A short piece composed in summer 2012 probably inspired by the works of David Ohle whose influence continues to bubble below the surface. I’m just hoping to capture one of those bubbles, maybe even let it shine for a bit off my teeth, cleanse this rot. Here is an excerpt:
“I’ve split buzzards to sing: bloated tissue, psychic cells quiver neon. Nothing solid to botch the epidemic. The current is blubbery. In the end, Feng doesn’t realize the pain or what electric wires do. They power the city, cake membrane repellent, a haze of clamorous buzz. A buzzard’s brain, frozen open, land-locked and ready to pummel, is the world’s tramp. They shot me. Ode to my struck neck: a beak squawks, volts and rubber splotches. I need a new hitch to sink this crumb: the android, the microbe, the pentagram halo. Feng’s pocket glows when I stroke mashed tongue, lick air. Weathervanes go funny. Not much to tell. I’ll give it a whirl.”
Bartleby Snopes picked this one up. Thank you, Nathaniel. I’m honored. A student of mine confessed to me that his worst fear was being attacked by a group of women and that’s exactly what goes down for poor Ben in the story. This one gets quite surreal. Also, I had a lot of Italian horror tropes floating around in my mind that needed release (cue the title). I hope this is a great read for you.
Sometimes people do unexpected things in desperate situations. We catch our main character at that pivotal point in his life when everything he holds sacred is on the verge of collapse and watch him squirm. He surprised me.
A noir-pulp tale of love and pursuit inspired by B-movie tropes, love, and Frank Sinatra’s “Only the Lonely” album, which I couldn’t stop listening to during the creation of this story. In many ways, as is often the case, I am the protagonist, or he is some part of myself in combat with the Cannibal inside of me. There is also a longing in this story and not to mention a perverse celebration of life’s mysteries. Thank you to Pulp Metal Magazine for embracing this with a most jovial dose of enthusiasm.
Short, Fast, and Deadly, indeed. This one is about mutation and identity, two of my favorite themes. Thank you to Joseph A. W. Quintela for his keen sense of taste.
The summer heat must have been getting to me. Well, that and Treasure Island, which I was reading while writing this piece. Thank you to Andrew Borgstrom for showing me how different this piece could be. Place….
Romance and betrayal, transcendence and misery: all wrapped up in one neat little package. This was originally hosted by Wonderfort, which I loved, but at the time of editing this (8 months after publication), Wonderfort seems to have disappeared. That said, Danse Macabre also took this piece, a blunder on my part, but in a serendipitous way, things seems to have worked themselves out.
A two hundred word flash piece edited by Dogzplot editor, Barry Graham. This short piece is actually more memoir than fiction. If you end up in a small town in Ibaraki prefecture by the name of “Bando,” seek out an establishment called “Pure Heart,” if it still exists. I hope it does. Somehow, I know it does.