath.

“You’re never getting out of here.” It wasn’t a warning.

Once acquiring skeletons in your closet, you’re never rid of them. They simply follow.


4 thoughts on “The Skeletons in the closet

  1. I smiled at the closing lines. Tough dealing with those skeletons! Can leave a body livid.

    Just on typographics, you might look over the paragraph again. It looks like WordPress split up a few paragraphs with odd double spaces, like the opening.

  2. I don’t know about odd, this piece is very darkly poetic, and is chock full of wonderfully descriptive imagery.

    If you don’t want skeletons scrabbling at your closet door all the time, then best behave in the first place, eh? 🙂

    • Some people don’t pay attention in class, figuratively speaking, right? 😀

      Thanks for the comment, Steve, glad you them oddities are making way for a different impression.

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