Judah Mahay, Author
  • Nothingness Waits
    Featured,  Short Stories,  Works

    Nothingness Waits

    You must feel the anger of the skies. Everyone does. Her ever-present glare reminds all below how we neglected her—amber never fading from twilight. Maybe she’s trying to kill you? Maybe we all are trying to kill ourselves? So, just take a breath, a single breath, deep and pure. No, seriously. Now…just take…a…breath. Let the acid burn truth. Now, walk away from this. Step off this porch, your uncle’s porch. Nothingness waits. No, let’s be clear, it’s your porch now, isn’t it? Throat dry, the sky wet. Acid in the rain bites more than the usual–tiny spikes prick the exposed skin of your shoulders. The clouds tinted red, too common…

  • Featured,  Poems,  Works

    Chasing Snow

    Caught with fingertips Into droplets, These streaking diamonds Recount memories That can never be reclaimed. The banks besmear In dirt and dust, Render to mud What the past Recalls pristine, Maybe even divine, In its blinding sheen. I run from that which Chills with a remembering warmth. Now settling into a world Mired with discomfort But one I sought to claim At this zenith I know I shall prevail. Let this snow part In mystical ways On these slanted hills So I can see the crystalline Multiplicity of the days ahead. Let this snow part . . . To enrapture me In its blistering light. Sometimes pain Is the only…

  • Featured,  Short Stories,  Works

    In The Beginning Was Logos

    Published: Sick Lit Magazine, 7/27/2016. In the beginning was not a primordial mass. In the beginning was knowledge. In the beginning was logos. And in the end, there was nothing. All knowledge is outside time. What if in the beginning, you were logos? What if you knew that if you told anyone you would finally die? Would you even want to live if everyone you met could not retain the knowledge of ever meeting you? This is your life. You are still alive. Different eyes, different skin, different scents, but you are you, and you are logos. Can you live? Do you want to live? Will you tell them the…

  • Featured,  Short Stories,  Works

    The Human Quotient

    The human quotient fractures, lost, pitted against itself. Time repeats. The past and the present are the future. The hum of dissecting life reverberates. :: Replay core protocol :: We found new life. We left behind ourselves. Look back. Never forget. :: stop playback ::