e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Kevin Johnson Murillo Smiles walked into the apartment looking exhausted. “Where have you been?” screeched Kiki. But he didn’t say anything. He shambled to the table and plopped down onto a chair. He muttered something under his breath.
by Kevin Johnson Murillo The teacher fed me worms. Innocently enough, I was convinced I had a case on my hands. I walked up to strangers down hallways of the university and showed them my fingers, wriggled them, and wrinkled my nose. They walked away revolted. I told Professor XXY. my theory, that all caterpillars […]
by Kevin Johnson Murillo I watch the room by candlelight. The sounds are gone. Only echoes of shadows are left on the blinds to keep out the light from inside the room. Occasional footsteps outside the room in the hall connecting it to other rooms. I hope not to encounter any of those beasts tonight.
by Kevin Johnson Murillo Regent He cut the apple with an umbrella. The apple was shaped like a pear. Actually, it was a hat. An old lady was wearing it. She wasn’t pleased. Loud reproaches. The constable and his cronies swiftly arrested him before he could protest. Swoon of quick vehicles, headlights. Then not-so-quick vehicles. […]
by Kevin Johnson Murillo The Beggar The Giver “The fact of the matter is I have nothing to offer you, my pockets are empty, my shirt coat is empty, my stomach is empty. If I had anything to offer you, I’d give it away freely without a moment’s hesitation. I’ve never been one to cling […]