She needed the money. That was the long and short of it. Land of opportunity… maybe. But opportunities cost money, and she was living out of a suitcase, and eating her last few dollars. When she left home, those meager savings seemed like a fortune. Now—two weeks into New York City—she could see they wouldn’t
The Cloud A computer glitch, she thought. A file that came with the machine, a crystal-clear something to show off the display, or a piece of bloat-ware fluff that never got erased, and wound up being sucked up into the cloud with the video of her family and the pictures of their vacation. She changed
The Past Tastes Better Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, my job is nothing. Forty or fifty years, or in rare cases, seventy, but never much more. A quick nip in time, back to some church dinner or Bar Mitzvah to pick up gramma’s secret recipe—whatever it happened to be—and back to collect the check.
We’re a little less than a month out from the next StoryTime Blog Hop, and I’m actually getting the invitation out in time that everyone has an actual opportunity to write a short story. The deadline for links is July 20, this time around, and the Fabulous Juneta Key will be hosting (again. Because she’s
I don’t know why I took the pills. It wasn’t smart. Just a moment of try-anything desperation, and a gulp of water, and two slightly luminous capsules the size of castor beans went sliding down my throat. Half a second after I swallowed, I decided to put my finger down my throat. That was the
Somewhere, in the Great American Prairie, on land that belonged to a town that no longer exists, you will find a small cemetery. Be sure you close the gates. You don’t want to chase the cows out, and the volunteer who mows doesn’t want to clean up after them. Now and then, a new grave
I’m working on a short story. It’s the kind of thing that’s only very, very vaguely science-fiction, and it’s longer than most of the things I’ve done for the blog. It also has a very different tone. It’s the kind of year when everything connects to everything else, whether you want it to, or not.
It was nearly midnight before the first fatal drops splattered from the rattling still. The old woman checked the door, but she was alone. Her husband was long since in bed, the cat was locked safely in the cellar, and the most lethal poison in the world was gathering in the bottom of one of
For my first 52 Week Challenge thing, I started writing a short story. By the time you read this, the short story will be finished, maybe edited and formatted, and I’ll be looking for a good home for it. If you know of anyone who’s looking to make a movie, give them my e-mail. Yup,
Why is it that good habits are so much easier to break than bad ones? Let me lay it out for you. My pattern is this:1.) Get into a good writing habit. 2.) Stop to revise. 3.) Really, really stop to revise. Farewell, new words. 4.) Fail to make revision a measurable part of my