The story below is a work of fiction, but please read the footnote*. The evening of my first show with the band was that one annual autumn night where the season’s first frost comes. Pitch black by dinnertime, gentle smoke scent but no fire, powdered ice on the fallen leaves. Was there a significance to … Story: Cold Open
May the waters spill as they glorify You. May the stones crack and crumble as they praise You. May the skies rend like threadbare garments as they honor You. May the galaxies spin and spend their flames as they bow down to You. May the cosmos return to the impenetrable chaos of the dark depths … Poem: Whither Creation
The story below is a work of fiction. A competitor called in all their remote workers, ones that were hired during you know what. So we did it too. Mandated by next calendar year. People are already pregaming before the big day. Today there was a guy in my normal seat at the cafe. I … Story: Quarantine IX
As the cube drags itself through the drying mud, its path cuts an even sheen into the brown. In later years, when all the water has left for the sky, we can break through the cracked dirt, open it, and discover the blessings underneath.
The story below is a work of fiction. The morning back at work, to the office. All maskless. My state just said to hell with everything and do what you want, and what we wanted, it seems, is to go back to how it was. Mass normalcy bias hypnosis to replace the other fearful hypnosis. … Story: Quarantine VIII
In a different timeline, he was standing on a beach of calm tides, looking across at the orange sunset burst. He might’ve been a little bit taller, a little less weird in the face, more extroverted. Outward with his energy, the things people admit to liking when they murmur to each other. There was a … Story: Prior Restraint
A ghost tries to scare a visitor away from her decrepit house so he isn’t harmed, but her attempts have a much different effect. I stood on the precipice of a grand philosophical conclusion one afternoon, when a group of boys, stepping over the leaf-drowned border of the estate, bantered back and forth loudly enough … Story: Prisoner Invisible
WE HAD A scheduled day off today, but the medusazoans showed up. Protocol dictates we have to make an effort to contact them whenever this happens, but there’s nothing said about recording or even logging the event when no one is on an active shift, as it is during our working days. Technicalities and such; … Story: The Ezekiel Triptych
“‘A squat grey building of only thirty-four stories,’” quoted my sparrow, Jordie, perched on my shoulder, the sound of human language underlaid with her natural staccato chirps. “‘Doorless. Windowless.’” Jordie repeated “windowless” a few moments later, perhaps thinking the intense clamor of birds above us, on the perimeter of the building, drowned out the word. … Story: Cardinal Virtues
The story below is a work of fiction. Back to work tomorrow, in eight hours. Last minute preparations. What will it be like; we still have to wear masks. What will it look like, work friends that have been disembodied for the last four months, trying to be social. What’s the protocol for stepping into … Story: Quarantine VII
Worlds upon worlds in endless succession rise up from the raw material ooze below, and present themselves for consideration. After a length of time, as though they tire of waiting for a decision, many of them ascend to the ceiling to submerge themselves back into the primal-matter plasma, to be broken down and remolded for … Story: A Creative Process
The story below is a work of fiction. My gym reopened. Waiting in my car, in the parking lot. Should I go in. What if it’s a trap. Owners now lead a COVID-19 cult, worshipping a pestilence god only found in Dungeons & Dragons campaign manuals, luring human bodies back through their doors to trap … Story: Quarantine VI
I posted this about a decade ago here, but I never posted the actual text. I suppose it doesn’t matter that much but a part of me will feel restless until I actually do, especially I mentioned I would do it way back when. So here it is. It was inspired by something I had … Story: Eve’s Geometry
This was a story I wrote some time ago for Discovery Christian Church, for a Christmas season service that focused on storytelling and art. The story was printed into a little booklet and sold after the service. The money went to a charity, I think. The art was done by one Kevin Rupert. One of … Story: A Native’s Story
