Flash Fiction: Clown Thoughts

Fern was convinced that a clown was standing at the foot of his bed when he fell asleep each night. “This was not rational” his parents would tell him. His doctors, doctors for both his brain and his body, all said the cause was something deeply wrong with him. Continue reading

Hitler’s Paintings

Did you know that Hitler, yes, that Hitler—history’s greatest monster—was a painter? That he was a creator of art?

It’s a bit of a head fuck.

But, no matter how odd to consider, this fact works as a good starting place for a discussion about something that has been bothering me for a long time. Also, I’m sorry to say, if you are reading this think piece and expecting an answer at the end then you are going to be disappointed. Continue reading

Microfiction: Retry, Then Retry Some More

All Cynthia wanted was to date this guy. It was her only immediate goal. But the universe decidedly had other ideas in mind. She was not aware of this, of course, not at first, but she got the gist quickly.

For instance, on her way out of her neighborhood, her car exploded underneath her feet. One second her foot pushed down the pedal, and the next a fireball erupted and seared off her everything. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Hey, Honey, Have A Look At This

Austin’s voice came so clear from the basement it made Sam look up from her magazine spread over the kitchen counter and take a step toward the sound. Her pink bathrobe swished around her ankles.

“Yeah, what is it, honey?”

“Come down, I just found something…something cool.” Continue reading

An Introvert Artist’s Attempt At Being More Open With His Audience

Here’s my problem: I’m scared to be more personal. But, like any relationship, like any friendship, you must be open with people—or you will not get anywhere. And, being open, means being open to the possibility of pain. You can’t be emotionally hurt by people if you are not exposed enough to be loved.

And, well, blogging is not unlike that. I am, right now, doing what I am comfortable with. Sharing what of me I feel I can. And sending it out there for people to see.

But, with that said, I’m not super comfortable with this social media world we live in right now. I don’t mind sharing in person. I’m an open individual generally—were we to talk face-to-face—but I also know what a danger the internet can be. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: That’ll Be Fifty Cents

Cents went in the machine. Out popped a jar of nutrient-rich slime, and the next customer came up to claim his meals for the next week. The slime tasted…fine, sat in the stomach fine, and would keep you alive.

It was also the only thing to eat—the only thing anyone ate. And thus, ash on John’s mouth. John hated the stuff with a burning passion beyond what a person his age should be capable of feeling. His mother had spoon fed it to him in the usual airplane style as a toddler, and even then, it felt like a kamikaze attack on his soul. Continue reading

Microfiction: Moving In, Moving Out

Wednesday recalls moving in and remembers the moment she wanted to move out. She sees them both as the last of the boxes leave the room. All over the world Wednesday’s gone, seen, and done so much. But, still, each house, no matter how small a time spent there, was a memory, and nothing closes a memory like the last item out of the room.

“I’ll miss it here,” she says and knows she is lying and telling the truth all at the same time. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Was She There?

The ceiling spins, and the fan stays so damn still. My stomach is a churning, burning, mass of something or other that is not bile but tastes a heck of a lot like it. My legs do not go the right way, not the way they should be—the muscles relaxed to the point I’m unsure I can stand. Continue reading

The Newest Fear For People

As a horror writer, I think about what scares people. And, in the new world we live in, the thing people seem most anxious about, if not outright terrified of, is technology.

And I think I have one big clue about why we get so worried, collectively, about machines. It’s the same reason we fear monsters and demons and ghosts.

Loss of control. Continue reading