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

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

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

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

Flash Fiction: Unintended Consequences Are For Suckers

In the attic sat a mysterious typewriter. In the attic stood a boy and a girl. All young—except the typewriter. The typewriter was old, as typewriters tend to be.

“So, that’s the one your grandmother talked about?” the boy said, and walked toward it, ducking underneath some webs.

“Yeah—but don’t touch it!” She reached out to stop him but her fingers missed by inches. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Crime Scene (Part 3 of 3)

(And, here it is, the conclusion to the three part story. If you haven’t read them, here’s part 1 and part 2.)

“So… if you’re done faking…?” was all I managed to say, as a cough hit my lungs.

“Yep,” she answered. “Two came in, we picked you. Once you breathed us…ha. Done for good.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Crime Scene (Part 2 of 3)

If you haven’t read it, here’s a link to part 1.

For everyone else, let’s continue, shall we?


That caught me off guard, and she nodded like I’d answered, told her whatever it was she wanted forgiveness for was okay. But, after a second, I just repeated my question: “So, what was it then?”

She answered without a pause. “It’s a biomechanical species of swarm insect. Though it acts as a single unit. Has a short lifespan, so every time its population grows low it latches onto one host and invades, repurposing organic material to make more and more of themselves until it can burst out without an issue.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Crime Scene (Part 1 of 3)

I haven’t felt squeamish in years. So, you must understand my confusion when I came upon the newest scene of death and dismemberment and something lurched in my stomach. A few thoughts went through my head as I clutched with one hand on my gut. I assumed the sponge steak I had made had been bad or something of that ilk. That I had failed to drink enough sim-water.

Only after another second I realized the truth: I was grossed out, disgusted. My partner did not look at me as she passed by my frozen figure into the living room, and so I did not have to explain my situation as she kneeled next to what used to be a person. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Fingers

Don’t take your fingers for granted. I present a strange tale called:

The Fingers


This whole thing began, as many hauntings do, when I came across a dead body. I should clarify that, though, by saying that while this was by no means a normal occurrence, I was still not as concerned as some might have been in my situation. I’d seen some magical corpses in my time. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Beyond The Path

More than one child finds a world in the hedge. First Benjamin did, and now, another kid gets their turn to decide.

I call this sequel of sorts:

Beyond The Path


“I really would not do that,” he said, and the girl spun on her expensive shoes. She gave the boy with the odd clothes and the curving nose a hard glare.

“Why, are there monsters?” the girl asked. She held up her pocket knife, and grinned. “Because I’m ready for those.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: A New Place (Part 2 of 2)

Time to continue our journey to a new place with the second part (click here for the first part) of a flash fiction called:

A New Place


Benjamin opened his mouth and only uttered out the simple question of: “Who are you?”

The boy crossed his arms and swayed from side to side. He was wearing a strange outfit upon further inspection: a purple and yellow pair of pants, and a deep crimson red shirt. All the clothe looked threadbare and worn out.

“I’m not sure, actually. I tried to figure it out one time: but I had a headache.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: A New Place (Part 1 of 2)

In this flash fiction, beyond the hedge: there is a world. A world containing a choice, a boy, and something…off.

I call it:

A New Place

Benjamin Nosh, age thirteen, stared at the gap in the wall of hedges. He was sure he’d never seen it there before, not in all the days he’d walked home from school.

He leaned forward, peering inside, but only found a second, further away wall of hedges stretching in either direction. Benjamin, back when he lived in Illinois, had spent some time in a corn maze at a festival, and this looked much the same. Like a hallway made of foliage. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Against The Wall

If I did not have a gun, this man would worry me. With the gun, I was only on professional high alert.

Perhaps a description would be useful in this, a reference point to the creature—once human.

He had the usual marks—dark green veins around his mouth. Had the standard shadows at his feet dancing and snapping at things. Each time they touched me I got cold.

He also wore a black suit. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Dark Zone

In a town like this, you learn not to drink from the water fountains. This lesson, among many others, came with living in a Dark Zone. We are one of the towns you hear about in horror stories. We have a curse from someone or something always popping up around once a month.

For most of us, life is short. But you can manage to survive longer if you bother to be smart about what you are doing.

You must be self-reliant, because it’s not like you will get much help. The thing about Dark Zones is that we can’t communicate out of it to anywhere but other Dark Zones. If the type of phenomena we regularly experience ever reached the attention of the mainstream media, it would change the world. If a single person escaped after being pulled in, we might have the entire country’s military come down to purge the place like a zit on the fabric of reality.

But we can’t, so they don’t. Continue reading