The story below is a work of fiction. One of three birds has been waking me up in the morning. Windows open–rude awakenings are my unjust reward, straight from the bosom of Mother Nature, for allowing her to get closer to me. Their calls are words. One says “Germany, Germany, Germany.” The other says “I … Story: Quarantine V
The story below is a work of fiction. We went somewhere. It was a sort of fraternal hall with shopping. Perfectly healthy folks demeaning themselves with masks, hunching over their carts pathetically because standing up straight like a biped with proper lumbar curvatures was too much to ask. Heaven help them if they start smoking … Story: Quarantine IV
The story below is a work of fiction. It’s come to this. Did everything humanly possible in my matchbox apartment that I could do: meals for the week, wiped everything down, swept corners like those marines in Aliens, swept them again, ironed anything fabric, cleaned my computer of dust and questionable downloads. My phone. I … Story: Quarantine III
The story below is a work of fiction. He went on a date. It was illegal in 40 states, maybe theirs. She texted if he wanted her to wear a mask but he forgot to reply. She wore a headscarf but no not for religious reasons. Her family was from the Maghreb but she looked … Story: Quarantine II
This is a story I submitted to the 2020 Parsec Ink short story contest. It wasn’t accepted, obviously, so here it is, for free. Mrs. James Livermore’s lantern’s light gleamed pale orange onto the weary faces of little Liliana Livermore and her younger brother, Junior, upon their hasty approach to Mrs. Livermore and myself. The … Story: The Lesser Founts at Ilmarinton
The story below is a work of fiction. Top link in my news story feed was a travel blogger having to file for unemployment because of COVID-19. Imagine being an “influencer.” Calling yourself that. What to put on the census, what do you tell people at parties. Practice saying it in front of the mirror … Story: Quarantine
The story below is a work of fiction. I was born after Mom died. The delivering doctor was an Artifice, a high-function, high-powered—and high-priced—android. Mom and Dad only had enough credits to save either Mom or me from the complication. Dad told me, when I was old enough, Mom made the decision without hesitation. The … Story: Imbolc Eve
The story below is a work of fiction. The android sat crossed-legged and scratched at his head—two gestures he had learned from his days of living with real humans, when they were alive. He held one of their bodies in his hand. It didn’t move, just like all the other ones scattered in front of … Story: Artificial
The story below is a work of fiction. Her hand was nestled into the crook of his elbow as he lead her down the crowded, powdered-white street. The layered sheets of blurry white specks floated down and the sight of their meandering, parallax paths made the couples’ route a kaleidoscopic adventure. They threaded the needle … Story: Urban Planning
The story below is a work of fiction. The aliens abducted the man and placed him into a spartan but comfortable room in the zoo. Patrons of only a few alien races walked by to observe him. When the flow of observers increased, and interest in his presence became more acute, his keepers filled out … Story: Caravaggio Prison
The story below is a work of fiction. The lady kept eyeing her on the train, like yesterday. What is this intruder doing here again, she was probably thinking. Another working woman to contend for her Queen Bee perch, overlooking the morning commute. The paranoid thought life of older working ladies: muggers, ex-husbands, rapists, and … Story: The Second Day of Work
At one of my old jobs, someone had left a poorly-worded note in the break room: “coat doesn’t fit. trade?” I wrote this out and taped it up next to it. I almost considered getting it written it up in calligraphy, but I’m not that big of a jerk. Gentlemen of the XX Floor, Is … A Good Sir Story
Lily and Daisy Toddlers warming to their names Fart blossoms blooming Island-stranded couple’s bottled message: “Don’t bother.” Johnson quickly saluted his smug editor. Yet behind him, Emily seethed. The office editorial was complete.
