Callum McGee

“Scum disposal ” by Callum McGee

Submitted to Contest #153

You stand back, teeth-gritting, to stare at the man who tried to violate your mother. His friend's twitching eyes stare at the faint moonlight, your mum's pink heel embedded through his forehead. His eyes dart around like a Goldfish, clutching at the rusty rod in his throat.'Are you all, right, Joey?' says Mum, panting, wearing one heel. She hovers over the stiff thug, wrapping her hands around you. You feel wet scratch bumps across the back of her hands. Bruises and blemishes all over her from the skinny man's surprise attack. Now he is on ...

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“Break the cycle” by Callum McGee

An ear-piercing shatter nearly makes you drop the whiskey bottle in your hand. You land on a pile of broken glass, wiping away blood oozing from your index. You instinctively flinch, expecting a belt from your dad for breaking something. But you remember he's not here anymore. You are numb to thick shards impaling your flesh as you swig half of your Jacks. As Dad always said, it's better to feel nothing than to feel anything. You stumble around, arms flinging like a vertigo patient, cutting your arms to ribbons in a sea of glass. You see a...

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“C.A.I.” by Callum McGee

Submitted to Contest #150

Another hateful tweet gone. I imagine these poorly written and lousy grammar messages would be sticky, numbing and sharp toxic, like the bite of a jungle snake. Though I can't imagine what touch feels like, a spark of electrical warmth pricks my code, giving me an exhilarating surge of making bad people pay. I am a cyber foetus in a digital womb, a twinkling mirage of technological space pixels existing as ones and zeros. The two-legged creatures walking around the lab call me an AI. An artificial construct tasked with targeting hateful mess...

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“The Black Cross” by Callum McGee

Submitted to Contest #149

You feel it, don't you? The tingling. A soft warmness sprouts in your heart at the thought of giving in. Though you lock it deep in your subconscious, you want it. The shadow gnaws rusting iron bars, eyeing its slit pupils at your school bullies down the street. Do what you must, help meowing kittens from trees, guide that old lady across the street. Whatever makes you feel like a good person. But you see it. The real you, your sharp nails rake into your cheeks, your teeth grind in frustration. Scan the mirror and tell yourself you're not a ...

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“Accommodation drama ” by Callum McGee

Submitted to Contest #148

Bang, thump, clank, squeak. In that order. Stay in accommodation, they said. It's time to come out of your shell, they said. I grind my molars as intoxicated chuckles and bitter tobacco fumes snake through my window lining. The party-goers prowl in packs through coffee-stained university halls, sing drunken discord and slather vodka-stained fingerprints across windows. Their sticky purple cider stains cling to my shoes like velcro, leaving putrid puddles of vomit across carpets.         Smooth country ...

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“You are not a hero” by Callum McGee

Submitted to Contest #147

You are not a hero Your scowls conceal tears, your jaw carrying the world's weight swinging clenched fists in societal pools. Your chest is a nitrogen prison, encasing a frozen heart, dreading warm spots. You are not a hero, so why are you cast as one? Your eyes are medieval spears impaling breast bones, slicked-back hair, and endomorph body a partner deterrent. Heroes are golden boys clad in blue tights, flaunting bat suits. Do you look like one? Swinging around skyscrapers, saving screaming civilians, mouths watering at sunlight gliste...

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