Most of these stories originated from my LinkedIn / Goodreads writing group. They are limited to 750 words.
What if you could skip through spacetime, avoiding death. This is another writers' group story. And it's a love story, sort of.
The Eater Of Time is coming. He is a bastard with a wide-gaping maw that doesn’t miss a thing. He comes for all things eventually. A very few of us are more sensitive to him than others. We have cracked his code, done the math and found him wanting, easily checked. ... more »
A new short story from the Pan21 / Oligoi universe. This is another writer's group story.
Softly, with an eye on the quad, Bird said, "We don’t have to live the lives they tell us to. We don’t have to be slaves, cogs in their machine. The barrio is like the wild west. We can write our own rules. We don’t have to live by theirs. You can cover a lot of ground, Kraut, just taking small steps. ... more »
New fiction in the Consortium universe
I would like to claim that I died in pursuit of something greater than myself, in service to family or community, but that isn't the case. Not really. I thought as an upstanding member of the church I was doing just that. I thought my hours of volunteer work bolstering the faith of others were hours well spent every week. Like many, I came to realize this wasn’t so much too late, past the time when salvation was possible. ... more »
A new science fiction story from the Pan21 universe
It was the most beautiful place to create. It possessed a quiet solitude that allowed ideas to coalesce in unexpected ways. Life fermented here and discovered new planes of being. It wasn’t work when he set up his canvas in this room. ... more »
Hmm. I wrote a short zombie story. Flash fiction for/of the brain dead. Because, you know, zombies.
She lined up the shot with the sight, felt the weight of the cold barrel in her hand and the press of the stock against her shoulder, and squeezed a bit on the trigger. The memory stutters and halts at times like these. Sure, there are the jeans, his dumb-ass sneakers and most of the torn sweatshirt he was wearing, but beyond that it’s all guesswork and subliminal pattern recognition. But the mind weaves it all together, eventually, assembles the jigsaw puzzle that is the horror-show heading her direction, and parades the last few weeks of highlights in front of her. ... more »
New short story about catatonia. What if you could get inside the head of the person suffering from catatonia?
She checked the mirror before heading to breakfast. She could see it, the time lost. A wrinkle just beneath her eyes, subtle, not deep. Still, it wasn’t there before. Kreiger had stolen more of her time. The mites hadn’t completely settled, the floaters a bit too numerous. There was a cost to her impatience and that cost reflected back at her from the mirror. ... more »
We each define our own reality. You can think me twisted or bent – unfortunate, maybe – but don’t pity me. I have something many don’t. New short fiction.
A note, a silk flower, memories. These are all I have left now. But who knows how real they are. Oh, the note and silk flower are real enough, tactile. But the memories associated with them are nebulous, filtered through fog, viewed through frosted glass. They are mine, but I can’t say for certain that I own them, yet. At best, I am their caretaker. ... more »
There is a greater game at play here. One at odds with itself, one with a long history of stripping individuals of significance, of tossing them aside and into the fires in a gesture of appeasement.
In the distance explosions light up the night sky, their light exposing silhouetted buildings and the smoke and airborne debris from previous bombs that hang suspended in the air. ... more »
A grasshopper landed on my windowpane and stayed there. He seemed to me to be a happy grasshopper. His left front leg was bent in a way that made it appear as if he were waving hello.
A grasshopper landed on my windowpane and stayed there. He seemed to me to be a happy grasshopper. His left front leg was bent in a way that made it appear as if he were waving hello. He peered into my place with big eyes. I imagined he was wondering what was going on, what I was doing. How could he get in through the window to be a part of things on the other side? ... more »
in category Life