Short Fiction
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The Tick

A man named India felt like a voodoo doll the morning of his electric birthday. The pinpricks stabbed at him like tiny little swords. He wasn’t feeling right in the head. Something about turmoil and fissures cracking open like in the Earth itself. The steam and liquid magma were leaking out inch by inch and… Continue reading
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Industrial Forest

Blankets of rain seed the important information of the day. Massive zeros invade my mind. A machined white cloud dangles in a black sky. Wagon tracks through a green field stretch to the horizon. No wagon in sight. A gray weathered house cradles tortured dreams inside the bell of a tortured mind. Tortured by the… Continue reading
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The Abandoned Mannequin

Our lives all tangled in a fishing net of anxiety. And then she’s lovely to hold. Warm wife. Oblong life. Woke up like lonely Hulk today, thumbing for a ride on the avenue of broken dreams, smashing through a brick wall in an abandoned town on the edge of the desert. Scattered bricks like broken… Continue reading
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Yellow Yesterday

Yellow emotions skid across the floor of the only grocery store. Longevity unfurls in the cinnamon rolls. The man in the candy aisle is addicted to Hot Tamales—a fierce cinnamon-flavored chewy candy. Then there’s that yellowcake uranium house with the darkened, sunset kitchen that stands in the shadows. Aluminum windows, puffer-fish brick. The yard a… Continue reading
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The Blue Villa

I ordered two kitchen sinks because I’m crazy. They’re for my blue pastel villa in Italy. The blue is cerulean and at night reflects the yellow light of the outside lamps in shapes resembling swaths of butter pads. It’s a reclusive place that sits near the water. It’s two levels with a walkway leading up… Continue reading
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The Walk

A man walks from a house to the edge of a lake. The house he leaves behind is white, so it blends in with all the snow. It’s modern and elegant. Straight edges and lines, levels, elevated, lots of windows, and even now someone looks out one after him. His breath screams out like a… Continue reading
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Moonlight Road

The stars are coated in milk They show their knife points Pinpricks as if in a child’s bedtime picture book They appear between the black slats of the rigid leafless trees I have to stop and hold my stomach The sudden yet momentary ache of true life The path is wide and mostly straight A… Continue reading
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The Bottomless Inkwell

What is it about this disarray of life that eats at my guts on a hot morning in July while I stand in a sauna of soap and bleach in the kitchen of the Silver Taco Café in a town in the desert that has no right to be here. I throw down a white… Continue reading
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Tornado Soup

I saw an old television set just sitting in the road. It wasn’t plugged in, but it was playing a show. The show was about a town devastated by a massive tornado back in the early 21st century. I sat down in the roadway and watched. The images were very white, bleached out almost, and… Continue reading
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A Wayward Wish

I scratched in my personal notebook with a blue ink pen because I was upset again: Why are you so proud to be hateful, and so eager to destroy the world? The house was granular beige and shadows walked in front of the windows. The gargoyles up high had shoulders like mountains, and they wondered… Continue reading
