Flash fiction AI can't imitate.
“Do you remember when we were real?”
“Not really.”
“You know, me neither. I don’t think I remember anything at all.”
“No one does. No one…does…”
— Bastian Espada
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“Well that’s all we can muster. That’s the one commonality between all the members of our species — we can ever just hold a single thought at a time,” the man reached underneath his glasses and plucked an eye booger, then proceeded to stare at it . “A single bloody thought, that’s all we are, at any given time, that’s all.”
“Are we really now? You realize the implications of this— erm — curious ontological paradigm, yes? For instance, if two people were to hold identical thoughts in parallel…”
“Indeed. I reckon, that for a brief moment, they’d be essentially the same person.”
— Bastian Espada
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'Tis one of those days when time seems more interested in mocking rather than passing. When the seconds punch up, the hours down, and the minutes just kinda sit there and take it.
And five o’clock might as well be a million eternities away…
— Bastian Espada
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There exists a broken clock in a broken house, it doesn’t tick and it doesn’t tock. It’s pendulum makes bitter attempts to swing above a ragged floor — uneven and marred by patches of mold and hoary footprints.
The wind blows through the jagged edges of former windows, then caresses the barely-hinged remnant of a door — causing it to slam against its former self.
The cuckoo bird bursts forward, it screams.
— Bastian Espada
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The meat machine is
And ponders the same as all
The sun shines and burns
— Bastian Espada
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“The court finds itself in agreement with the defense's position that the defendant has had no control over his nurture nor his nature. Therefore, this court finds the defendant not guilty of all charges on account of being human.”
The judge gaveled.
The defendant wept.
The victim’s father shot them.
— Bastian Espada
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Thirteen angels danced on the head of a poorly-sterilized pin.
It was used in an autonomous clandestine domestic amateur nipple-piercing operation.
Everyone involved died three days later.
— Bastian Espada
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“Ah! Magnificent.” The man grabbed his date by the arm. “See, the genius of this piece lies in how it deliberately engages in the disjunctive perturbation of the liminal qualities of the object-semantic space, enhancing the motif of dangerous alertness. It subverts the mechanical purity that at first seems to, yet ultimately fails, to materialize.”
“Uhm, dude, I think that’s just a fire alarm.”
— Bastian Espada
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“Close your eyes, breathe. Focus only on the sound of my voice,” the woman whispered.
The man — who was lying on the floor of his living room — felt the tension in his body evaporate.
“Let the outside world melt away.”
The man drifted into the ether, slowly becoming one with the world…
“Fuck!” he yelled, an hour later, when he opened his eyes.
All his shit was gone.
— Bastian Espada
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Monkey see
Monkey do,
Monkey feel
Monkey too.
— Bastian Espada
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