Category: Fiction
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Calvin, in a downpour, in the dark, outdrove his headlights. If an animal wandered into the road, he would have zero seconds to avoid splattering it across the pavement. The wipers provided a slideshow, and his eyes strained, tracing the broken line of yellow rectangles. He’d forgone passing a semi so he could watch its…
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Cul-de-sac Jim didn’t trudge on his route. Trudging might indicate he didn’t enjoy his job. He loved the walking, the fresh air, the wind, sleet, rain and snow. He even didn’t really mind the dogs. Most of all, he loved the solitude and the freedom. He didn’t miss desks. No TPS reports. No micromanaging or…
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(unedited) The little gray plastic tab locking the screen in place didn’t want to cooperate. Connor stopped, glanced back over his shoulder. The loud voices seeped through the walls, beneath the small crack between the bottom of his door and the carpet, into his chest. The cold wind rushing in from outside chilled his skin,…
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Year 1 Jack, the gallery owner, had left early. He’d said something about banks, taxes and traffic, grumbled, then stepped out the back door into the windy October evening. It was about half an hour until closing time, and I told him to watch out for the crazy drivers. It’d been a slow day, so…
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“Tromp L’oeil,” Year 2. The crash of the phone onto the wood floor woke me.
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Author’s Note: I wrote this somewhere between 2003-2005. Don’t really remember when for sure, and I’ve had it stashed in my cloud for years. Found it again looking for a Halloween story to hang up. Reread it, and … I kinda like it. Knowing what I know now about Urban Fantasy … I wish I’d…
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I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s a big one. I am literally always afraid. Every moment of every day is fear and worst-case scenario. On the outside, sure, I look calm and ready, mom’s spaghetti and all that. So my trick is, when I realize I’m afraid, that the wave is crashing,…
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Ned sat in the hotel room, watching the weather, Travis Meyer pointing and gesturing to Crayola colored computer cartoons of storms that moved across the screen in staggers. Outside, thunder and wind buffeted the walls of the Super 8, and Ned thought he heard hail, which was good. Ned listened, rapt, to the word of…
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Baron pulled the door to the diner, basked in the cool blast of the air conditioning for a moment before trudging over to a stool at the counter. He unslung his worn black pack, set it on the seat to his right, then popped off his dirty black ballcap and tossed it on the bartop.…
skepticlysm 