“Good afternoon,” the older gentleman stranger said to the man with his back facing him. Before them lay forest as far as the eye could see.
The older silver-haired mustachioed gentleman name was Martin. Martin strode forward and looked down into the ravine. It was difficult to see the bottom. The other man stood facing outward in silence, not answering the older man. He could see a folded piece of paper with a name on it. Corey it read very neatly.
Continue reading “Lover’s Leap”
“How long do we have to stay,” Grant asked impatiently.
“Would you relax,” Caleb shouted back looking over his shoulder to the basement’s mini bar. “It’s a night out. You don’t have work. You did well on your midterms.”
“Every time I hang out with you, it ends with a disaster,” Grant said, shrinking into the corner of the crowded basement filled with teenagers. Grant waved his hand to wave the strange smelling smoke from his face.
“We never hang out,” Caleb screamed over the music thumping in the tiny space. “Honestly, it’s like you’re like a charity case,” he mumbled underneath his breath.
“What,” Grant exclaimed with his eyes bulging.
“Nothing,” Caleb said loudly. He couldn’t help, but fidget and rub his neck, waiting for something to happen. “It’s nothing. You’re exaggerating. Like always.”
Continue reading “The Predictive Dreams”
“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.”