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…

  • Short Stories,  Works

    In the Future Sense

    You assumed too much. The world would be fine without you. In this, you were dreadfully wrong. The stars did not sing your praise. The Earth did not revel in your glory. The seas did not churn in exaltation. None shall know of you, but all shall owe you. It is of the passing of your days that all shall be made true, and light shall once again shine. So, as they will proclaim, and we must say, “let the light live on.” You will awaken, as is the norm on any sun-streaked day. Barefooted, you will wiggle your toes seeking the floor, to be grounded by at least something.…

  • Short Stories,  Works

    Death Wish

    The rush of wind forms into words. “If you could know what it is to die, to experience it, to be one with it, would you?” The shadows draw together into the long strands of nimble shape. Cloaked at once, but then reveals the face. Fine lines betray not an age.

  • 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…