Poem: What’s Left

I’d forgotten about you.

I took you, put you in there.

That closet. Shut away.

What did you even feed on while you were there?

I gave you no more bitterness.

No more sorrow.

How could you still even exist? Continue reading

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Microfiction: A Quick Joke

Scans show nothing wrong with Yang, but, still, he is there.

“Look, I’m sure you have wonderful insurance, Yang, but this is gone too far.”

Yang crosses his arms over his chest. He’s a small man but has a large frown. “Are you telling me you do not want more business? It’s a dumb thing to deny service to a repeat customer.” Continue reading

The Battle For Books

Being a writer in 2017 is not easy. We have competition and not just from our fellow wordsmiths. How can a book compete with Netflix and Hulu and movies? I mean, I love books, duh, and I read a lot of them, but even I am a lover of movies. How could you not love movies? They’re so good lately. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Foam Sword

One could not overstate the significance of the foam sword. Perhaps, in the entire history of the room, and the house’s various occupants through the years, the foam sword was the most important thing to ever grace those four walls. For one, it tied the room together nicely; for another, it made several religions with its very presence. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Light Underneath The Door

In the dark of his room, he sits and sees the light that comes out from underneath a door. Not a light is on in his room, not even the usually on computer screen. His head hurts, throbs even, and the darkness is the only thing that makes the pain even slow, even lessen a little. But, he also lives alone, and that light does not make sense. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Uncertainty In The Workplace

The higher-ups of the company did not deem it necessary to interview the beings who quit out of the job. But, when it came to Jerald Punch, Employee of the Month six months running, they had to know why he would leave the game so young.

“Is it the pay?” asked the first, his eyeglasses covering the deep embers that should be human eyes. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Forgot

Westin did not recognize where he was. The walls of silver, and the floor of deep magenta, and the uniform screens of solid yellow dotting the walls, all did not match any familiar location.

And, adding to the issue, sitting up proved to be quarrelsome. His feet would not function, and it was only with some serious effort across his stomach, and a flailing, pushing motion of his hands, that he did rise and sit. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Do You Really Need Sleep?

“You do know I do need to sleep, right?” he asked, peering up at her. With her hair forming a halo around her face, Gertrude looked like some mixture of angel and a trickster god—her countenance round and full of mischief.

“Oh, I don’t know—sleep might not matter all that much, actually. Did you ever try not sleeping?” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Tasteless Meal

Jess examined the bowl of white something or other and looked up at her friend.

“So, what do you think of it?” Heather asked.

“I mean…” Jess said and then bit her lower lip. “It is by far the most unique piece of food I have ever had.” Continue reading

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