Jose Molina
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Stories (2)
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The Creature
Laws, rules, commands, mandates, measures, regulations… Engraved on myself like the loving kiss of a mother, like the warmth of her lips, like comforting memories of a childhood that I skipped. I must obey. My existence is as futile as trying to find an explanation for it.
By Jose Molina5 years ago in Futurism
Hawk Roosting
“It is safe in here,” the mouse repeated to itself as the eternal chorus of a song stuck in its head. “It’s safe…” The place was dark and damp, a safe den where it lived and where it found the ideal refuge from his menacing claws; his deadly grip that could end its existence. He did it with its family, one by one, tortured them; decapitated them. It could still hear them screeching shouts of resistance, “creeeee! creeeee!,” their last sound as they unsuccessfully tried to climb the peak of life, their lives. That tree trunk was its home, a place where it was born and it refused to leave. Home, the place where you are supposed to be happy and unafraid…
By Jose Molina5 years ago in Fiction
