May the waters spill as they glorify You. May the stones crack and crumble as they praise You. May the skies rend like threadbare garments as they honor You. May the galaxies spin and spend their flames as they bow down to You. May the cosmos return to the impenetrable chaos of the dark depths … Poem: Whither Creation
The story below is a work of fiction. A competitor called in all their remote workers, ones that were hired during you know what. So we did it too. Mandated by next calendar year. People are already pregaming before the big day. Today there was a guy in my normal seat at the cafe. I … Story: Quarantine IX
As the cube drags itself through the drying mud, its path cuts an even sheen into the brown. In later years, when all the water has left for the sky, we can break through the cracked dirt, open it, and discover the blessings underneath.
The story below is a work of fiction. The morning back at work, to the office. All maskless. My state just said to hell with everything and do what you want, and what we wanted, it seems, is to go back to how it was. Mass normalcy bias hypnosis to replace the other fearful hypnosis. … Story: Quarantine VIII
In a different timeline, he was standing on a beach of calm tides, looking across at the orange sunset burst. He might’ve been a little bit taller, a little less weird in the face, more extroverted. Outward with his energy, the things people admit to liking when they murmur to each other. There was a … Story: Prior Restraint
A ghost tries to scare a visitor away from her decrepit house so he isn’t harmed, but her attempts have a much different effect. I stood on the precipice of a grand philosophical conclusion one afternoon, when a group of boys, stepping over the leaf-drowned border of the estate, bantered back and forth loudly enough … Story: Prisoner Invisible
WE HAD A scheduled day off today, but the medusazoans showed up. Protocol dictates we have to make an effort to contact them whenever this happens, but there’s nothing said about recording or even logging the event when no one is on an active shift, as it is during our working days. Technicalities and such; … Story: The Ezekiel Triptych
“‘A squat grey building of only thirty-four stories,’” quoted my sparrow, Jordie, perched on my shoulder, the sound of human language underlaid with her natural staccato chirps. “‘Doorless. Windowless.’” Jordie repeated “windowless” a few moments later, perhaps thinking the intense clamor of birds above us, on the perimeter of the building, drowned out the word. … Story: Cardinal Virtues
The story below is a work of fiction. Back to work tomorrow, in eight hours. Last minute preparations. What will it be like; we still have to wear masks. What will it look like, work friends that have been disembodied for the last four months, trying to be social. What’s the protocol for stepping into … Story: Quarantine VII
Worlds upon worlds in endless succession rise up from the raw material ooze below, and present themselves for consideration. After a length of time, as though they tire of waiting for a decision, many of them ascend to the ceiling to submerge themselves back into the primal-matter plasma, to be broken down and remolded for … Story: A Creative Process
The story below is a work of fiction. My gym reopened. Waiting in my car, in the parking lot. Should I go in. What if it’s a trap. Owners now lead a COVID-19 cult, worshipping a pestilence god only found in Dungeons & Dragons campaign manuals, luring human bodies back through their doors to trap … Story: Quarantine VI
I posted this about a decade ago here, but I never posted the actual text. I suppose it doesn’t matter that much but a part of me will feel restless until I actually do, especially I mentioned I would do it way back when. So here it is. It was inspired by something I had … Story: Eve’s Geometry
This was a story I wrote some time ago for Discovery Christian Church, for a Christmas season service that focused on storytelling and art. The story was printed into a little booklet and sold after the service. The money went to a charity, I think. The art was done by one Kevin Rupert. One of … Story: A Native’s Story
The story below is a work of fiction. One of three birds has been waking me up in the morning. Windows open–rude awakenings are my unjust reward, straight from the bosom of Mother Nature, for allowing her to get closer to me. Their calls are words. One says “Germany, Germany, Germany.” The other says “I … Story: Quarantine V
The story below is a work of fiction. We went somewhere. It was a sort of fraternal hall with shopping. Perfectly healthy folks demeaning themselves with masks, hunching over their carts pathetically because standing up straight like a biped with proper lumbar curvatures was too much to ask. Heaven help them if they start smoking … Story: Quarantine IV
The story below is a work of fiction. It’s come to this. Did everything humanly possible in my matchbox apartment that I could do: meals for the week, wiped everything down, swept corners like those marines in Aliens, swept them again, ironed anything fabric, cleaned my computer of dust and questionable downloads. My phone. I … Story: Quarantine III
The story below is a work of fiction. He went on a date. It was illegal in 40 states, maybe theirs. She texted if he wanted her to wear a mask but he forgot to reply. She wore a headscarf but no not for religious reasons. Her family was from the Maghreb but she looked … Story: Quarantine II
This is a story I submitted to the 2020 Parsec Ink short story contest. It wasn’t accepted, obviously, so here it is, for free. Mrs. James Livermore’s lantern’s light gleamed pale orange onto the weary faces of little Liliana Livermore and her younger brother, Junior, upon their hasty approach to Mrs. Livermore and myself. The … Story: The Lesser Founts at Ilmarinton
The story below is a work of fiction. Top link in my news story feed was a travel blogger having to file for unemployment because of COVID-19. Imagine being an “influencer.” Calling yourself that. What to put on the census, what do you tell people at parties. Practice saying it in front of the mirror … Story: Quarantine
The story below is a work of fiction. I was born after Mom died. The delivering doctor was an Artifice, a high-function, high-powered—and high-priced—android. Mom and Dad only had enough credits to save either Mom or me from the complication. Dad told me, when I was old enough, Mom made the decision without hesitation. The … Story: Imbolc Eve