Tag: Short Stories

That stupid Bulwer-Lytton was right, John Moreland thought as he struggled to see where he was going down the dark two-lane road. It really IS a dark and stormy night. Moreland was trying to make his way to his sister’s house, and normally didn’t take this route, but a huge pile-up and traffic jam blocked… Continue reading The Morning After the Nightmare

There was something familiar about the man sitting alone on the station bench reading a carefully folded newspaper. Nelson Wilcox had the unsettling sense of somehow knowing – and yet never having met – the man. It was not a case of having “seen him somewhere before.” This might appear to be a seemingly immaterial… Continue reading The Rough Draft

“True! -nervous -very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why                                will you say that I am mad?” – Edgar Allen Poe The plastic accordion curtain slid back, and he could see into the bathroom. Would it have… Continue reading Farewell Francis

So, you’re thinking about working for Mr. Bob Hensham, huh? Think he’s the cat’s pajamas or something? Think his business is going places, but you’re wondering, why am I going around town telling people that he’s the Devil? I’m really glad you asked me that. Settle down, thanks for the beer, and open them big… Continue reading Bob’s Machine

Miranda couldn’t recall the last time a circus came through town. The flier listed the city basketball court as its venue. Miranda squinted through the bright sun at the banner hanging in the stadium window. It looked vintage, like an advert for Barnum and Bailey’s on display in a museum exhibit. Miranda cast her eyes… Continue reading Pied Piper’s Infernal Circus

No one lives in my house now. You can tell because, at night, there are no lights. People should have lights on at night. Not too late at night, people have to sleep, but around dinnertime or just after, when people go to the den to watch Get Smart or something else with a laugh… Continue reading Plucking the moon from the Bottom of the Ocean

Pat had recently gotten really into staring at ceiling fans, primarily the one in his bedroom, but he wasn’t particular. The one in his bedroom was good. Well not good, but interesting. Sort of. What he meant was that he could look at it for a long time without feeling like he wanted to stop… Continue reading Tether

Isabelle’s admissions portfolio is nearly ready. Brooke has the family narrative, the test scores, and the letters of recommendation. These came from Isabelle’s godmother, who runs a marketing firm, and from their pastor at First Presbyterian. Brooke wrote the third letter herself, in the voice of Isabelle’s nanny, Ellen, and had her sign it. The… Continue reading All the Bullets are Silver

My parents always referred to Ireland as ‘home’. I took that to heart and thought we were home, not understanding this was just a holiday. And being home in Dublin, meant we also had to travel down to my mum’s hometown, Enniscorthy, and visit the relatives there. The trip down was four kids, my mum… Continue reading Power

If you were going about your normal day, how many owls would you need to see before you thought something was wrong? Actually, scratch that. Too soon for that. So, have you ever remembered a show or something from childhood, and you start hunting around the web for it, maybe even start asking people about… Continue reading Episode 10: “The Owls of Olivewood”