I’ve got a new page up for all things related to Visions from the Veil, so be sure to check it out for giveaway opportunities and more!
Hi there! Here’s a free drabble for you: “Attraction” by me.
That’s what the readouts said. All signs pointed to a massive body hurtling toward Earth. We sent bombs—didn’t destroy it. Sent rockets—couldn’t alter its path.
I radioed the Mars colony to let them know we were changing the polarity on their radiation shield to accommodate for an upcoming solar flare. There were less humans on The Red Planet than this one.
“Ma’am?” came the reply.
“I’m not seeing any danger.”
“You will soon. …Signing off.”
They relied on us. I typed the new code. The meteor would hit them instead.
I sighed and hit enter.
Hey you! Do you like broccoli? I actually love the stuff, because I’m a weirdo who thrives off green and orange foods, but maybe you’ll identify with June. At first.
June slipped her leafy greens to Barkie. The Golden Retriever never refused a snack, after all. She kept this up until Barkie stopped eating.
One trip to the vet confirmed: too much fiber from too much human food damaged her intestines.
“What does that mean?” June said, old enough to know what death was, though she had no experience with it.
“The vet was very clear. He said, ‘You’ll have to put her down.’” Her dad held up a needle. “He even gave us this so we could do it at home.”
Then he stuck the needle in June’s arm.
Tires squeal across cool pavement. It’s been raining, and cars rush around the bend too quickly to notice the dented guardrail.
Below, James scrabbles for purchase, a piece of metal in his side, big as his fist. No arteries severed, no organs shredded, but he’s bleeding out.
One foot up, two feet back. Mud slicks the incline. He tries to climb, slides on down again, finally losing grip entirely. He tumbles and lands hard against the wreck of his car.
James gasps, clutching his side. Brakes screech. A car leaps the rail. He screams as headlights plummet right toward him.
Not a Drop to Drink
Weatherman said it’d be muggy out. Talk about understatement. Humidity hit 100% by 8 AM and kept rising, breaking all records and instruments. Saturation weighed down the phone lines, cutting off communication. Cars couldn’t get traction to move; those already on the road slid right off.
Didn’t take long for people to drown. Every breath came with more water than usable oxygen, and by that evening, those who died outside bloated, as if found face down in a river.
Cameron huddled inside his house. He’d known this would happen. Six dehumidifiers barely kept him dry.
Then the power went out.
If you like what you read and are looking for more of my work, check out At the Hands of Madness on Amazon, or my Patreon, which has both free and subscriber-only work. Or, stay tuned for my upcoming collection, Visions from the Veil. Either way, thanks for stopping by!
Mondays seem to make everyone angry, so here’s a drabble for the day of wrath, and a chance to learn a new word:
Verb: To incriminate or blame somebody for something.
I stole his shovel first. He used it every day, turning soil for this spring’s garden beds. I made sure to wear gloves. His prints only.
One quick whack to my wife’s skull is all it took. Thud. The sound of her hitting the floor, and dirt hitting her body. Maybe I buried her alive. Maybe not. Who knows? Who cares.
Police came last night after an “anonymous” tip. One phone call. Now he and my wife are both gone. Like they say: two birds.
This year, my garden will be the best. Shame I couldn’t use them as fertilizer.
In the mood for something weird? I recently took a look at Death to Fairy Tales. Here’s my review, also posted on Amazon.
Be forewarned: this isn’t a collection of horror or of fairy tales, as you might assume, but an array of some of the strangest, most bizarre stories and poems out there. Granted, there are horror elements I won’t spoil for you, but lets just say that when you ‘meat’ some of these characters, you’ll be glad you don’t know them in real life.
Some parts of the prose are a little too abstract to have a solid landing, but those that work do so quite well. The poetry is more concrete, and the lines that aren’t are mysterious enough to work on multiple levels, leaving the reader thinking rather than confused. One reads, “Future tense/ thrummed its fingers through/ all subsequent galleries,” capturing an ethereal sense of the world that perfectly sums up the New Weird vibe of this collection.
“Death to Fairy Tales” is a kaleidoscopic reinterpretation of the world, and while some of these visions aren’t always clear, they’re all fascinating. Some even have accompanying illustrations, for those of you that enjoy such additions. Perfectly capturing the sense of jamais vu, the strange among the familiar, this is a great collection for those looking for more unusual work.
The collection can be found here.
Looking to support this humble cyborg on his quest to write all the books and afford insulin in the process? Be sure to check out my Patreon! Pledges get at least one book a year, possible audiobooks, even signed copies.