Steve B Howard
Bio
Steve Howard's self-published collection of short stories Satori in the Slip Stream, Something Gaijin This Way Comes, and others were released in 2018. His poetry collection Diet of a Piss Poor Poet was released in 2019.
Stories (119/0)
The Fate of the Follower
If you were only viewing the inside of The Dead Dog Saloon in the town of Dead Dog itself, you would swear a tornado had ripped through the sorry little establishment. Not a bottle behind the bar was left unbroken, not a chair or table left upright, the long mirror behind the bar now reflected in shattered bits the bullet holes in the wall, the blood on the floor, and the busted green felt poker table where the chaos in this tiny New Mexico saloon all began.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Horror
The Retro-Junkie's Hard Burn
They were the worst. A demolition crew on their lunch break. Flageuring Demos, the type of dirty, violent men that drove brutal hover lifts, loaded with broken machinery and chunks of the mountain, down narrow roads at dangerous speeds.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Futurism
Le Petite Mort in a Japanese Snack Bar
Nishi-CT11–48 spent all day on his feet checking and re-checking tax information for discrepancies. Vertical streams of numbers and Kanji glowing black and red against a wall sized white screen consumed all in his tiny cubicle. As he finished processing the numbers and characters, small white silicon disks would drop from slots in the tall black server into data storage bins that lined the floor of his cubicle.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Futurism
Where My Writing Currently Earns
Before you get all excited, notice the headline says “Currently Earns $$$” and not “Currently Earns A Buttload of $$$”. When I say “earns” I mean between $0.03 a month to around $1500 a month. Though the $1500 monthly cash cow will most likely be put out to pasture come mid-May.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Journal
Purpose?
The Artist In the morning, near my son’s daycare an old man uses a pair of barbecue tongs to pick up bright yellow Ginkgo Tree leaves from the sidewalk. He places each leaf into a small brown paper bag. I watch his face crease with concentration as he bends at the waist to gingerly pluck each chosen leaf from the white concrete. He seems to be very determined, but why he does it, I can’t tell.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Humans
- Top Story - April 2021
The Wedding Road Less TraveledTop Story - April 2021
October 1st, 2005 was an auspicious day. At least according to the Buddhist monk that officiated our wedding. The journey from first date in October 1998 to our wedding on October 1st, 2005 was a long one in many ways.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Marriage
Don't Die Over a Spilled Merlot
There was nothing celebratory about that New Year’s Eve. Nirvana was playing at the Cow Palace, but neither of us had gotten tickets. Me and Sal, Salvador Puggio, the Pug Cell, had finished off the the fifth of Peppermint Schnapps he’d stolen from his mom’s liquor cabinet and we were wandering around Golden Gate Park at 11:38 pm as 1992 died away. Drizzly piss rain soaked us through and a bitter wind blew off the Bay. There were plenty of teen parties going on all over the city, but me and Pug couldn’t crash any of them. When it came to teen parties and getting wasted we were the worst type of opportunists. Jackals, hyenas and coyotes would have been more welcome house guests. We were skate punks with a rep for trashing houses when we got too twisted.
By Steve B Howard3 years ago in Confessions