A blue popsicle stain ran across the boy’s cheek like a bruise, and his band-aided chin covered a scrape, probably acquired during a game of tag which ended abruptly when skin met pavement. I remember being a boy his age, and I’d had a few cops set me…
Volatile Fiction
An endeavor of fiction — beautiful, inverted, paranoid, never trivial. Short stories, thoughts, and visions of an erratic insomniac.
Scroll DownMatt Klein stood behind the bar of his tavern on Howe Avenue. It was on the edge of the city, close enough to attract some city dwellers, but far enough from downtown to be affordable. When Matt's parents left their home and modest assets to him, combined with his small…
There is an abandoned house in the woods north of Cinder Creek, and it was long rumored that if you found it and entered, someone you knew would die. There were a myriad of theories which accounted for the exact type and specimen of evil which caused this; whether curse…
Jack looked down at the smoke coming from his cigarette as it wisped away into the wet, cold air. Sitting in the parking lot on the side of the laundromat, he laughed to himself. I'm never going to quit these fucking things. Fuck it. Another hit, another day. He took…
When I walked into my sister's room the next morning, most of her things were gone. Her bed was unmade, as usual, but most of her dresser was empty with the drawers still half open. Dad was screaming at her again last night. Every time I thought it couldn't get…
We've all felt bitterness, and I sit here with mine, alone at a small, corner table as the rest of the ballroom spins in celebration. I'm watching her as she dances in her long, white dress, her neck and wrists circled in lace, her waist hugged by a corset, hourglass-tight.…
"Jenna. Are you awake, Jenna?" She was awake, but just barely, in the state before vision emerges, when all sounds feel distant and flat without location. There was a hand rubbing her shoulder, and her eyelids were still heavy. She tried to open her eyes, but it was difficult. She…
Tom held the steering wheel with one hand, while his arm rested out the window of the boxy, old pickup truck with "Tree Pros Landscaping" painted on the side. He had no idea how Cal had gotten the truck, only that he must have stolen it either from a garage…