Writing

Fiction / Nonfiction / All
Fiction

The tape, the CCTV tape, black and white and out of focus on the mini TV in the closet-sized office of strip mall security, shows a middle-aged woman talking with her hands to the young sales clerk behind the counter. He looks like she might as well have her hands crushed around his balls. He nervously rolls on his feet. A transaction takes place. She leaves.

Christian
Fiction

Jesus came to town with a small band of devotees, after making a pilgrimous journey from Vegas.

Christian
Fiction

I remember Mary and Joseph. They were a nice couple. It took Joseph forever to finally pop the question.

POSEUR
Fiction

"The roold breaks erryone," he said.

POSEUR
Fiction

No one considers the downside of being immortal.

POSEUR
Fiction

Skate’s body resonated. Whenever music played, her whole body vibrated like a giant organic subwoofer. When a car drove by, buzzing a bass line for the whole neighborhood to enjoy, Skate would rattle more than their rear windshield.

POSEUR
Fiction

The next morning his dad was sitting at the small kitchen table huddled over his coffee, hands shaking, bags under his eyes. He motioned Andy over. Andy's heart raced as he took each fearful step. As he got closer, his father picked up a pocket knife off the table and held it out to Andy.

POSEUR
Fiction

Naomi's small house held mostly paper. Books lined the walls and stood in piles in the corners and by chairs. Papers lined the desk and the floor around the desk. The desk itself, a metal desk from the 50s, took up an entire quadrant of the main living area.

POSEUR
Fiction

The central street of the east district was slick like a runny nose on a toddler.

POSEUR
Fiction

The house was crooked. Its paint, whatever was left of it, was of mysterious original coloration. The entire thing was made of wood, wood that creaked underfoot, creaked in the wind, creaked when the sounds and reverberations came from within it.