A Year in Abeyance I decided to take 2026 off. No social media; no media at all: just me and my sailboat meandering around the Pacific. I left San Diego on December 31, 2025. “Call if you need anything,” I told my brother as I left. I’d left my phone at home. 365 days. Warm…
Tag: flash fiction
My House Doesn’t Trust Me
This story is a response to the Muse on Monday prompt of April 6, 2026: Write a story about a character breaking into their own house. My House Doesn’t Trust Me I was five steps down my front path on the way to the car when I realized I’d forgotten my keys inside the now-locked…
Grandpa’s Head
Grandpa’s Head “There’s a head inside that.” Grandma pointed to the box on the highest bookshelf. I mentioned this at dinner, expecting laughter. Everyone just nodded. “Your great-grandfather found it a century ago, completely mummified.” “That slash across its mouth, ugh!” “And the naked lady tattoo.” The adults snickered. The kids looked fascinated. “Can we…
The First Night
This story is a response to the Muse on Monday prompt of March 23, 2026: Write a story about going to sleep. The First Night The lights die with a mechanical clunk and darkness suffocates me like a woolen shroud. I try not to move on my bunk. Every breath seems to make the metal…
The Webs
The Webs The webs felt like a shriek of horror in a fetid boneyard. I staggered, almost blind with despair. Just cut one. The air felt tainted, a gaseous rot that crawled over my boots, turning everything leprous and foul. Cut one. My spirit screaming for me to run, I brought my knife blade against…
Three Inches Blueward
Three Inches Blueward I’m regretting agreeing to help my fifth-dimensional neighbor move. “Bring it forward.” We’re carrying his couch through the front door. He’s inside and it’s apparently stuck on something. “Good. Now go about three inches blueward.” “Blueward?” “Yes! Hurry, this thing is heavy.” “How?” “I’m trying to use words you know, Steve! You…
Beyond Reality
Beyond Reality “So, tell us about your . . . model,” Mrs. Watson said. The class’s attention was riveted on Kurt’s solar system model. It had 14 planets. The tenth one was a bagel. “First, the sun is a giant lightning bug,” Kurt said, “so it blinks on and off. The first planet—Klaxon—is all metal….
Strategic
Strategic Jenny and I stepped out of Giordano’s Pizza near Willis Tower, and the air shook. The top of the tower was a fireball. 9/11 flashbacks flooded me. We ran. “Who would do this?” Jenny had her phone open. “The news says it was Zimbabwe.” “Zimbabwe? Why?” Where even was Zimbabwe? “They hate our government….
The Off-White Showdown
This story is a response to the Muse on Monday prompt of March 2, 2026: Write a story about giving someone bad news. The Off-White Showdown I am truly terrified of this woman. She’s glowering down at me from the fitting platform, her eyes crackling like lightning on the prairies of Saskatchewan where I grew…
The First Sundeath
The First Sundeath It was the first day. Ever. While exploring this new world, the woman noticed the sun was lower. “It’s falling,” she said. “It’s bleeding,” the man said. “See, its blood is spreading along the horizon.” “This must be the end of the world.” “It was a good life.” The sun was gone….
The Green-Walled Treehouse 