© Andrew Bowers and Requiem for the Damned, 2018.
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Author Archives: Requiem for the Damned
Chapter 8* A warm bar of sun infiltrating a gap in the heavy curtains fell across my face and lit up the backs of my gummy eyelids. I hauled myself up in the old bed, its springs protesting loudly as … Continue reading
FIRST INTERMISSION He hitchhiked the dark highways of the Midwest with a hazy notion of ending up in California but, as days bled into weeks and weeks into months, he only ever headed wherever the truckers who picked him up … Continue reading
Chapter 6* “So, this lady in Montreal. Julianne was it? Was she the only one?” I knew the question was coming but it still made me feel my pulse in my scalp, and I started wordlessly opening and closing my … Continue reading
Chapter 5* With complete loss of hydraulic control and non-functional control surfaces, the only way I was able to keep the 747-jumbo airborne at all was by applying nuanced engine thrusts to pitch the nose up into a lurching climb … Continue reading
Chapter 4* I had known all along that my parents weren’t really my parents. Not only did I bear zero resemblance to either of them, they were both Viking white while I was perpetually bronzed, my skin the approximate hue … Continue reading
Chapter 3* My parents had been driving back from the city after one of my father’s post-traumatic stress disorder sessions at the VA hospital. This was in the days before PTSD had even been coined as a term of art … Continue reading
Chapter 2* “Ve’ll be zerrre soon, Kyaptain,” said my relentlessly young Uber driver in a thick Russian accent. He was blinking at me nervously in the rearview, face aglow in the dashboard lights, as if I was a cop who … Continue reading
Chapter 1 My license having been revoked pending my sentencing hearing, I sat in the bar car of the train lazily roaming westwards from New York City. It would stop at every speck on the map between there and my … Continue reading
“…and that’s exactly when all the lights came back on!” my older brother Phil chortled, ironing the crimson tablecloth on either side of his plate with large powerful hands topped with patches of rugged black hair, a thick gold bracelet … Continue reading