Microfiction: The Tactical Explosion

Technically, they did all of it legally. Everyone was moved far enough away that they weren’t in any danger. Businesses and workers and the population of the town were given fair amounts of money for their trouble—so, really, it didn’t feel like the gleeful act of mischief that Herbert wanted it to be. Continue reading

Microfiction: Mic Dropping

Amidst the violence, when the shady deals were just being struck, and the drugs hitting streams of blood at the rate of a brain burst, he plugged in his instrument and warmed up his other physical one. The microphone crackled against his breath, and he sang a few languid notes. Continue reading

Another Link Between Horror And Comedy

Oft-repeated statements highlighting the similarities of horror and comedy in terms of their emotional requirements and polarizing nature aside—there is something they have in common. Something only someone who experiences them a lot would know, or, at least, would know intimately. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Chips And Dip

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

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

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: 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