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    Apocalypse Shepherd
    Apocalypse Shepherd
    Apocalypse Shepherd
    Ebook71 pages1 hour

    Apocalypse Shepherd

    By William Calkins

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Apocalypse Shepherd is a book of short stories exploring events and characters in an Apocalyptic, Distopean, supernatural world. Each story has a mixed flavor of genres, sci-fi, literary fiction, bizarro, surrealism. The stories are rich in imagery and flush with quirky characters and twisty plots. Some stories are dark humor while others question sanity and reality. Apocalypse Shepherd will definitely splatter a fresh face on Distopean genre.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilliam Calkins
    Release dateApr 6, 2014
    ISBN9781311571380
    Apocalypse Shepherd
    Author

    William Calkins

    William Calkins has been a professional teacher, artist and musician in and around the Chicago area for over thirty years. Over that time he has followed a creative lifestyle discovering new challenges and improving his powers of observation and intuition. Continuing his passion to create, he has focused on his passion for writing. William now lives on an off-the-grid homestead in Montana and is working on making life simpler. He believes it’s important what you do with the time you have.

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      Book preview

      Apocalypse Shepherd - William Calkins

      Apocalypse Shepherd

      And Other Short Stories

      by William Calkins

      Copyright 2014 William Calkins

      Smashwords Edition

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

      or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

      please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did

      not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to

      Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

      of this author.

      Table of Contents

      #Apocalypse Shepherd

      Getting Angry

      Omega Novelty

      The Gift of Fire

      Epilogue

      Gettin’ in the Pick-up

      The War Zone

      The Sky is Melting

      Dwelling

      Circus Train

      Wishes Do Come True

      The Last Woman at the Pier

      Snow Globe World

      Author Biography

      Apocalypse Shepherd

      It comes again. The last episode happened after I learned my wife and baby daughter had died senselessly.

      ************

      For a moment, a brief moment I don't know where I am. It's like I'm out of dimension, out of body, out of my mind. For a split second I don't reside in my physical form but somewhere outside of it. I have this vague awareness, it's real though, captivating and then it's gone. Then I'm back, sucked back into this dimension, this body, this reality and that's all. It’s over and I’m back in the real world.

      It was only for a moment, a brief moment. A pause that takes no longer than a simple inhale and exhale. I’m alone now and every day is a struggle to do that inhale/exhale thing. I’ve begun talking aloud to myself, to shadows, to no one.

      They say it's not over until the fat lady sings. They say it's not over until it's over... You know what? It's never over. Who were they kiddin' 'cause I'm not laughin' anymore. There's no do over's, there's no reset buttons, there's no extra lives. Now it's only dog eat dog, shyster eat shyster; was there supposed to be a point? Who makes this crap up? I don't think Aesop would've touched this one. There will come a time; so the time comes and this is it? I'm done here. I'm not eatin' it anymore. When you're fed-up, you're fed-fucking-up. Welcome to the Apocalypse.

      My words just ricochet off dead walls. I can't pacify my anger; my sudden ranting outbursts are no longer contained behind a politically correct facade. From secluded rooftop vantage points I witness garbage puked all over the street and what's left of humanity crawling through it. The rooftops provide a respite, the inner stairwell access can be easily booby-trapped for security and the surviving, left-over mouth breathers that try to scale the walls or climb the fire escapes get picked off one at a time. Just like plunking plastic ducks in Tin Pan Alley with a pop gun; only my pop-gun is a fully automatic AK47. I call down to shadows, mocking the deafness that crouches and hides within them.

      A better world through technology. A better life through chemicals. Drink the cool-aid and toast in your Apocalypse. What? Ya want me ta sugar coat it for ya? Hahahahahahaha.

      My sudden manic laugh unsettles even me.

      Live or die is the only choice for anyone now. But it didn't have to be that way; it didn't have to be crude and heartless, cold and violent. Dying. But that's what everyone tacitly went along with. Where did the leaders go, weren't there any adults in the room? All speeches and hand shakes outside, then behind closed doors, all coked-up, sex addicts and greedy, amoral ghouls counting paper souls. Nothing but Banker Gangster Ass Clowns.

      Clowns, Zombies, zombie-clowns.... urban/suburbanites, what's the difference? Annoying, brain dead wastes of life gettin' in the way, fucking things up, takin' a shit on the pavement and then staggering on clueless. That's what's goin' on out there. What are you lookin' for anyway?

      A rhetorical question I stopped asking myself long ago. I descend the rusted fire escape to the Petri-dish pavement below. It's a solitary descent. I'm not looking for partners. Gettin' all touchy-feely complicates things. I prefer life simple now. I walk my own path.

      So, you're lookin' for what- an iambic pentameter to make all the lies and killing seem poetic? What world are you livin' in? What's your reality malfunction? Get a fucking clue bozo, the circus is over, the dog and pony show has packed up and on the train and you're standing there waitin' for someone else to clean up the sawdust and shit. Wake UP! That's a shovel in your hand, not a silver spoon. You wanted fries and ya got extra crispy instead. Are ya happy now?

      I walk down the streets -talking aloud- with my back close to the walls of now abandoned buildings. My AK47 substitutes as my handshake. No more glad-handers, no more lip service. Another figure darts into the open and spots me. He stares my way like a deer caught in headlights. Nothing but a used-to-be paper-pusher whose only toolbox was his wallet. Guys like him let things get out of

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