Jess was only ten when the first pods washed up on the shore. She’d been standing with her toes dug into the sand, letting the cold Atlantic Ocean swirl around her ankles, daring herself to venture... [+]
Short Fiction
Probably I shouldn't have looked in that NO ADMITTANCE HIGH VOLTAGE DANGER OF DEATH door. I was loitering on the ramp to the #7 subway train at Grand Central Station. I didn't want to go home to... [+]
It came to him suddenly, as he ran down the street screaming and on fire, that he was making a spectacle of himself.
After all, this was a modest neighborhood of well-maintained lawns and sensible... [+]
“I killed a man before, you know.”
It’s 3:12 pm, an awkward time for us to be preparing food. I’m not sure if we’re making a late lunch, an early dinner, or just afternoon tea. I’ve... [+]
Randall stood before his bathroom mirror – gazing at the enormous, glistening dome that was his head. Creams, lotions, infused oils, battery-powered skull caps; he had deployed them all in his... [+]
There’s nothing I love more than eating. Mmm, yes. Fat Boy loves a good meal. I enjoy the crunch, the squish, even the quietest sizzles as I grind every little particle between my molars. I... [+]
It was a slow, massive roar. A dense wall-of-sound that couldn’t possibly be made by one person, no matter how many microphones were hooked up to how many speakers. A scratchy, grainy blend of... [+]
It was November. It was cold; below the seasonal average, the weather forecast said. The wind swept the dead leaves along in gusts. The sky was a cold, clear blue. Really not the weather to be put... [+]