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
“That wasn’t chicken,” she said, standing behind him as he washed off the plate. The remnants of meat slid away, to be caught in the drain cover.
“Uh…what?” he said. “Then what was it?”
“I don’t know.” Continue reading
It came to this, as it always did, as the screaming of the choirs heralded. They’d been chasing her for the past week, ruining her life one life taken at a time. She was sick of her journey as a hero; she was sick of being beaten by fate itself and taken along on this trip without her consent.
She was sick of it, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. Continue reading
He had his hand against his cheek, and his eyes looked tired—even with the candlelight in them.
“So,” she began, and he held up his hand.
He had this odd, multi-band ring.
“No, none of that. Be more open, would you?” Continue reading
Hope floated over her and wished that she could just tell her. Wished she could manifest and regale her with all the new things that would happen. All the beauty and joy.
But, there Karen was, for now, crying in a shopping center. Hiding in the changing room with no interest in putting on the swimsuit that she had taken from the racks. Trying to not make too much sound even as her heart broke at the seams and into so many pieces. Continue reading
“Why must I be the evil one?”
The being of pure light looked at me. I had been converted first to human form. My armor was black, and my sword was on fire—and I hated it.
“Because someone needs to be,” the being said, then slowly formed into a person. Nose and ears and such coming in slowly. “I am sorry though—but that’s the way it’s got to be.”
“Why?” Continue reading
Rain clouds part when she is around, and yet I do not love her. And, yet, I so love her. Complicated feelings, all of them. Shifting. Sifting. Sliding. Continue reading
“Do you really have experience eating babies?”
The demon leaned forward and smoke spewed out from his nose—threatening to set off the sprinkler system.
“Tons.”
“Next.” Continue reading
Wednesday recalls moving in and remembers the moment she wanted to move out. She sees them both as the last of the boxes leave the room. All over the world Wednesday’s gone, seen, and done so much. But, still, each house, no matter how small a time spent there, was a memory, and nothing closes a memory like the last item out of the room.
“I’ll miss it here,” she says and knows she is lying and telling the truth all at the same time. Continue reading
“They say the percentage of redheads in this country is really tiny,” Hebert said to the woman as she handed over the cheap bagel, the near-it’s-expiration-date cream cheese tube, and the coffee with a price in the two digits.
“Is that so?” she said, sounding bored. “Well, I guess that’s cool. Enjoy your food.” Continue reading
I cannot do things to people with my mind. Stop asking. It is not the case. Just ask my mother. Do you think she would have grounded me, ever, even considered doing that if I was capable of such things?
You are being absurd. You are being ridiculous. Continue reading
Not everyone is cut out for the hero lifestyle in this fantasy microfiction called:
—
Grand Master Tamer J. Ward stood off a few tens of feet from the battle and surveyed the situation. Examining the two new recruits.
It was as he expected: they were terrible. Continue reading
(Originally posted October 17th, 2015)
“I get to play. I get to play. Wrong note. Wrong note. Wrong note. Wrong note. Wrong note.” His little fingers leave red marks on the white keys.
“Hahahahaha. Don’t you love the songs I play?”
His wrists dislocate. The music gets faster. Continue reading
(Originally posted January 3rd, 2015)
So far I have only been writing flash fiction on this site, but today I present my first foray into it’s much more concise cousin: Microfiction
What is microfiction? Well, I’m glad you asked:
It’s a subset of flash fiction—those super short stories typically told in 1,000 words or less. Definitions vary, but for the most part, microfiction is any story told in 300 words or less, and could even be as short as a few words.
–Gayle Towell, Litreactor.com
And so, here’s mine. It’s short, it’s somber, and it’s called:
Alcoholic Continue reading
May I present a short, strange story about a thankless job.
It’s called:
We rise with the sun. They rise with the night. And the first step is always to make sure they do not breach the earth. We feed the soil. We water them as best we can. But they still grow out of the ground at the rate they do. So we chop off the exposed parts and force them back. Continue reading
#Whoretip
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