Tag: fiction


From the window of the station Tony could just make out the outline of South America. With a nearby ding he remembered where he was standing, grabbed two coffees from the vending machine and turned around to see Lynn waving him over to talk with one of the doctors. He quickly crossed the waiting room toward his haggard wife and the well-kept Dr. Zionkowski.

As he bridged the distance, his wife motioned to the doctor. “She says she has news.”

Tony handed one of the coffees to Lynn, who just held the warm cup. He said, “How is she?”

Dr. Zionkowski lifted up the tablet to double-check her charts and then sighed deeply. “I wish I could give you better news, be more gentle. But it’s not looking good.”

Lynn mumbled, “Oh no.”

Dr. Zionkowski continued, “She…she isn’t responsive, not to sound, not to light or vibration. I fear you have only a few hours to make a decision.”


Step Mother’s Note

Dearest daughter,

I know when you went to sleep you still didn’t consider me your mother, but I hope you know that I always considered you part of my family.  By the time you read this, you will have woken up from your rest. I hope that you are feeling better. I know things haven’t been easy, and I hope when you wake things will finally be easier, fairer.

I know that this situation has taken a deep toll on you. It’s taken a toll on me as well, but I don’t mean to make this about me. 

What I am trying to say is, I hope that by the time you wake you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to do this, but… I hope you can at least understand why, even if you can’t forgive me.


The Truth: Part 1

Trouble always seems to find me if it wants to go looking. It makes sense; my office can be reached from almost every corner of the world. See, all you really need is the right ingredients and the right incantations when walking into any investigator’s office. By the time the incense has finished burning, you’ll be right across the desk from me. 

See, every one of us had an aspect, a calling, something that defined us in the abstract. I was truth, and by extension I was the one the others went to when they needed to know the truth. It doesn’t mean I was always honest though. I was just simply inclined to find the truth, not tell it.

There were millions of us, I think. It was hard to keep track of at the time. You got to know those who worked around you, but that doesn’t mean that you knew anyone beyond your network. To be honest, I hadn’t seen my immediate network in a couple months. Most of them were of similar aspects, like “lying,” “honesty,” “knowledge,” and even “communication,” so they didn’t need my help as often as others.


The Arrhenius Cask

You know me. I’ve always been able to take a slight on the chin. I dealt with Felicity’s constant abuses and badgering for years, but after that insult…well even a saint can only take so much. So I had to resolve this in a way that both satisfied my need for resolution but also didn’t risk my name. To be clear, Felicity had no idea I was angry with her back then. That whole month leading up to my plan, I was kinder than I had ever been before. 

But Felicity had two weaknesses. Despite being quite charming, and rather manipulative, she was as much convinced of her genius as she was, in truth, an idiot. She considered herself an absolute expert on the whole freezing process, but hadn’t made a single breakthrough under her own merits. To be fair, she could recite the effects of any chemical, ingested or injected. In that sense we were similarly well-read. 


Mother May I

Molly entered the kitchen to see Michael already awake and cooking breakfast. “You’re late! Mother will be home soon.” He paused and changed his tone to something more pleading. “Please help.”

“I was still asleep.”

“I would love to sleep in too!” said Michael, losing the softer tone he had before. 

Molly’s eyes flickered to the patches on his skin and quickly walked into the room to help him. “What do you need from me?”

“Could you see if the milk is still good?”

Molly ran to the fridge and opened it. The hinges groaned open and a sweet smell filled the room. “I hate this thing.”

“She tried her best, now hurry up and help.” Michael continued to chop up a carrot, shaking the entire time.


Brewed Awakenings Excerpt 4

Still working on the first draft of Brewed Awakenings. I will return to posting short stories January 15th. Until then, please enjoy these humorous excerpts from my novel about coffee that makes people disappear.

Eyes are the windows to the soul. This phrase is what we call a metaphor. Eyes are not literally the windows to the soul, as they don’t actually show you the inside of a soul, or allow a soul to see outside the body. However, metaphorically, they do allow others to see what you are thinking and feeling, and therefore get a brief glimpse into the inner workings of your mind.

Buildings actually have windows, and in a way, they function as the eyes of the structure. This is also a metaphor. If you look to the windows you can see what is going on inside, just like you can get a glimpse of what is going on inside someone’s soul through peering into their eyes.

Buildings actually function a lot like people, beyond just the unsettling similarities between eyes and windows, peering and watching.