Vultures traumatic stories

lukegreenwood Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
They clung to our kitchen table like Vultures Waiting for mother to bring her goods


They clung to our kitchen table like Vultures

Waiting for mother to bring her goods

Earlier nodding, nodding, nodding.

Nodding now done, wanting

Faces stern, feverish, opiate glare

pupils empty, brows bent into a grim facade

A young man, from another world

Lands on our door, seeking our wanton neighbor

Old school friends

He has a bottle in hand, a bonus shot glass

Shrink wrapped to the top, a thinly veiled

Incentive to drink poison

The vultures hiss and grunt

Invite him to stay, he has what they want

They always want. Voids. Cavernous.

Like the pits in their eyes.

The quarry turns to me, he’s happy to stay

And share a drink with me

But I can see

the twist in their smiles

I’ve seen them before

there is no denial

This alien has come

from a world that trusts

Where good people abound,

and rarely fuss

Over trivial things

like a shared drink

Look at their crooked beaks!

for fuck’s sake!


Dark vulture barks “a game of poker? The glass the prize?”

Lewd eyes darting at my girl, myself and his fellow pale vulture

Smirks abound, I bend my lips into my own facade

Lest I become prey

The game begins, albeit having already begun

The young man fills their cups, talons grip his hands

To fill them fuller. Never enough.

The young man crows

of his newest possession

Like most young men do

A sports motorcycle

Brand new

I can see the Vultures

chortle and quip

At the expense of the mark

Contrive with each sip

The boy is oblivious

and now intoxicated

He has no idea

how he is now fated

I turn to my girl, she knows like I do

But both not knowing, what we should do (what could we do?)

Only both being teens ourselves

Her bulge of motherhood showing

I’m concerned for her health

The quarry exclaims “I’ve won” “I’ve won”

The pale vulture swings the bottle.

The quarry cries out “what have I done?!”

The dark vulture splits a knuckle.

On his face. sneering an imitation

“what have I done?!”

Prey moans “you can have the glass”

Pale vulture clears the table with his face

Prey crumples, sinking into the floor

“look what you’ve done you weak dog!”

“You’re making a mess”

“let’s clean you up faggot”

“we should get you a dress”

Dark vulture drags Prey into the bath

Pale vulture watches on sniggering

“I don’t understand what I’ve done?!”

“you’re meant to be getting clean, you dirty cunt”

“shut the fuck up, who cares what you’ve done”

Metallic scented

pools of crimson

Hands and feet track

the kitchen floor

We can both hear him screaming

And the vultures caw

She begins to try to mop the mess

Their talons drag him back through the kitchen

“my keys are next door” we hear prey confess

The vultures demand he fetch them

Dark vulture burrows a hole in my face

Instinct has taught me grin and hold its gaze

“you know the weak dog deserves what he gets”

Dark vulture’s world is one where kindness gets no praise

Prey, now bent and broken

Has made his escape

The vultures, follow soon, make no mistake

We hear loud noise and screaming

Emanating from next doors kitchen

We both walk to the window

Dark vulture holding our neighbor’s stepfather down

Spread eagled on the kitchen table

While pale vulture swings a bike helmet on his skull

My girl and I turn to each other, shock driven out thought and emotion

Nothing to do

But clean up

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