The story below is a work of fiction. He just wanted to sub to an Instagram account that had decent fitness inspiration, but everything he looked at was filled with brown circle Brazilian backsides on the beach and women that were a little too abby. No different than a strip club photo session; he wanted … Story: Lousy Illuminati Disguises, Half Off
The story below is a work of fiction. She babysat the one kid who just watched that one animated movie on repeat. The one with the Taylor Swift song in the beginning. That one song that was an obvious ploy by her A&R management to sell to any kind of media that involves New York … Stories on Blogs are a Bad Idea
The story below is a work of fiction. I notice the short guy that works in my building. Middle aged. Beige yuppie trenchcoat, untied. The hem probably grazes bottom shelves. Not fat; blocky, not stocky. He always orders “hot coffee” at Starbucks, never mentions a size. Unmarried. What does the guy do outside of work. … Story: Coatman
I got third in the spitting competition at Speculative Faith. It wasn’t even close, but I don’t know how close these things tend to get. As a reward for reading this post so far, you get to look at their past competitions and write up a detailed report for me, please. You won’t get paid, … Bronze Place Is Last Place
The story below is a work of fiction. A light rain. He offered the guy space under his umbrella, but he said he was okay without it. He wondered if it would seem kind of gay to the guy, since it seemed like that to him. What kind of unfortunate linguistic determinism is it that … This Story Won’t Turn You Gay
The story below is a work of fiction. A trained actor with an endless parade of stupid ideas. He would voice the most ridiculous, unrewarding ones and immediately criticize them before his friends could. “Here’s one: I’ll transplant to a different part of the country, out of the Valley. No one knows me. I’ll pull … Story: Something Persuasive
The story below is a work of fiction. Visiting her relatives is her secondmost hated event. They stumble over to her with their ethnic hair and diabetic knees. Their collective scent isn’t unpleasant but borderline inhuman; it triggers her disgust reflex. She leaves when she wants to. Trips to the grocery store are degrees worse, … Story: Despair in Two Parts
The story below is a work of fiction. Another semester and another set of students, shining bright like Kubrick tiger eyes. He has enthusiasm for the job despite the contagion protocols of the classroom. They’ve all got superpowers but there’s no defense against the enemies we can’t see.
Men, arrayed on rays, vertex to vertex Reach across the plane with probisci Sleek and curious but blade-grass frail A lateral-diagonal intermingling God, as capstone, pours it downward Perpendicularity, liquid, and unpredicatable Few could apprehend from whence to where Most retract their probing lines, prophesying danger Only a few stay their hand to catch the … Story: Platonic Solid
The story below is a work of fiction. Initially, the object was only perceptible to the array of sensitive instruments focused onto the area, though it soon became visible to those gathered: astronomers, linguists, physicists. It emerged from the blankness of dead space, like a chick from its shell, at the exact coordinates and time … Story: Duality Erased
The story below is a work of fiction. “You and your inventions!” Talia shouted at Thomas, as she blasted away a few more of the large, crab-like, training room drones with her pulse rifle. “And now of all times!” “Those were the last ones, I think, for now,” Thomas reported from his crouched position next … Story: T.H.O.W.A.C.K.
The story below is a work of fiction. He was on edge all week from finals. Miko had sensed it, and urged him up to the hilltop on a cool weekday night on a break, away from the campus lights. He watched, weary and passive, as she assembled the telescope, her pale deft hands grasping … Story: Faster Than Light
The story below is a work of fiction. With the adults, and most of the neighborhood kids, occupied with the block party outside, John fumbled with the lighter in his bedroom. He finally managed to keep it lit without burning his fingers, and ignited the cigarette that stood straight out of Victoria’s mouth. Chris looked … Story: It’s No Wonder
The story below is a work of fiction. All thirty employees gathered in the carpeted lobby for the first public beta play-through of the game. Becky, the project manager, won—she would say “lost,” after the fact—the shortest straw and was player one. Silence during the opening cinematic, and a quick cut to the gameplay, an … Story: The Soldier Has No Gun
Mustafa sat proudly at the back of the rock outcropping, a paw—with just enough claw extended make the warning explicit—held firmly on the back of Sarabi’s neck. The mandrill, that neurotic mystic, walked out to the edge of the outcropping and held up Mustafa’s infant son, Simba, for all the gathered animals on the ground … Story: How It Should’ve Gone
