There were some short stories I shopped around but that never found a publisher, and I can’t say I am surprised, since they were all most definitely creepy and designed to make you feel bad. So, I have published them myself on Kindle.
“Strong Coffee” will be free to download until October 21, “Boxcutter” October 23-27, and “Double” from October 31 to November 4, 2016.
Strong Coffee – On Halloween in 1923, a once skeptical professor is forced to seek out a medium to resolve a haunting in her New York townhouse. (4,100 words, murder, supernatural)
Boxcutter – There are monsters out in the desert. Nathaniel finds work in the city, killing them before they’re born, but came from the desert too. (3,300 words, dystopian horror, serial murder, monsters)
Double – After an accident in a test run of a new cloning scanner, a lab assistant ends up living with her clone. A short story about self-love and self-harm. (5,600 words, a reflective story about having sex with your clone; no happy ending)
Circlet Press has published one of my very short erotic stories online! Read it here. It’s about fantasies and cyborgs.
Three-sentence stories about characters from my longer stories. If I’ve done them right, they should be enjoyable on their own.
Continue reading “Microstories: Old Friends”
Elly’s girlfriend lives inside her head. That doesn’t mean she isn’t real.
In 2009, Crossed Genres published one of my short stories. The period of exclusivity has long since run out, so I re-published it as a stand-alone story.
Get it here:
Barnes & Noble/Nook
Getting older isn’t easy, even in this modern age. It’s not just the aches, phantom and otherwise. You forget things. A summer’s day 40 years ago can seem like yesterday, but you can’t remember what the doctor told you just a few days ago.
Daphne turns off Dr Phil and goes into the kitchen, makes herself a cup of tea. It’s a dark day outside the smudged windows of her apartment, grey clouds over the domed roofs of the city, the zigzagging lights of its elevated transport lines.
She is thinking of the day she got her first synthetic parietal implant. It was cold in the examination room, and she pulled the crisp blanket closer around herself. It was blue, spun of rough wool. She doesn’t get cold anymore. That’s nice.
Daphne goes into the living room and turns Dr Phil on. He’s talking to a mother of three who is struggling with depression.
At four, the doctor comes. She doesn’t remember his name. He calls her by hers, checks her wiring and asks her questions. She can’t answer all of them. It’s not easy being old. You forget things.
“It’s not the aging,” the doctor tells her in a voice just a touch too patient, as if he is growing tired of repeating himself. “It’s because your brain is almost completely synthetic. You’re not able to learn new things anymore.”
After he’s gone, Daphne goes into the living room and turns Dr Phil on. He’s talking to a mother of three who is struggling with depression. The mother says she wants to get off the antidepressants because they dull her senses. She calls it emotional flat-lining.
Daphne goes into the kitchen, makes herself a cup of tea.