Halloween Flash Fiction: Washing Machine

The sound annoys. Irritates me. I can’t stand it. I shout for it to stop. I beg the air, I scream, and it does not stop. Clanking, crushing. Cracking. So much noise. It makes me want to take my skin and yank it down over my ears. Fill my drums with liquid until they pop.

I can’t stand it—I just can’t. The cabinet slamming covers the sound well enough. Back and forth under my forceful hands. Back and forth. Enough force to break something. The last push hurts too much, so I slam my hand on the side of the wood, letting the wet handprint slide down on the mahogany. Continue reading

The Yearly Halloween Article

Let’s talk about Halloween, shall we? Because, yeah, it’s coming upon us, all dripping with gore and guts and sweet things, and I am—despite having not been much of a ghoul the last few rounds—super excited about this year. Normally, I just watch a horror movie with friends, but this time I’ll get more into the “spirit” of things (ha-ha, I’m so original with my humor). Though I am too old and on too strict a diet to go out for candy, I realize that the holiday has something to offer to everyone.

So, I wanted to talk about the biggest part of this event that appeals to me. The main draw of the frightful night. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Scammy

The email looked legit.

Hello sir or madam, I am happy to inform you that you have made so many of billions of dollars. Due to a ridiculous series of tax laws and reformatting of the entire currency system, along with the rising of a dark sorcerer, you are set to receive seventeen billion dollars in the next week. We only need you to enter your bank account data to make the transaction complete. Continue reading

Bored, Quite Bored (And Why That Might Be A Good Thing)

I’m writing this post while bored.

It’s, relatively, not an unpleasant day. I’m outside in the Florida heat, but with a breeze and a stomach full of salted cashews and filtered water.

And as I sit here, I’m thinking about boredom and creativity. It’s an easy test to find an artist: make a person bored. See what they do with what is around them. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Go To The Mountain And See

Though ruffled and abused, the map showed this was the place. This, at the top of the mountain, was the location I’d been told to visit. I spoke to the masters of all the arts, and they said, in one voice, to go to this spot and see what was there. That it would be the most memorable moment of my life.

It didn’t disappoint—except in almost every way possible. Continue reading

David G. Mcdaniel: Two Types Of Readers

Hey, Brandon Scott here. I have a guest post from a friend of mine. He writes books. If you want to read those books, well, follow this link: http://www.teamstarangel.com/. He’s a cool guy, you should give them a look.

And once you’re done with that, let’s get to the article. Continue reading

Why Cooking Is Like Writing

Well, they are both art forms. They both revolve around creating a communication, though only one ends in literal digestion. But I mean beyond that.

I’ve been around this blogging thing for a few years now, and occasionally I’ll come across cooking related posts from a blog predominately focused on writing. And for a while, I found that strange. I know people can have, must have, other interests outside of the written word, but it is almost always cooking they bring up on their blogs. Not an eclectic mix of things. Sure there are some outliers, but the amount of culinary fixation was odd.

Not anymore. Because as I cook more and more, I see how the act of making food is like writing in so many ways. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Party Girl

Her dance moves literally defied physics. She tapped both her feet on the ground at the same time and rose several inches. And drifted back down with a twirl which took her hemline and lifted it to her thighs.

And her arms hugged her body afterward, and she swayed as the surrounding air froze to the slow motion of the dance.

I stood, looking, staring, ogling, at her, and nearly dropped my drink. Nearly let it fall on the glittering tiles. Continue reading