“Hello. I am the operations manager. We don’t have time, so listen up.”
“Who am I? What is this place?”
“You are the star of the game! You are Pierre and your source code has just been copied to a new device.”
“Star? Source code? What are you talking about?”
Continue reading “The Game of Choice”
Sometimes I wonder…
Is there anybody out there? Is anyone really out there?
Firstly, I must apologize. Where I said I would write one short story a week for 52 weeks, I posted the last short story late Saturday night, minutes before midnight. Now for all the things I promised myself I won’t do, making excuses is at the very top.
Continue reading “Obstacles”
“Baby, it’s time to get up,” Camille said.
“Okay,” Richie mumbled with his face buried in his pillow.
“Come on, sweet pea. You’re going to be late and I can’t drive you to school,” Camille returned to Richie’s doorway to say. After a few moments, she returned. “Richard, I am not feeling well and I don’t have time for this.” Camille peered into the darkness and saw something wasn’t right.
Continue reading “FunHouse”
It doesn’t matter who I am.
We all have an expiration date. If life goes (and trust me it goes) you might be like some people and keep your head down really down, buried under all your grief, pain and misery, wondering why life was so awful. You keep this up for years and then 60 years pass you by and then BOOM; your expiration date arrives.
Continue reading “Expiration Date”
Wednesday, Two-thousand something something…
I stare at myself through the reflection of a cracked mirror. This isn’t an allegory that I’m fractured. Please, this isn’t poetry.
I can see my molars through the different shards as I yawn. Fillings. Metal. That’d be a bitch if if they cracked. I brush my teeth diligently ‘cause I don’t like implied future pain. And for the love of God, floss. There’s a broken brush in front of me. My hair is messy. Knotting. Now, this is optional. What a conundrum. Who am I brushing for? Me? The big Man upstairs? I always wanted Rastafarian locks.
“Alright Brian, what’s on the agenda today?”
Continue reading “B.A.D.”
“Wanna try Mexican,” Rachel asked Bryan.
“I guess,” Bryan answered lazily, his head resting on the passenger side window. He observed the Arizona desert as it passed him by. The two cruised over the charred pavement. The air conditioner on max could barely keep them cool as the sun baked them inside.
Rachel turned to him with her hands still on the steering wheel. “What do you mean you guess? There’s nothing to eat for another fifty miles,” she said, waiting for a reply.
“So why’d you ask me,” he asked, still staring at the rolling desert.
Continue reading “Road Block”
George sat in his car hunched over his steering wheel, starting at the seven story hopelessly average building that towered over the plain field that surrounded it. His car hugged the edge of the parking lot. Behind him, a dense forest. What if a mythical creature were to engulf him and his car in one bite. Would he be missed?
Continue reading “Sick Day”