Flash Fiction - A Wonderful Thing

A terminally ill youth dreams for three minutes before dying.

Something fuzzy touched his face, just above the bridge of his nose. Benjamin strained his gaze upward, but it leapt farther up his forehead. Alarmed, he swatted his face with his hands, though once they touched the culprit, he froze. Eyebrows. His fingers moved along them as he scrunched them together and moved them apart, and then he felt around the rest of his head. There was hair where his smooth scalp should be, and lots of it. It was curly, just like he thought it would be, and thick, so thick that he feared his small hands might get lost in it. But he twirled and tangled his fingers in it, all the while tilting his head back so he might catch a glimpse of the locks he thought might be brown. 

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Short Story - The Amazing Henry

A lighting technician's mundane life is interrupted when he falls off a ladder and lands on the ceiling of a strange house.

    Henry opened his eyes to see that he was much farther from dead than he first supposed, though he quickly shut them upon realizing the world had turned upside down. He must be imagining things. In a cautious sort of way, he began to let his eyelids part again, hugging his legs into chest as he did. He caught a glimpse of the wires that dangled from the ceiling of the house, only they were right in front of him, and within arm’s reach. A wave of motion sickness overtook Henry, and he forced his eyes closed to fight the sudden nausea that accompanied it. He was upside down. He tried to steady his writhing bowels long enough to recount the turn of events that led him here.


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Short Story - Fear

A teenage boy unravels the mystery behind a series of killings and the role an ominous house played in them.

I can feel my eyes wandering up to my reflection. I feel like I shouldn’t look. I don’t know why. But now I’m staring at it. Something sinister lies behind its eyes. Behind my eyes. It reminds me of when I was young, and I tried to run away from my own shadow. Maybe it’s chasing me again, this time in mirrors. I wonder, sometimes, if it sees things I don’t, into places I’ve never visited, far beneath the flesh and under the bone, where nightmares live, away from where I can find them except in sleep. I could be a monster.

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Flash Fiction - Once Upon a Time

A boy follows his older brother's attempts to free a princess from a dragon in this satirized look at the fairytale genre.

I wasn’t surprised at all when he volunteered to rescue the Princess. I don’t think anyone was. Right away I knew I’d follow him, but not because I didn’t think he could rescue her. I caught a glimpse of the Princess, once, through a small gap in the procession of nobles fluttering around her. A scarlet dress held her slender body, around which all time seemed to freeze, for just that moment, as two jeweled irises glanced at me from a flawlessly formed face. I don’t know how long I stood there, locked in time, with everything still around me, afraid to blink as I watched those eyes. Samson could have anyone. He could have any girl he wanted. But he had to want her.

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Coming Soon: Novel - The Window

A reinvention of J.M. Barrie's classic Peter Pan, this story depicts Neverland as a post-industrial Victorian society and Peter Pan as a kidnapper whose vanity leads him to seek eternal youth. Jerome Morgenstern, an ordinary boy thrust into these fantastic circumstances, seeks to rescue his missing brother, while trying to evade capture himself. Aided by his brother's best friend, Bianca, and his loyal dog, Ballard, Jerome finds himself in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse meant to test his moral boundaries as well as his own grip on reality.

Short Story - The House

A boy who claims to be afraid of nothing visits a house that shows peoples' worst fears.

    They say the thing you fear most can be found in the house.
    As we plod toward it, the bronze sunset that once made the forest look so inviting rusts away, and the darkness that replaces it makes the trees look sinister. Bare save for the wrist-thick kudzu vines that coil around them, they now loom overhead, enclosing the road in a skeletal embrace. The silence of the night is deafening. Tim looks back. But I don’t.

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Short Play - The Well

A hitman strikes up a humorous conversation with his first victim from the grave.

          MARCUS:

               You sure are talkative for a dead guy.

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