Stephen A. Roddewig
Writer who's spent more on print copies than he's been paid for those same stories and who really wishes contributor's copies were an industry standard. Oh, and I write plays sometimes.
Proud member of the Horror Writers Association 😤
- Runner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge
The Rising SunRunner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge
Beneath, soft white sand. Behind, birds and monkeys chattered, already awake in the pale gray of false dawn. In front, waves broke upon the coral reefs. To the left, a bottle of Kill Devil Hills rum rested against his thigh, its cork long lost and its contents mostly absent. To the right, a cigarette burned lazily between his fingers.
Looking from the Depths
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. It had been a favorite place for all these months. Or was it years? Time had less meaning when the seasons stuttered to a halt and the routines fell by the wayside.
A View to Die For
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. Martin Williams glided across the four-foot snow drifts in his snowshoes. Behind, the Bentley 8 Litre smoked and gurgled. Tight curves and the incessant climbed had killed the automobile.
Dick Winchester in... The Box with No Name
Out of all the doors in this city, it came to mine. What is a box? More than the cardboard, the shipping label, the ridiculous amount of empty space filled with plastic cushions to safeguard one Q-tip. It’s a mindset. One where the walls surround you on all sides. Blocking out the truth.
Mittsie and the Candelabra
This is one of my earliest memories. I was in the living room of our home, the one my parents bought right before I was born and has been in the family for the past 27 years. My mom was on the couch watching some TV program. I don’t recall which show it was.