Welcome. You’ve found your way here at long last. I’ve been waiting for you.
Have a look around.
Here you’ll find mainly flash fiction and a short story or two.
A little bit about flash fiction before we go on. Shall we? Flash fiction is not precisely a short story. A short story, to be effective, must have all the structure of any story. It must have a beginning, middle and end. It must have satisfying plot and/or character arc. Its major difference from a novel is the size and scope of the story. A novel give you room to tell an epic tale with many threads woven together. A short story must be tightly focused. Flash fiction must be more focused still. It should be gut punch that communicates a sense of story, even if it doesn’t quite meet the strict structural requirements of story. If a novel is like a cross-country journey, then a short story would be a night on the town and flash fiction would be like the lights coming up in a dark room just long enough for you to see the shape of the thing slinking towards you.
Browse my wares, if you will.
Be warned. Some of these items have teeth.
50 Word Stories
Behind the ancient, rusted mailbox, she looks for his reply.
The Man with the Teardrop Tattoo
He caught me in the alley, the man with the teardrop tattoo…
I Used to be Someone Else
The world is dying, but at the Sandbar drinks are half price.
He told you, whatever you do, don’t open it. But he should have known better.
Note: You’ll find this piece at the bottom of the Sacrifices repost.
100 Word Stories
What’s in My Head
What’s in my head is out there now.
250 Word Stories
We all make sacrifices…
500 Word Stories
Change is in the Air
Puberty is hard, especially when you’re the late bloomer in a distinguished family of werewolves.
The machine opens a gateway between worlds.
A Lovely Conundrum
Francis and Beatrice find an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.
Postcards from Hell
Neither the apocalypse nor death with keep the mailman from his delivery.
Ants in the Mailbox – Postcards from Hell, Part 2
The postman delivered his message at last. The rest is up to Steve and Deanna.
Note: Postcards from Hell and Ants in the Mailbox were the inspiration for my novel in progress.
“Why is the sky black?”
“It’s the end of the world, baby. Look.”
Just Another Day on the Job
A common fire sprite in the city park. A Type III Banded troll in the suburbs. It’s all just another day on the job.
“There are doors between here and there, Mr Walker,” said the man in the tweed jacket.
In my dream, I make it home in time.
“Gather, children,” the old one said. “I shall tell you how Moon King learned to dance.
The Moon-Blessed (A Short Story)
“But then the Betrayers came. They rejected the Gift and the world fell into Darkness. The Old Ways must be kept Sa’renna. The Gift must not be rejected.”
Ba’thor falls silent and Sa’renna turns to him. He grins at her in the moonlight, his teeth bright against dark lips. The faint smell of decay drifts off his body. His eyes are like dark pits, holes in the night sky.
“There must be blood and battle-sacrifice.”