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I Found This Story in the Gutter

There's a meme going around the office (i.e., the Facebook). It shows a picture of Hemingway and a quote about writing. "There's nothing to writing," Papa says. "All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

And there's all kinds of ways to make the cut.

I Found This Story in the Gutter by Mike Miner

I found this story in the gutter. A rough gem, I pried it like a dirty pearl from between two garbage cans. I held it carefully, not wanting to get the poison on me. I took it home, scrubbed it clean, bandaged its wounds, set its bones. Avoiding its bite all the while, I polished and waxed its rattling tail. Its bat wings could never be mended. I sat it up. It cursed me, spat at me, claimed it couldn't breathe here. Take me back, it begged. It flopped like a fish out of water, my trashy story. It gurgled as I tried to strangle it, end its misery, but then its eyes opened wide, a smile on its foul face. A chuckle. I shivered as it started to grow. My sharpest kitchen knife found its throat, a crooked slash made by a shaky hand did the trick, gave me what I needed: blood. The smell of almonds as I squeezed its life onto this page.

Mike Miner lives and occasionally writes in Connecticut with his wife and two daughters. His stories can be found in the anthologies Pulp Ink 2 and Lost Children: Protectors, or online in places like Spinetingler, Narrative, PANK Magazine, Pulp Metal Magazine, Shotgun Honey and Solstice: A Magazine of Diverse Voices. His twitter handle is @skyeminer.