Posts tagged #Fiction

The Initiation

“We’re here,” Sophia’s mother said, gently touching her shoulder. Sophia woke slowly, lifting her head from the window of the passenger seat and tilting it toward the clock on the car’s center console. She squinted for a moment, then rubbed her eyes before the green blob of light became a readable LED display.

“Geez, Mom, it’s already tomorrow,” Sophia mumbled, still groggy.

“I know, honey. But we have to do this tonight. Come on.” Elizabeth Harris stared at herself in the rearview mirror, gazing into her own tired green eyes. It took a moment to convince herself, but eventually she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. The forest preserve parking lot was empty, save for them, and Elizabeth made sure to park as far from the area’s lights as possible. She opened the trunk and took out a leather handbag, which she slung over her shoulder, then walked around the car to the passenger door and opened it for her daughter.

Sophia looked up at her mother through overgrown chestnut bangs. “Is it going to hurt?”

Posted on April 16, 2015 .


My Goddess first came to me when I was a young man. I was twenty-five years old, and an outcast. I dreamt of a horrible world, one even worse than the one I already lived in. It was filled with burnt, decaying buildings, and ravenous children hungering to devour me.  They chased me throughout the festering city, clawing at my flesh whenever I stopped to catch my breath. I was so frightened, and then I saw Her.

Posted on January 1, 2014 and filed under Creative.


Once, there were three of them. It was decades ago, when options for friendships were limited to other children on the block, and it didn’t matter much if you liked the other kids there or not. Their parents would gather on the porch each night, along with their other neighbors, and William, Terry, and Joshua would play tag, or hide-and-seek. Sometimes, when her parents weren’t fighting, Jessica from across the street would join them. The trio of boys called themselves The Three Musketeers, though none of them had read the book, or even seen a film based upon it. Terry had seen the book on his family’s shelves and was in awe of the titular swashbuckling heroes pictured on the cover. Upon presenting it to his friends, the decision to bestow the title upon themselves was unanimous. None of them realized that the Three Musketeers had a fourth companion, though Jessica knew, and secretly considered herself their d’Artagnan.

The boys grew apart, as children are wont to do. There was no particular event or moment where the friendship fell apart; it simply dissolved over time. As the trio got older, they built friendships based on bonds stronger than immediate location. By the time they’d entered high school, they only saw each other in passing and the occasional block party. Their parents convinced them to share a limo to prom their senior year of high school. None of them had achieved a level of popularity that would keep them from consorting with each other, and there was no animosity to make the ride awkward. All of them agreed it was a good night, and none of them had spoken since.

Posted on October 5, 2013 and filed under Creative.

An Obituary

JEROME HAMMOND, resident of Northbrook, IL, passed away on August 26th, 2013, at the age of 96. He was finally done in by his fourth heart attack.

Born at his childhood home in Chicago, Jerome was renowned for being the most hated person in the world, by percentage. Although monsters like Adolph Hitler and Joseph Stalin tend to claim this title in terms of sheer numbers, Mr. Hammond broke new ground in this category because practically everyone he met hated him. 99.8% of people who came into contact with him disliked him immensely. His daughter disowned him at fifteen. His son was famously quoted saying, “He isn’t good for anything, even an inheritance.” His own mother described him as “a complete and utter disappointment.”

From a young age, Jerome was insufferable. He found a way to effortlessly display every negative character trait known to man. As a child, he was a bully. He channelled his frustrations at younger children, tormenting them at every opportunity. On more than one occasion, his peers confronted him about his conduct. In every instance, he cowered like a wuss until they let him be, and then returned to his reprehensible behavior. As he entered high school and realized no one was intimidated by him anymore, he began to instead harass immigrants and minorities. He was particularly fond of mocking the Irish, even after it had fallen out of vogue.

Jerome never learned from his mistakes, and blamed every misfortune to befall him on someone else. Every hare-brained scheme that failed was the fault of a co-conspirator, and every car he rear-ended had a faulty brake light. He heaped unreasonable expectations on every person he met, and took no responsibility for himself. He was exceptionally rude to sales clerks and waitstaff. There are no recorded instances of him receiving an unmolested meal upon returning to a restaurant for a successive visit.

By contrast, every good thing to happen to him was, in his view, entirely his own doing and richly deserved. Jerome did not believe in chance. Every scratch-off lottery ticket that did not result in a win was a misprint; every win was due to his refined scratching technique and “system.”

When asked how a man such as he could ever get a woman to sleep with him, let alone marry him, his wife of sixty years, Margaret, responded, “He paid me. He was a bastard, and a pain in the ass, and he had the most annoying voice. But he mostly left me alone. Once he had a couple kids, he never touched me again, thank God. Jerry was a means to an end, and that’s it.” Margaret, for her part, is the sixteenth-most hated person in the world, disliked by 92.24% of the people who have met her.

Jerome is succeeded by his aforementioned wife, Margaret(84), son(Robert, 63), and daughter(Dinah, 59).  In addition, he has four grandchildren. They are reasonably well-adjusted, all things considered.

Jerome has already been cremated, and the world is richer for having lost him.

Posted on August 26, 2013 and filed under Creative.