His Web
Resistance is equal in taste so he waits for the vibrant living thing.
Category: Short Fiction
My Last Visit
One day in session I thought, (thought mind you, I did not say…) “I’m physically attracted to him.”
Her Beautiful Days
“Pick up the book, you idiot, pick it up and throw it through the window.”
Ghosts and Trains and Things She Left Behind
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” he asked me.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I said.
Drummer
I did not belong in the bare essential apartment surrounded by all the up and comings. I didn’t belong in a bar when the nights in the hot and humid town pulsed with loneliness. I didn’t belong on the street in the middle of the night walking with a man that nearly drove me mad with sexual desire.
That Tender Spot
I got up and followed as best I could but even in my discomfort I confessed a strange gratitude that she had not let go of my throbbing arm. We walked for forever but in reality we walked just around the block. She steered me past parked cars and a darkened street and down some stairs.
Harvey
“I’m not a tourist, I’m from Grand Rapids.”
What Is It?
Do you believe in evil?
Do you?
Summoning Winter
I deal in death, that’s how I earn my bread and butter. Wallowing in the financial implications of suffering and demise, I shuffle the sheaves of paper, both tactile and electronic, that rustle the real-life certainty of not existing anymore. Working under a thick armour of mental self-preservation which expands with the continual observation of someone else’s misery, I muddle through and keep an even tone in my voice. I work in an emotional freezer for survival’s sake.
Hollow
“What’s your name,” he asked.
“Laurel,” she whispered, ashamed–this was no proper introduction.
“Well, Laurel, would you like to see the two-headed chickens or the trapeze act in the big top?”
She looked down and whispered no thank you and hoped he would believe her.