Sunday, April 26, 2015

Finding My Muse

The mud in the trench has turned to ice. The cold has taken the edge off the smell of decomposition. I've lived in this hell for two years now.

We go over the top. Artillery shells explode above us. Suddenly, red hot agony cuts through me. As I fall I see my blood splashing the ground before everything goes dark.

Opening my eyes I take off the psychic amplification headset.

We live in a perfect world and we have lost the ability to create art.

Focusing on the horror that I felt, I pick up my pen and begin composing.

Saturday, April 25, 2015


The doctor spoke sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, but your son is... musical."

The man turned pale. His wife wept quietly.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Priming the Sale

"He may not look like it," Sam said, "but this little guy's a big money maker. Our clients sell big ticket items. Research demonstrates that when people are depressed they can dramatically overspend on a product."

The puppy was adorable. Sam hit it with a hammer. It yelped then lay twitching. Blood trickled from it's mouth.

"Joey has an advanced polymar construction over a titanium frame. This resets him"

Sam pressed a button on a remote. The dog sat up, it's tail wagging.

"and this button makes Joey run under a moving car. Think of it as priming the sale."

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

A Farther's Love

The world of humanity had come to an end. I knew that our time was short.

 We had stayed together as a family, searching for food until none could be found. Starvation took it's toll. Now only my four year old daughter and I remain.

 They say that a parent's worse nightmare is to see their children die before they do. I'd lost my child once and I refuse to see it happen a second time.

 I kneel before my little girl and give her the hatchet. I hope that she understands. Pointing at my head I say "brains."


The buzzing in my ears was just an annoyance until the day that a fly flew out of one of them... and the buzzing didn't stop.

Thursday, April 9, 2015


The best stories come from personal experiences.

It's 3 am when I break into the morgue, hoping to cure my writers block.

Giving the Devil His Due

I was elderly when my alchemy called up the Prince of Demons. Though he tried to trick me I was resolute. I would only trade my eternal soul for a body that is incorruptible and eternally youthful. He agreed and I laughed at him, swearing that he would never collect his due.

When I later begged Satan to take my soul he laughed and rebuked me, saying that even though I lacked commitment to my oath he would hold me to it.

Black holes are supposed to die in enormous explosions. I look forward to seeing light one last time