In the Blend


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This is another flash fiction story I originally posted on Reddit:

Joaquin was working late. Carlos had called in sick the way he did the day after every payday, and Joaquin was stuck covering half of his shift. It would be a 14 hour day when it was all said and done. Fucking bastard.

Tonight he was stuck scrubbing out the industrial blender. Used to chop up beef into fine fine chunks for canned chili, it was a disgusting mess every time he cleaned it. Scrape scrape scrape, scrub scrub scrub, ad nauseum.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t even notice Esteban walk in and start mopping the floor. He noticed the click when Esteban’s mop handle hit the “on” button on the blender he was working on though.

There wasn’t even enough time to open his mouth to scream.


The Monster Under the Bed


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“Come on little buddy,” the voice underneath my bed pleads. “Just come down here, it’s great. Like a party. We’ve got games and toys and every TV show you could want.”
“I’m not coming,” I say stubbornly. “I know what you want. You’re a liar, god fucking dammit! You ate Jonas, he was my best friend. You stripped him limb by limb as he begged for his life, you think I forgot that? And besides, your ‘temptations’ are outdated.” The monster doesn’t reply, stubborn bastard that he is.
“Thad, what’s that light under your bed,” I still hear Jonas say in my dreams, the last words he spoke. I roll over and try to sleep again. The psychologists said the monster would go away when I got older, when I got to the end of high school. My 28th birthday was last month though, and it’s still under my bed. The monster doesn’t care where I am, or how long it’s been, just where I sleep. Sometimes Jonas is down there with it too. They really want me to join the party.

In the Air


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I’m flying. Soaring above the clouds. The fields all look circular. Why are the fields circles? They look square from down on the ground. I dive through a flock of birds headed to Costa Rica to wait out the winter, narrowly missing a direct hit with one. Flying dreams are a common occurrence for me, as well as lucid ones, but never have I had both at the same time. This is great.

I can see cars now, they’re like little toys. People too–they look just like the tiny bugs that hover around porch lights from dusk until dawn, little specks of things that I’ve never bothered to learn the name of. I look to my right and I see a city with giant arches jutting out from it. It’s funny that I would dream of St. Louis, as I’ve never been there.

Except…except the thought of St. Louis makes me remember something about having to go there for a meeting, getting on a Boeing 747, and looking out over the late-summer landscapes when a man started yelling. There was a giant BOOM, followed instantly with fire and then a sudden lightness. I realize I’m strapped to an airplane seat, and then I start screaming, while the little people get bigger and bigger.

This story was originally published by me on Reddit, under my user name Deusmachina.   If you’re a Redditor hit me up!

In the Dark


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This place is strange, it has no walls,
It has no doors, it has no halls
And it has this peculiar smell,
I can’t make it out, but I know it well

Where am I now?
How did I get here?
And why am I so filled with fear?

Something moves squishily through the dark,
I pray for some light, even a spark

I finally place the scent, the one I know so well,
The smell is blood, and this place is Hell

Sorry, gotta admit this isn’t my strongest horror poem. I’m just trying to get back into the horror poetry game, and constant practice seems to be the best way to do that. Next up: new rhyming schemes.

The Wild


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It’s been fifteen years since I killed Ed Child,
Fifteen years since that day in the wild

He ran away through the forest, and I ran in chase,
And then I put a bullet through his pleading face

As I buried him I knew I’d done a mortal sin,
His accusing gaze told me heaven won’t let me in

I could tell you my reasons,
Maybe you’d see,
But I think more than likely you’d disagree with me

Don’t think I went without punishment,
It didn’t go away,
For 15 years later, he still haunts me this day

He’s standing here now, right outside my door,
Oh Jesus, oh God, I can’t take anymore!

Kindle Boards Writer’s Cafe


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Hey everyone, just wanted to share with you a neat little forum I found. As you probably gathered from the title, it’s the Writer’s Cafe on the Kindle boards. I found out about it after reading about how Hugh Howey and Amanda Hocking used to hang out there before hitting it big. I love talking to other authors, so I Googled it immediately.

And now I’m addicted. Never before have I found a place that’s more supportive or informative for writers. There’s lots of people there sharing their stories and giving tips on how to break into the writing world. If I’d found it a year ago it would have  helped me save a lot of time, as there’s not so much need to experiment after finding this board. If you have an idea, you can probably find someone on there who’s already done it and see how it worked out for them.

Anyhow, here’s a link to the boards for those of you who don’t want to look it up on Google. If you’re a writer or an aspiring writer, I recommend you check it out. After that, get back to work writing and editing!

Writing and editing away


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Hey there everyone, just wanted to give you an update on where I am right now.  Sorry it’s been a bit since I last posted on the craft, life does have a tendency to get in the way at times.

I’m still editing one of my novels, but it’s almost done now.  Soon I’ll have it ready for the editor, so look for it in a few months!  It’s a tale about a group of campers up on a mountain for a party when they find that the end of the world has permanently extended their vacation.  They adapt and survive, but as they learn to find food and fend for themselves a strange, bear-like animal begins hunting them from the woods.

I’m also writing another novel.  I just hit page 200.  It feels like it’s starting to wrap up, I think this book will be around 60-70k words when finished, as opposed to the 100k+ of my first two books.  It’s nice to work in a bit of a more constrained space. Continue reading

H.A.N.S.E.L. and Gretel


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Writing a short story about the question we all wondered as children after hearing Hansel and Gretel: What if Hansel was a steampunk android? Look for that and more in my upcoming short H.A.N.S.E.L. and Gretel.

Starlight and Stardust (first draft)


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“I’ll restore you to a full head of hair of you sign the contract,” I said, trying to put as much force into my words as possible.

Steve glanced down from the illuminated mirror to the contract for a split second, and then back to the mirror.  “You’re asking too much,” he says.

“More than your leeching agent and manager?  More than the studio, sucking away your skill and making a thousand times off of your effort than you make?  They say you’re rich, but you make but a fraction of what you earn for the studio.”

“Still, it’s too much.  I don’t know what else is out there.”

“Believe me, not much.  Not anything better than what I’m offering you.  I’m a liar, I admit, but would I lie to you about this?”

“I don’t know,” he says.  This is typical of the Hollywood sort.  Actors like to pretend they’re geniuses, like the characters they so often portray, when in reality their intelligence is, on average, lower than the norm. Continue reading