A short interview about my story "The Trader" can be found on the Metaphorosis Books website.
"The Trader" is available in the Score Anthology.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Sunday, March 3, 2019
The Trader
My story "The Trader" is out now in the Score: an SFF Symphony anthology.
What if stories were written like music?
Score is an anthology of varied stories arranged to follow an emotional score from the heights of joy to the depths of despair - but always with a little hope shining through.
Purchase the anthology on Amazon.
What if stories were written like music?
Score is an anthology of varied stories arranged to follow an emotional score from the heights of joy to the depths of despair - but always with a little hope shining through.
Purchase the anthology on Amazon.
Thursday, February 7, 2019
AdPerson
Listen to my new flash fiction piece "AdPerson" over at the 600 Second Saga podcast.
Roland wakes into a world that is an eager customer.
He savors his oatmeal with honey; he brushes his teeth; he puts on clothes and greets the neighbors on his way out the building. And he stands at the bus stop and stands in the bus and reads his instructions from Corton Vestee Inc. and occasionally checks his wristwatch, treating it all as a performance, every sidelong glance, shuffle of the feet, every sigh and breath.
(Listen to the whole story.)
Roland wakes into a world that is an eager customer.
He savors his oatmeal with honey; he brushes his teeth; he puts on clothes and greets the neighbors on his way out the building. And he stands at the bus stop and stands in the bus and reads his instructions from Corton Vestee Inc. and occasionally checks his wristwatch, treating it all as a performance, every sidelong glance, shuffle of the feet, every sigh and breath.
(Listen to the whole story.)
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
Ghostflesh
Horror short story "Ghostflesh" out out now at Five on the Fifth.
Martina lights the candle, and shadows throw themselves up against the wall; black silhouettes flicker, dance, squirm as if before a firing squad, and Martina watches these shadows through squinting eyes, drinking in their performance.
“They'll be strongest on Sunday,” she tells me and snuffs out the candle.
Smoke wreathes her head; she gets up and the wreath goes through her, dissipates. She flips the switch. Light floods the room, making us both wince, and I sneak a glance but the shadows have melted back into the wall.
Read the whole story here.
Martina lights the candle, and shadows throw themselves up against the wall; black silhouettes flicker, dance, squirm as if before a firing squad, and Martina watches these shadows through squinting eyes, drinking in their performance.
“They'll be strongest on Sunday,” she tells me and snuffs out the candle.
Smoke wreathes her head; she gets up and the wreath goes through her, dissipates. She flips the switch. Light floods the room, making us both wince, and I sneak a glance but the shadows have melted back into the wall.
Read the whole story here.
Thursday, January 10, 2019
Borrowed
My flash fiction piece "Borrowed" is out now at Farther Stars Than These.
Emma was playing with Lev the Lion when the bell rang.
Rainbows gleamed in her father's eyes: the porch camera feed relaying to his optic nerve. Emma giggled as his cheeks and forehead wrinkled up in befuddlement; but his eyes dulled back to brown a moment later, and he went to open the door.
(...continue reading.)
Emma was playing with Lev the Lion when the bell rang.
Rainbows gleamed in her father's eyes: the porch camera feed relaying to his optic nerve. Emma giggled as his cheeks and forehead wrinkled up in befuddlement; but his eyes dulled back to brown a moment later, and he went to open the door.
(...continue reading.)
Saturday, December 1, 2018
Between the Cities
Saturday, November 3, 2018
When We Go
"When We Go" is out now at Fiction on the Web.
When I go, I want to go like a rocket.
Leaving the world at breakneck speed, upright, arms like fins, legs trailing a column of smoke; and the dusk sky, a postcard ripped in two by my passing.
And then, no explosion. But a winking out as space swallows me whole and the earliest star outshines me.
And then -
Wind blowing the smoke away; people scattering, going home to cry at photos that end up packed away into shoe boxes, shoved under beds to gather dust. People moving on.
People forgetting.
(...continue reading.)
When I go, I want to go like a rocket.
Leaving the world at breakneck speed, upright, arms like fins, legs trailing a column of smoke; and the dusk sky, a postcard ripped in two by my passing.
And then, no explosion. But a winking out as space swallows me whole and the earliest star outshines me.
And then -
Wind blowing the smoke away; people scattering, going home to cry at photos that end up packed away into shoe boxes, shoved under beds to gather dust. People moving on.
People forgetting.
(...continue reading.)
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