Craig Johnson
Bio
yes...it’s true, I am a liar.
Stories (28)
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No Nothing
Carol liked apples but Ted preferred pears. One liked to sleep all day, the other went for long walks thru the land never returning before the sun was lower than the moons. Both enjoyed lots of other things the other didn’t like, that didn’t involve the other. Carol would spend all day marching the garden, circling the lake, and chatting with all the animals. fowl, lizards, furred or bumpy skin, 2 legs, four legs, 6 legs, no legs.2, wings, one horn. She would have long serious talks with them lasting hours. they would sometimes answer back continuing long conversations filled with nothing but gossip and daydreams, everybody interrupting each other raising their voices, all of them trying to get the last word in. They talk about their feelings, days of boredom, ideas of letting go and moving on, of changing their pasts and futures. About taking off for the edge of the earth. What was farther than the eye could see.
By Craig Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Vacancy
‘The sky is red’, raising her chin confidently. I was bored and knew it was blue but Being sure not to put my foot in her mouth, I said, ‘sure it is’, as always, agreeing with her. My tone of complacency confirming my defeat. It was a test. It was always a test. She liked it when I surrendered. Neither of us had seen the night sky from here before so we tried to enjoy it, patiently waiting for aliens to sink the moon into the ocean, creating a new vacation spot to take the family.
By Craig Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
I Was A Man...
He was a bull, but now a steer. Deep down, Most men’s biggest fear. - CJ I walked back and forth from the front door of the clinic back to my car. I could not get myself to go thru the door. I promised her I would do this, but I was having a hard time following thru. I felt I was betraying my biology. Could I say I had it done? I’m an ok liar, except I always tell on myself. I’m not seeing a way out of this, ‘now what?’, repeating mindlessly as I wear a path for future men to follow.
By Craig Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Quite Comfortable In This Coma
Sandy was asleep on the love seat, the baby was on the floor, and I sat like an Indian, breaking tiny sticks into the fireplace, building a teepee. Faith/satisfied that it would succeed, I kept pulling from a box of matches trying to spark the twigs, but No luck. Down to my last one, I Finally jammed a twisted newspaper under the wood, striking my last hope with confidence of a king and caught a real spark. I started Blowing on it, trying to cool soup. The flames from the paper wrapped around the little branches and ate at the meat of their limbs. Success, I turned my head and smiled at the baby.
By Craig Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Morning Prayer
MORNING PRAYER: ‘I don’t want to write anymore!’ I said pounding my fists into the ground, scratching my fingernails into the cement like dirt. ‘I just need to get to China’. I punched the yard and pushed the empty liquor bottles away from me and fell to my knees, bent over, praying to the east. Clawing my way to freedom.
By Craig Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
The 1st Republic
‘Let them eat cake!’ the mob chanted relentlessly in rhythm. ‘I hope they eat shit!’ she yelled towards the stage then turning to show me her huge smile, revealing her tanned wrinkles and sunflower teeth. Her head swung back, feet hopping up and down trying to see over all the melons camped in front of her. The crowd swayed like a leaf on a lake, inching closer and closer to the wooden stage. The blade of the guillotine shone, mirrored like silverware that had been looted from the palace. That was the only thing real about the whole day.
By Craig Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Halfway To Nowhere Special
It is too cold to sleep outside. I shake myself awake every other minute. I even dream of a warm prison bed. I walk the streets looking for cars with unlocked doors. No need for the stereo or their trash on the floor. Just the metal box that keeps away the wind, the cool, Cold air of winter. Protection from others humanity.
By Craig Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
My Dog Just Died...
my dog just died. I'm feeling sick to my stomach. I guess I'm not as prepared for finality of the ‘end' as I thought I'd be. Just a foreigner in the land of emotion. It’s been so long since anyone I've truly cared about has passed away and I seem to have become desensitized to the whole experience. The news, in movies or the world in general has left me flippant. People die every day, but I didn't know any of them personally so how can I be expected to mourn. I feel like a robot most of the time, but we all get reminders that we are human, and man do they hurt.
By Craig Johnson5 years ago in Petlife
