A Love Letter To Cafés

It’s the oddest thing: while some have rustic aesthetics that cause them to feel nostalgic and comforted, I’ve always had a place in my heart for a little rundown café. You know the ones, right? Linoleum floors? Vinyl seating? A bunch of very tired looking women running around filling coffee cups and taking orders with steno pads? Those ones.

I love those. Continue reading

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Flash Fiction: Foolish Bravado

An uproar shook the social fabric when the young upstart had challenged the Flame Master to a duel—but that paled in comparison to the reaction when he had fixed the upstart with a haughty glare and nodded in acceptance.

And, by the rules of the Mage Academy, that was enough—that was all that it took.

They set it for twilight. Continue reading

Nightwalker’s Etiquette

Okay. So, as you may know, I stay up until around 5 AM most days. I take my coffee at midnight—and don’t expect to wake up until sometime around lunch. Even later than that, occasionally, depending on how hectic my previous day was and what my work schedule looks like.

But, you may not know I call myself a “nightwalker,” and I know many others like me. Continue reading

Microfiction: New Villain

“Why must I be the evil one?”

The being of pure light looked at me. I had been converted first to human form. My armor was black, and my sword was on fire—and I hated it.

“Because someone needs to be,” the being said, then slowly formed into a person. Nose and ears and such coming in slowly. “I am sorry though—but that’s the way it’s got to be.”

“Why?” Continue reading

A List Of Some Of The Odder Things I’ve Said

So, we’ve already gone over before that I am a crazy person who says things that are odd and confusing and based on my own musings. But, because it is a lot of fun for me, I am going to explain some of the word salads that bubble out of my mouth and invite you, yes you, to try saying them in conversation.

Now, I cannot guarantee anything: but I think you might just learn a bit about the people around you. And, perhaps, yourself.

Or just get funny looks. Continue reading

Microfiction: Children’s Book

The children asked for the story. They sat in a circle around the old man, who squinted at the massive pictures as if they were the smallest of symbols. His voice came out shaky—he’d been a smoker—and without much volume, but the children stared in rapt attention.

They did not need exactly to hear it. They all knew the story well enough. They could all recite it, really, if it came to such a thing. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Crunch

When they had brought Charlie in, when they had told him they were going to get the information out of him, one way or the other, he had no idea that this was the method they were going to use.

His superiors had trained him to not squeal any information even if they were attacking him in the genitalia. But, this, he had never expected something like this. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Sky Tear

Mackenzie had her hood pulled down and her eyes stayed hard on the sidewalk. She ran, but cautiously. Avoiding bumping into anyone. She did not want to risk falling over.

Shadows warped and elongated. It was getting dark fast. This was going to hit right now.

She glanced up, but not too far, and spied a bakery. The patrons of the restaurant were peering past her and would for a very long time. She shoulder-checked open the door, even though it was not locked, and ran for the bathroom. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Most Frantic Of Deadlines

What sleep had he got so far? Is it important? So much to do. Is it important at the end of the day how tired a person is?

Faced with it again, and again—and time was warping around him as he did what he could with the time he had and the chemicals that made it all possible to pound more and more words out in the frantic way of the life that he wanted. Continue reading

Burning Your Candle

I used to be able to push myself to five in the morning, every single day. I did this for months, always hating it, always wishing I did not have to be up that late. But, behold, that was what always happened.

Fucking inescapable.

It’s still happening, and it is my own fault. I’ve probably (but I’m not sure) mentioned this before on the blog, but I subscribe to a thing I call “The Dailies.” They are activities that I must accomplish, no matter how sleepy I am, no matter what, within a cycle of me being awake. Continue reading