I write mostly short stories and some poetry. Pretty much any genre, though I lean toward science fiction, fantasy and horror. I try to publish at least once a week.
Jack stood about 5'6". Clean-shaven, his hair cut short and neat; well groomed. He was not particularly athletic, but he was thin and trim. He dressed well and enjoyed wearing a suit and tie to work each day. Jack was not what you would consider a manly man, preferring to spend his time cooking and building up his wardrobe of fine suits. He loved living alone, his apartment was his safe place. And though he had his apartment decorated the way he liked, he thought it would be nice to have a place that was a little bit bigger. A bigger kitchen perhaps would also be nice.
My head was pounding as I opened my eyes. I touched my forehead and winced as my hand brushed across my eyebrow. I turned toward the window and looked into the dim reflection in the glass. My tired eyes stared back at me, one eye brightly bloodshot, bruised, and swollen.
Water, Water, Nowhere
Sally stood under the shower head, soap suds covering her body and shampoo slathered into her hair. Hot steam rose to the bathroom ceiling, then wafted through the air to settle on the mirror’s surface and cover the walls in glistening beads of wetness.
The Storm of a Woman’s Revenge
The weathermen predicted the hurricane would make landfall as a category five somewhere near Newport, Rhode Island. Dolores listened to the weather forecast on the TV as she was preparing Henry's breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage with home fries and toast. Breakfast was his favorite meal of the day, and Henry was an early riser. Dolores was not an early riser, but she dragged herself out of bed at 5 am each morning anyway so she could have breakfast on the table, and a pot of hot coffee ready by 5:30 am when Henry came downstairs after his shower.
A Glimpse Of Malice
I woke to the jostle of the train as it shook, passing over a wrinkle in the track. I was seated in the first row of the passenger rail car. The red leather seat was wide, deep, and comfortable. A laptop lay in front of me on the wide metal table between my row of seats and the next. The next row faced me, and a tall young man with short black hair sat watching me. His face, though clean-shaven, showed stubble from a day or two of not having used a razor. He wore a white button-up shirt and red tie, his business attire. He appeared to be someone who was making his way home after a difficult job interview. Tired and a bit frazzled, the press of his shirt gone, now wrinkled, the tie loosened, his collar unbuttoned.
How To Steal Yourself Rich
This is my interview with Rob. Rob is 32 years old and worth north of 5 million. In this interview, Rob tells us how he achieved such great success. His methods are not what I would call mainstream. And in fact, you may find what he says pretty offensive. But there is no denying the logic of what he says and what he has achieved. Rob is quite protective of his identity and insisted that I tag this story as fiction. Please, assume that it is. So without further ado, here is my interview with Rob.
The People That Wave
It was a Sunday evening the first time I felt it. I was unloading boxes in my new apartment. The new place I just moved into was on the 4th floor. A beautiful brick-walled apartment with very high ceilings. It was an old mill that was converted into living spaces years ago.