The story below is a work of fiction. Alice was the person in the audience least willing to be called upon, so naturally the magician volunteered her for his first trick. Seated on the stage chair, being so close to the magician—she forgot his name but he looked like a Mark—wasn’t as embarrassing as she … Story: Magicland
It was a decent dystopia—it really wasn’t one…I was just the only person to know the context and the coming flood. I met a friend, I think from high school, in the multilevel city. He was pushing a small food cart. He opened the lid and tried to pass off the floating heads as meatballs, … I Don’t Know What This Is, Part 7
There was an Hispanic lady at the Chinese takeout place. I don’t know how I knew that. I tried my rudimentary Spanish on her, and she responded back with salsa-flavored friendliness. She knew I made an effort. I almost jumped the counter to tell the cooks my order because I thought that was customary. Someone … I Don’t Know What This Is, Part 6
Here’s a spoiler alert: zombies are tied to their lands, like feudal serfs in Medieval Europe. If their “lifeland” is doing well, they are going to be coming at you like strongmen. They draw energy from prosperous earth. A solution: drop every dead body far away from where they died so they will end up … I Don’t Know What This Is, Part 5
Her car is full, but that’s not the reason she leaves you on the side of the road. The scenery is pleasant enough, though. You end up back at the gymnasium bleachers soon after and take a nap on the top bench. You fall asleep wondering why there are so many snack food wrappers sticking … I Don’t Know What This Is, Part 4
The skeleton king sidestepped discretely to one edge of the throne room, and up a wall. He had made a mess of things, right in front of the dais, on the strip of crimson carpeting: a pile of bones. His confused courtiers gathered around the pile. The king disappeared into a dark corner of the … I Don’t Know What This Is, Part 3
One night I’ll wake up to find an apocalyptic movie scene being projected onto the bedroom ceiling. Suburban ceilings have the light-colored, canvassy quality that’s needed to accomplish this. I’ll note this fact, and the accuracy of the projector’s keystone adjustments in how the image’s corners neatly fill parallel the ceiling corners. The cinematic hell … I Don’t Know What This Is, Part 2
“Say, I really like Thing X,” said the private, who was Jewish or from a southern state. “That’s dumb. You’re dumb,” said the other private, who was the opposite ethnicity of the first private. “You’re such a racial epithet.” Later, after tossing around more ethnic slurs, they searched for food or booze, fooled around with … Every 20th Century War Novel
It was the day of all days. I planned on finally exerting some of my blossoming masculinity on the two callow lads that were a year my minor. I was picturing how awesome I looked in my “confidence headband” when I slipped on that damned log and fell. They ran away, but I found a … A Short Excerpt of the Internal Dialogue of a Young Video Game Hero
She chattered on with the appropriate disposition of a teenager displaced onto another world. This time she had to convince him that people on her planet dressed up like he does, just for fun, and got together in conspicuous groups to ogle one another. He ignored her as best he could when trying to vibe … Story: Luck Intensification Program
More here. Schrödinger’s cat found him sleeping, buried under the covers, and she wondered if her species’ curiosity could work in the other direction. — Jay (@Jaybreak) March 13, 2013 He was the Pol Pot to her Eva Braun. — Jay (@Jaybreak) March 8, 2013 Their host spoke little but his voice set Amanda’s teeth … A Bunch of Story Tweets from the Last Few Months
I had Lead Petersen’s blog in my RSS reader but kind of glossed over the #5MinuteFiction contest, until the other day when I decided to participate. I ended up tying first place with writer Jenn Baker. It was good times and extremely difficult to write a coherent, complete story in 5 (really, 15) minutes. Thanks … 5MinuteFiction Finality
The excerpt below is from a book I never published, titled How the Gods Shook or A Season Underneath. “What’s the story?” I asked. “Morning glory!” he said. “My battery is getting worse and worse. We should move to a quieter place. What’s with the cap?” “I’m not allowed to wear one?” Pedaling slowly, he … How the Gods Shook, Excerpt Two
The excerpt below is from a book I never published, titled How the Gods Shook or A Season Underneath. “Afternoon, Bite Size,” she breathed in her smooth contralto. “What’s up with you and Cecil?” I asked, pointing my chin towards 5th. “We were talking.” “I could see that.” “Then why’d you ask?” Her blue eyes … How the Gods Shook, Excerpt One
I issued a challenge earlier in the week for writers to write a poem or short story about or set in the summertime, without using a list of certain words. That was kind of a big risk because I have almost no readership and having no responses would make me look sillier than I already … Your Writing Is Terrible: Summer Poetry Finished