(It’s better to give than to receive, right? Well, since it’s Christmas and all–have one more re-post on me. My favorite Christmas story I’ve ever written. Originally posted December 10th, 2016.)
It’s getting cold even here in Florida, so I thought I’d write something a little joyful and a little warm.
I call it:
Being Happy In The Morning
Too early to do this, Charles concluded. Too early in the morning. But Charles would not have it any other way. Continue reading
(Originally posted December 2nd, 2017.)
Are you busy?
Uh no. Hey
Hi! How are you?
Wht happened? Continue reading
(Originally April 8th, 2015.)
Writers create people.
People they control.
But sometimes, those people rebel.
A story about stories called:
Jimmy Twostep was a good man; he paid his bills when he could, and loved his wife and child dearly. He lived a rather normal life, a mundane life. But today was special, today was good: the sun was shining, the breeze was a gentle pleasure, and the air smelled of flowers in bloom. It was by all regards quite the perfect day for Jimmy. It was a shame then, that on this beautiful Friday, he was destined to die.
“Wait, what!?” Continue reading
(Originally Posted February 27th, 2016.)
Oh yeah, this is going to be weird. Strap in folks.
I call it:
Let’s Picture A Room
Let’s paint a picture shall we? Let’s go with a living room. It’s a tad hazy at first, though. Since I didn’t give you any specifics. Or you just subbed in a living room like the one you have, or what a friend has. But you can see a living room now. You should see it clearly. Continue reading
I’d never learned to count past ten, so I’m not quite sure what age I am. We keep marks on the door and the walls, with chalk and dirt and mud. And fecal matter. So, if we ever learned how long a year is, we could figure it out, and then we’d know our ages.
Until then though, I am somewhere past ten. And for the last five of that ten, I’ve been in this room. They bring me birthday gifts, and I counted them. Each one was a slightly larger sack. I wear them until they are too small. Continue reading
Something was off with her footsteps. They sounded wrong. Jessica could not place why. She wandered, mostly bare legs moving through the subtle air-conditioning breeze, and her long silk shirt hung over her shorts.
“Hey, mom, are you home?” she asked, then stood ultra-still, and waited for some indication of a living being. Continue reading
Eric could not understand why no one had considered dipping potato chips in ketchup. They were essentially French fries, so there was not much a difference in flavor, not much of an issue—so why didn’t more people do it?
“What, do you love her?” Fae demanded, spreading out her arms. “Do you want to fuck her, huh? Have her over and let her sleep in my spot?” Continue reading
Among the shelves, I was not sure I saw it. I glanced, and I glimpsed the piercing eyes of yellow and darkness. But, only for a second, and that made me hopefully unsure.
Because it would not be the first time I saw something I could not possibly claim was real. It would not be the only thing I was sure, in the moment, but only in the moment, I had seen. Continue reading
A skeleton laid, mostly in one piece, on the lawn of Old Sean’s property, and the kids of the town wondered why.
There were different theories, as there always were, but most of them came to the agreement it was, regardless of why, not a good idea to step on the yard. Despite being a pleasant, almost emerald green, the blades of grass held malice. Continue reading
The fire was warmer than Henry thought it ever could be. This close, it was something beyond heat; it was a dry pain, a wrapping skin melt. And he couldn’t move away from it, that option was even more dangerous. The shiny metal this close to his neck promised a much warmer and wetter pain should he make the attempt.
“You didn’t like my story, huh?” Finn asked, pressing the knife closer. With the light casting on his face, he was the second brightest thing in the forest of barren trees. A fox ran by and cracked twigs, and both boys–even if not consciously–noticed it.
“It wasn’t scary,” Henry replied, his eyes wide. “But I didn’t not like it.”
“What’s wrong with my ghost story? You want to see scary? I can show you scary!” Continue reading
Outside the room, the world starless, empty and cold. Inside the room, the man paced, back and forth—with little idea of what was happening outside. These two facts, as I have presented them, are all you need to understand. Continue reading
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
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
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