It seems like a snapshot plucked from a 1980's PSA: a lone man in a beige trench coat had come and sat next to little Susannah Ann Chalmers on the swing set. Mrs. Chalmers doesn't see him approach. Eventually, she looks out her kitchen window (nearly done with the dishes) and runs toward the public... Continue Reading →
"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 →
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.
“We’re here Mr. Randall. Home sweet home. Do you want me to give you a hand--” “No! Just leave it. My arms aren’t crippled, ya know. I can get it my own damn self.” “‘Course, Sir. My apologies,” the driver says and takes off his Patient Shuttle Service cap to wipe the perspiration from his... Continue Reading →
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 →
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 →
He is afraid to fall asleep. It seems there is something he forgot That he really needs to do But doesn’t know what it is. It is something the morning won’t allow. He feels that if he stays in the night, here, safe, All would be quiet and calm And there would be no confrontation.... Continue Reading →
The old man swings his axe in an arc up over his head and brings it down hard. There is a wet sound when the blade makes contact. Not at all what he was hoping. And it's quieter than expected. He decides to keep at it and lifts the axe for another swing. It is... Continue Reading →
Things I am Thankful for This Holiday Evening: Thank you for this crackling fire Beneath my twinkling, tinsel-decorated fireplace mantel, Which I enjoy from this pillowy armchair With my knitting needles in hand and doily-adorned sewing machine close by. Thank you for the pleasant clinking of the needles And the glide of the soft yarn... Continue Reading →
I hate the life that’s led by mostly everyone. Full of worrying about beauty and labels. Status and ego. Their pursuit of money and ownership of other people. When you work in marketing like I do, sometimes you marvel at our ability to push a product that is nothing more than boiled shit. And I’m... Continue Reading →
(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 →
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!
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 →
1 Greeted a family That immigrated to this country, But we did not know they were coming 2 Greeted the needle That brought protection into our bodies By means of vaccine, But we were too busy pleading About a temporary sting And the terror from our ignorance of things 3 Welcomed the flood and the... Continue Reading →
The King is in the FFP building again. Baba, Daddio, Bapu Stephen King, that is. I was practicing with my new refurbished condenser microphone tonight and read this well-up-to-King-standard short story from my copy of Skeleton Crew called "The Reaper's Image". I don't remember ever reading it before but I was nicely chilled by this... Continue Reading →
Non-sequitur time! This poem is not an original of mine. Its author is Stephen King, the father of macaber (har har har, intentional misspelling for phonetic delightment--delightment, which is also not a word but loved by me all the same). The original part of this post is the fact that it's me reading it aloud... Continue Reading →
Terrance was known for his obsession with the Gettysburg Address. Part of the reason was egocentric; it was written on November 17th, the same as his birthday. Sure, everyone knows Lincoln delivered it on the 19th but that's not when it was conceived. "It came down from the divine to Abe's hand on the 17th,"... Continue Reading →
The sand wasn’t cold. It was downright warm. To his sizzled feet, it was starting to feel icy the further the sun fell. Where his shoes had gone, either didn’t matter or he could not remember. Crossing the desert was his only desire. Step. Step. And each sinking, eroding step after that. He only made... Continue Reading →
They often went walking in the late afternoon. Not headed anyplace in particular. She, his wife, and he, her husband. Their routine. While they did this, neither usually wanted to let go of holding each others hands. He unlatched their wrought iron gate when they returned home from the walk that day. Just in time;... Continue Reading →
A dinner plate before you laid, I swear to make this short; I will not stay but if I may Just serve you the main course. No words I’ve writ were ample yet; You neither hear nor see. So, I’ve boiled my heart for you to feast With olives, and dates, and tea.
“You shriveled-sack fucks have it comin’ to you at tomorrow’s practice,” Coach Lance Prebil said to his players in the locker room, his lips curled away from all his teeth. It was the perfect place to throw a fit; no damage was sustained on the indestructible cement and steel wall when he threw a stool... Continue Reading →
She will run out of flesh. She knows the snake is there before she goes. He’s under the shadow of kelp-like tree limbs, Housed in woods ‘neath the pillarless navy-domed eve. Belly down on the leaf-limned ground, he skims. She has only so much flesh. Up her back, across her chest, around her arm, His... Continue Reading →
“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 →