Recent Stories
Living in Grotesque
There’s a bomb in the middle of the hotel yard.
“Too late to call the Hazardous Device Squad,” the manager tells the guests. “Please throw all your belongings on top of it. It can go off any moment.”
I look in my suitcase. Manuscripts, an enlarged photo of snow-covered Mount Washington, a first edition of Mother Courage and Her Children (English translation), a box of cheese crackers, an extra pair of socks. My entire life. Not a single piece can be sacrificed.
I eat a handful of crackers, drink a gulp of water and climb back to bed. No need to set the alarm; if an explosion does happen, it’ll wake me up.
First published in Friday Flash Fiction on June 27, 2025.
Arrival
The sign says TRAIL END. Unexpected; isn’t the path supposed to go on for another mile?
I check my map and compass, then turn around and begin trekking back.
Soon I come across another sign. DANGER ZONE: QUICKSAND!
Perplexed; didn’t I hike up this way? I recognize the small pond on my right which was on my left ten minutes ago. Quicksand, where? I no longer bother with the map and compass; think, instead.
I sit down on a log, kick off my boots, and fish out a ham sandwich, corn chips and a Mountain Dew from my knapsack.
This is home.
A shorter version of this story was published in 50 Word stories on November 30, 2023.
Capsized
using a questionable metaphor
the lead prosecutor marvels
why go down with the ship
if not the captain
to drive the point home
he reminds me
of my allegorical status
a mere sailor
I explain
my rank doesn’t matter
because
I am on the ship
it is our ship
there’s no other ship
First published in 50 Word Stories.
(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.”