When they had brought Charlie in, when they had told him they were going to get the information out of him, one way or the other, he had no idea that this was the method they were going to use.
His superiors had trained him to not squeal any information even if they were attacking him in the genitalia. But, this, he had never expected something like this. Continue reading
Of one thing they were certain: they were not driving themselves that night. On the table was more booze than a man could feasibly drink, more wine than a Grecian of the olden, way olden days, could ingest—and they drank it like water. An alcoholic would have a pain in his liver at the sight.
And they were having a blast. Continue reading
“We are not real living beings, you know,” Caffeine said, then jerked his head to the side, looking at the door to the room.
“Yeah—but it doesn’t much matter. It’s nice being as we are, at least,” Alcohol said, and sat down on his chair. He stared up at the other two and smiled goofily.
“It matters a little bit,” Nicotine said, parting back his ginger hair. “I, for one, like to be flesh.”
“Oh, well…so do I, but that does not mean that we are.” Caffeine’s words came out rushed and flowing—like he had rehearsed it, but not well, and was trying to get them out as fast as possible before he forgot.
Alcohol laughed. “I did not get that at all.” Continue reading
I’m guessing some would recommend I don’t write about this, but, well, you all know I’m eccentric as it is—so, fuck it. Writers already have the stigma of being a weird bunch, but you’ve heard, likely, all the usual shenanigans—so, I’m doing you one better.
Not just researching murder methods, talking to people who they make up, or being totally willing to do dangerous/stupid things for the sake of a story: nah, I’ve got a set of much more unique quirks.
And it involves words and language. 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
I realize this sounds pretentious, but I don’t think most people end up in the scenarios I do. And that’s sometimes a problem.
Because, advice relies upon shared experiences, and I often don’t mesh with others in that regard. So, I had to come up with a plan for when I can’t always find someone with an answer. And, well, it might not be a great long-term solution, but what I came up with is to laugh. Continue reading
Ahh…
He thought.
As it came upon him.
The days,
Filled with more,
Than he could stomach. Continue reading
If you are reading this, and consider yourself a supremely serious person, then I have a thing to say to you.
Lighten up!
Honestly, just smile. Continue reading
(Originally posted April 2nd, 2016)
Nobody ever said creating art was easy.
A flash fiction called:
—
“AHHHH!” the man screamed at the empty sheet of paper, making it move in a slight, wavering fashion on the mahogany wood table.
He reared back, his face taking on a bluish tinge, and he breathed in and out. The man sounded, vaguely, like a squeaky toy caught underneath a car’s tire. Continue reading
The email looked legit.
Hello sir or madam, I am happy to inform you that you have made so many of billions of dollars. Due to a ridiculous series of tax laws and reformatting of the entire currency system, along with the rising of a dark sorcerer, you are set to receive seventeen billion dollars in the next week. We only need you to enter your bank account data to make the transaction complete. Continue reading
Hello Internet,
You and I have been friends for a long time now. We’ve been through things together, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.
But, now that I know you so well, I feel there are some things I need to tell you. Some things that, maybe, you could improve? Continue reading
I saw the girl sitting there, crying with soft sobs. My train would not arrive right away, and even if it does, I can’t let her sit all alone.
“Hey, are you alright?”
She sniffles, and moves her blond hair out of the way. “I can’t find my mom and dad.”
“What do they look like?”
“They had red sweaters on like mine. I miss them…”
She bursts into fresh tears. I frown, and look around. A few feet off in the distance, I see two adults–one man, one woman–pushing through the crowd.
Leaning down, I pat her on the head. She looks at me and I point them out.
“There, there. They’re there.” Continue reading
So, for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter, I somewhat recently sent out a series of themed tweets called #philosophicalgiftbaskets. In these I attempted to explain complicated philosophy via the miracle of gift baskets.
It went about as well as one could expect.
Here, are those tweets.
—
Welcome to Solipsism.
The gift basket does not actually exist.
#philosophicalgiftbaskets Continue reading
Panic Level: Very Low
“Ow, ow. Ugh, I should have stretched my hands more. Dammit…now I can’t finish that fight scene. This is such a stupid first world problem.”
Panic Level: Low
“Come on! I need to write! I didn’t make my word target today. Why does this always have to happen right in the middle of a part I was looking forward to!?” Continue reading
#Whoretip
Welcome to my worlds!
Life, Writing, Reading and Gargoyles...not necessarily in that order
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