C. Rommial Butler
Bio
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
Achievements (8)
Stories (240)
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The Origin of the Smiling Rock. Top Story - November 2024. Content Warning.
This is the next chapter in the ongoing saga of Shamblin' Sam and Ella, Queen of the Damned. The Narrator isn't too happy with me at the moment. I think he may be losing his shit, as we sometimes say here in the slums. Given the difficulty of the subject matter, I think he's done an admirable job navigating it with delicate words, but maybe give him some encouragement in the comments. He's a little shaken...
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Horror
Coffee-Stained Conscience
Coffee-Stained Conscience His conscience, coffee-stained; like his favorite cup, a ring remained down at the bottom where the sponge won’t reach, like his SO(U)L, which ignores the lies they preach, doing NOT what he’s TOLD but what he SHOULD, and recalling the line from the struggling feline: “Tough titty said the kitty but the milk’s still good!”
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Motivation
The Vastness of the Sky. Top Story - November 2024.
My tortured bones long for fire, yearn for the consummation of smoke and ash scattered by the wind to a beckoning end. Once upon a time I was a massive, ancient tree but you broke me down and made a house of me.
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Fiction
Logos Sunbathing on the Edge of the World
I was perched high atop the wall that straddles the edge of the world, basking in the mid-day sun, when the air was rent asunder, and a giant beamed down upon me, blowing great plumes of grey smoke from one of his many orifices through the thin veil between the worlds!
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Fiction
Soteriology
“Do you ever get tired of being the good person to which bad things happen?” “Tired, yes. Sick too. And I’m sick of being tired, and I’m tired of being sick. But I’m not ashamed. I decided long ago, I’d rather be sick and tired than ashamed, because as sick and tired as I am, when my head hits the pillow, I sleep like a baby, but when I did have cause for shame, I didn’t get a wink, and I felt like I was already dead, inside. I may come to grief on account of giving my life away to people who take advantage of me, but what kind of life would I live if I took advantage of others in turn? A life of shame and meaningless pleasure. We all die in the end, but we don’t all go on to a better place. Most of us keep coming back; and what I’m most sick and tired of is coming back.”
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Poets
