Recent Stories
Sweepstakes
Lucky this morning, I got the Loaf of Bread, the second highest prize in the festival’s random drawing. (First place, the Festival Medal is beautiful artwork but who can eat copper?)
The raffle is rigged that every attendee end up with a knickknack; this way all feel part of the Community. Still, I can read those jealous eyes, most wanted the Loaf of Bread.
My idiot brother has only received the Law. He shows me what it says, Thou Shalt Serve Those Superior To Thee.
“Cheer up, man,” I tell him. “At least you also got something.”
First published in Friday Flash Fiction on August 13, 2025.
Objectively
Phone call
Editor: “Quite an article you sent my way, Gary. Accepted! Surrealistic, absurd, mysterious. I can tell there’s a message hidden somewhere. Between us buddies, please throw me a clue. Just a hint, okay? Unless, of course, it’s a secret.”
Writer: “Frankly, Hugh… I don’t remember. Let me take a gander.”
Editor: “Well?”
Writer: “Well, nothing. I can’t recall what I was thinking when I cobbled it together. The long and short of it… zilch. Poor selection of words, empty phrases. Must confess, I hate the story and despise myself for submitting such a load of horseshit. If you can find it in your good heart, please forgive me.”
Editor: “Quit the self-flagellation, crazy man. I love the piece more and more. It’s the next Editor’s Choice, hands down.”
A shorter version of this story was published in Friday Flash Fiction on July 25, 2025.
Catcher Malek
None of us could figure out what the hell caused Dave Malek to go totally nuts yesterday.
First he poisoned his family and the dog. Then he took his shotgun and drove around town, blowing away his poker buddies one by one. And before the police could finally overpower him, Malek still managed to knock off Santa Claus in front of Walmart.
This morning when Sheriff Harrington enters the jail, he finds Malek reading Catcher In The Rye, many a murderer’s prime excuse since the Lennon assassination.
“Why, Dave,” bellows Harrington, “why did you kill your wife and kids, then your friends, then Santa?!”
Malek looks up from the book. “Family first.”
This story was first published in Six Sentences on November 4, 2024
Linda
I go to Linda’s beauty parlor
appearance enhancement business
once a month to get my hair done
I ain’t no beauty and
Linda’s parlor is in Linda’s garage and
to my and eve’body’s knowledge
Linda runs her enterprise and
drives her car and lives her life without
licenses permits or other gov’mental approval
we often get interrupted ‘cause
Linda’s also sellin’ home made shampoos
powerful potions and oryentul spice mixes
from the very garage she cuts hair
the cus’mers bang the door five times
that’s the signal they’re comin’ in peace
on a purely microeconomic quest
day in day out
Linda and her clients
flip the bird to
bossy institutions unwanted unneeded
First published in Six Sentences on August 7, 2025
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Win
(prosimetrum)
victory
you thrust forward
and success
you draw blood
his blood ends up on you
on your hands
on your shirt
a few drops on your face
Blood transfer (a wash, in a way).
reality
there was never a dispute
never a quarrel
never an issue
only the bayonet
between the two of you
Now, one peasant less.
The bayonet was government issued.
First published in AntipodeanSF.
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
The Ultimate Judge
The prison doctor informs the warden that 24601 should be checked by a dermatologist and suggests one practicing in the area.
O’Neil, a particularly brutal guard, is assigned to take the inmate to the doctor. After a thorough examination, the specialist concludes that the lesion on 24601’s shoulder is only eczema.
As they’re leaving, the doctor notices a suspicious mole on O’Neil’s nose and advises him to come back for a full dermoscopic evaluation including tissue biopsy.
It turns out to be skin cancer.
Life is unfair, says O’Neil.
Life evens the score, says 24601.
First published in Friday Flash Fiction.
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble -- Shakespeare (in Macbeth)
Be yourself; everyone else is already taken — Oscar Wilde
Questions
sleet shots pinging the window
clickety-clacking is the tram
neighbors talking politics
it’s mid-morning
maybe close to noon
why is it still inky dark
or am I dreaming
no
turns out
I haven’t opened my eyes yet
it’s nice and soothing
the closest thing to sincere peace
what if I stay like this
eyelids glued shut
can I also turn off my ears
will the world go away
First published in 50 Word Stories.
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Short shorts
Linear
Logical Man was supportive of our idea. “You guys seem to have cracked it wide open. Getting rid of the Devil would cleanse us of our sins and frailty since he’s behind all that’s wrong with this world. As we well know, the Devil is in the detail, so if you find a way to eliminate every detail, he’ll have no place to hide.”
After a mildly promising start our crusade quickly came crashing down, and we had no choice but to give up.
Logical Man explained: “While you were busy annihilating details, the Devil created twice as many.”
Warmth
Tiny little things, the THOOP rechargeable hand warmers my mother sent me for Christmas performed beyond the highest expectations. They proved especially useful during the recent arctic vortex. True, I still lost a couple of fingers and a thumb to frostbite but, just imagine, it could’ve been so much worse!
Inheritance
Be nice to her, otherwise she’ll write you out of her will.
But I can’t stand her; she’s an unbearable arrogant old hag.
That’s exactly what I meant by “otherwise.”