Stuff I Wrote
Flash Fiction & Short Stories
From the gods who sit in grandeur,
grace comes somehow violent.
The tree was old, but not as old as the soldier lying at its roots.
Your Uncle Martin and I were twins.
Then he saw it. The Deer. The Deer Man. The ungodly Deer Thing standing beside an old oak tree.
It was her fourteenth birthday and she was pretty sure she was going to have a baby.
Afternoon. Deep afternoon. Long afternoon. Too deep. Too long.
When she saw the typewriter, she knew there had been a mistake.
He woke, and when he woke, as always, he woke hungry.
Tales of an Uncanny City
Totally Free Stories
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Today Desiree and I came to Willows Whiten.