When The Lion Man Comes

"It's not a lion," the four-year-old whispers in his tribal language. He remembers back to a few months ago when he had spotted something golden along the horizon line where the hot air appeared to vibrate. The boy had screamed Lion! and all the village elders (who are skilled in hunting) went charging into the distance,... Continue Reading →

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Published: An Ogre in Walmart

A flash fiction story of mine, entitled "An Ogre in Walmart", was accepted into Sirens Call Publications Magazine this month. It is available here ---> http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/ My story appears in issue number #43, Women in Horror 10, on page 73. Thank you so much for your support. May you all be well. Alhamdulillah.

So Blue

Cheryl says, “What in Sam Hill--” She wipes away the frost on her passenger-side window. “When you’re a beach lover, I guess there’s no keeping you from it!” She gestures towards a man walking along the shoreline that is across the highway. Walter says, “Wouldn’t catch me dead out there. I reckon it’s guys like... Continue Reading →

Retribution

He writes a song for her: Verse 1 Chorus Verse 2 Chorus Bridge Verse 3 Chorus Key Change Chorus X 2 She writes a story for him: Attention-Grabbing Action-Based Opening Cleverly-Woven Exposition Establishing of Character Motivation to Move Story Forward Prose Prose Prose Dialogue Dialogue Dialogue Building of Tension Revealing of Turning Point Resolution Denouement... Continue Reading →

Squeezed Dry (Flash Fiction)

(Click Below for the Audio Version) https://soundcloud.com/fitful-fearful-phantasmal/squeezed-dry-flash-fiction Where else would we go? We were children of well-to-do fathers with Silicon Valley success stories. Between semesters of our ivy league education, three of my friends and I went backpacking through Europe. I couldn’t tell you why exactly. Now, decades later, I think about what I wanted... Continue Reading →

Equinox

Both of them an equinox, His pallid bones, her ivory blocks, Her ebony of solid wood, And his the darkness he'd withstood. His heart on every line he rained And out shed music from her veins. None knows, observing her with him, Where her blood ends and his begins. Sharesies!

In Mr. Habte’s Apartment (also, see the writer’s challenge after this story)

a list of the contents in the trash bin belonging to Mr. Nadir Habte: one set of sweat-soaked, piss-wetted, blood-stained bed sheets one shattered bedside lamp and light bulb seven used tissues--all drenched in mucus and tears, some speckled with blood glass shards from a broken bathroom wall mirror scraps cut from a length of... Continue Reading →

Musophobia

“Is it working?” The squealy reverb of Frank Wahlbinker’s own voice came from the nearby television and radio sets. It startled him. The channels were both tuned in to the premiere international news stations. He switched them off then continued speaking into the live microphone. “You’re all probably wondering who cut in to your programs... Continue Reading →

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