Category Archives: Fiction

He swallowed the mouthful of god-knows-what, the food intended to cover the razor blade and dull the pain as it sliced its way through my throat and into his esophagus. It did its job. He paid more attention to the flavors of … Continue reading →

The Greyhound bus slowed and the driver coasted toward the intersection.  Finally the diesel-belching beast came to a halt. The driver, a guy I’d swear must have been pushing eighty, pressed a button and the door swung open with a loud … Continue reading →

At 1:43 a.m. on the morning of March 18, 2012, Jennie Mae Elquart’s loathing of police officers blossomed into fully formed hatred. Jennie Mae’s youngest son, Nixon, erupted from his mother’s womb during a late-night traffic stop on a flooded highway. After Nixon’s good … Continue reading →

I lumbered up the slight incline of the trail as it came to an end at the shoreline. The lake covered only ten acres, if that. A bench, placed at trail’s end by an environmental organization, invited me to sit and stare … Continue reading →

I awoke quite early this morning, long before the sun would begin to nudge the darkness aside, replacing it with smudges of grey fog-laden daylight. I made a cup of coffee and held it in my hands. Too warm, I thought to … Continue reading →

It was just shy of eleven in the evening and he felt defeated and useless. He had been writing for a few hours, but what he’d written did not have the desired effect. It was not suitable as a balm for a fractured soul. The … Continue reading →

Two men walked side by side, along a cold, windswept path, never saying a word to one another. Occasionally, when a dried Russian thistle tumbleweed rolled across the deserted highway in front of them, they exchanged glances, but no words were … Continue reading →

What would you call it?  A daydream? A fantasy?  I don’t know. Whatever you call it, though, I think all of us, every one of us, should have one.  I suspect it won’t be comfortable. In fact, it might be … Continue reading →

I entered through the monstrous wrought iron and glass front door of the house, in spite of having been told to enter through the kitchen door in the garage. Entry through a garage is just too casual, in my opinion, … Continue reading →

The empty streets of Manhattan, Kansas, captured on live internet video cams, seemed surreal to Connor Embleman. Not a living soul stirred in the city that, one week earlier, was home to fifty-six thousand people. Though the streets were absent … Continue reading →

Camber Morton’s head rested on a cushioned metal circle, exposing the back side through the circle.  He fidgeted while the anesthesiologist adjusted the gadget affixed high up on the back side of his shaved head. A nurse had taped his eyes shut … Continue reading →

Hearing the door rattle, Little Darby Tiptoe lifted his head and sat perfectly still. When it rattled again and he heard the groan of the hook and eye latch, straining to hold the door shut, he sprang to his feet … Continue reading →

With David’s foot tucked back safely in his flip-flop, it was Lisa’s turn to misbehave. She slipped the sandal off her right foot, reached under the table with her leg toward David’s leg, and brushed her foot lightly against the side … Continue reading →

David’s habit of inelegant dress annoyed Lisa Benther. Shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops were fine for the beach but were entirely unsuitable for wearing to lunch. Yet, there he was, sitting across the table from her at Kangaroo, one of … Continue reading →

I left the house at 4:30 a.m., slipping into the dark garage as quietly as I could so as not to wake my daughter’s dog, Winchester. When Winchester is awakened before his natural time to shake off the night’s sleep, … Continue reading →

“Your writing is driven by your attitude of personal prestige, an air of disdain for others. It’s stuck in the middle of that unearned sense of superiority you so readily use to belittle the real emotions people feel. You’ve become … Continue reading →

Epistolary love affairs didn’t have the same ferocity as those conducted in the flesh. At least that’s how Jeremiah Scotland saw it. He’d been involved in both and preferred the latter, as they were more satisfying, in the physical sense. Yet he … Continue reading →

Yesterday, I sat at the dining table, looking out at the trees swaying in the breeze and the ranch down below.  I was eating lunch, which consisted of a tin of smoked mackerel drizzled with Sriracha sauce and spears of cucumbers. I realized, … Continue reading →

The first Ford Fascista came off the Mountain Pine, Arkansas assembly line on November 29, 2026, five days ahead of schedule and twenty years to the day after Mountain Pine effectively died when Weyerhaeuser shut down its plywood and veneer … Continue reading →