Spectral Assets

Art by Sabrina

"Hey Jay, are you buzzy right now?”

"Did you just say buzzy?"

"Busy. Busy. Sorry. Are you busy right now?"

"Why did you say ‘buzzy’?"

"Slip of the tongue, tongue, I swear."

"Sure, Fred, sure."

"I swear! Sorry."

"...fine. What do you want?" 

"I'm so sorry about my slip of the tongue. I didn't mean to imply anything." 

"Sure, sure. What did you want?"

"Well, Jay, I… uh… I was wondering if you could teach me how to dance."

"Really Fred. Really."

"What do you mean? I hear you're a great dancer."

"Yeah? You want me to tell you where the nearest flower is, you need some pollen pointers? Some insect interpretive dance? Fuck you."

"No. Jay! I swear I didn't mean anything. I heard you have some great moves and I could use pointers."

"You mean it?"

"I swear, Jay, I swear." 

"You're not putting me on?." 

"I'd never - I've known you most of your life."

"That's what, a month?" 

"A month, a year, who’s counting? I know you have the moves and I want to learn."

"I suppose you’re not wrong."

"Well, will you help me?"

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, Jay - I have a strong urge and I need to see something special." 

"Something special?" 

"Yeah, I want a mate with... well... a certain spectral asset."

"Fred, please spit it out." 

"Jay, sorry. I want you to teach me to dance so I can finally see some boo bees." 

A Family Mystery Uncovered [2]

It was a Sunday morning like any other in the Poste household. Mom made breakfast while Tina, the youngest, bounced around like a possessed rubber ball. Her sister, Meg, slowly emerged from the nest of blankets and teddy bears she called bed. Dad was conspicuously absent from the table; it took the girls a full five minutes to find him to tell him breakfast was ready. He arrived on the scene with a tattered notebook in hand.

The Main Character Ignored the Warning Label [128]

The doctor looked over the man sitting on the examination table. She looked at his wife, who had accompanied him. It was a strange match - some blonde model and a gross, blob of a man. A blue blob.

"How exactly did this happen?" the doctor asked, doing her best to keep a neutral tone. The two were quick to blame each other, each pushing into the story before the other had gotten even a sentence out. The doctor was patient though, and the story emerged gradually.

Mash Up Two Classic Fairy Tales into One Story [61]

"What do you mean I have to kiss you?" the little girl asked of the frog she held in her hand. The frog, for its part, stared blankly ahead.

"Well, if you insist!" the girl puckered up and gave the frog the tiniest peck. A moment passed and nothing happened. The girl placed the frog on the ground and it hopped into the underbrush, certainly as confused as a frog can be.

The girl left as well, going to find her favorite spot - a little stump in a small grove where she could stoke her imagination. Normally it was her castle or tower or (on one occasion) a giant mushroom complete with talking caterpillar. This time, however, it was her place to mourn.

Something Valuable Has Been Stolen [124]

(To push myself to write a bit more, I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo for the month of July.)

The Huntress awoke to the sound of her door clacking against its frame. Thoughts splashed into her mind like a bucket of thrown water; did I lock the door? is someone here? is someone trying to kill me? The darkness provided no answers.

After a minute of careful listening, the Huntress lit up the oil lamp she kept near her bed. Everything in her room was in its place. The antlered elk-head trophy's eyes reflected the light from the small lamp. So too did the polished rifle leaning against the wall she had used to claim the elk's life. She slid out of bed and chose to take the light instead of the rifle as she entered the main room of the cabin.

The Squire

I was sweating so much even shifting my weight produced an audible squish as the soaked padding squeezed between iron and flesh. It was at this point I realized I just wanted him to kill me.

Him, of course, referring to Sir Kim. A master swordsman from the orient, he had come to our little section of the world to challenge the best fighters we had to offer. A tripartite pursuit of knowledge, fame, and wealth had thus far earned him a reputation in hundreds of taverns, scores of courts, and dozens of languages. He was undefeated and, I suspected, would remain so after this particular fight.

"Ben's House"

Her hands trembled uncontrollably and she felt moments away from being sick. Still though, she approached the door, scuffing closer as only a nine-year-old can. She promised Ben she'd come visit, but she never expected his house to be so spooky! Spooky or not, she had walked all the way here from town, through the woods, and over the old stone bridge, and she didn't want to make the whole trip without at least saying hello.

"H-hello?" she squeaked at the door, standing eight feet back. She waited a moment for a response before making her next move.

Traffic Jam / Big View Count!

I woke up a few minutes ago and, unable to get back to sleep, decided to add one more story to the scheduled pile of posts I've got coming up (details below). I saw a giant spike in views and got super happy to have a bit of attention! Who could it be? Who actually reads this blog?

Of course, the views were all my own from earlier today as I added stories to be published over the coming months and subsequently bumped around reading my older work.

To wit:

• "A Porcine Problem" was antedated to Nov 16.
• "The Open House" is coming Nov 30th. (Art by Abe)
• "Midnight in Seedy Philadelphia" is coming Dec 6th.
• "A Chamber of Secrets" is due on Dec 22nd. (Art by BH)
• "Ben's House" is up to bat on Jan 15th. (Art by DH)
• "Costis' Room" is coming Feb 14th. (Art by DH)
• "Entropy" is the last of today's (well yesterday's) additions and is arriving on Mar 17th.

Also, I went back and added the tag "Fan Fave" to the stories folks seem to enjoy the most (and this post), so click that if you don't feel like wading through my posts of varying quality.

A Porcine Problem

"Honey, promise me you won't get mad."

"I can't make that promise, especially since you just asked me to."

"I just need you to promise."

"In that case, you have to promise not to be mad if I break my promise."

Fowl Mouth

"Blow me."

I near-about snapped my head right off my neck with the velocity of my double-take. Wingo Starr stared daggers at me.

"I... I'm sorry? What?" I sputtered.

"You heard me," replied the diminutive figure. "Blow me."

Suspirium puellarum Celadus thraex

"Orange juice?" Corporal Williams offered the Lieutenant a pouch full of Tang. After the third month, the Lieutenant had stopped correcting him.

"Sure," the Lieutenant said as he relaxed back into his chair. "I just can't figure it out. Everything in this room has a meaning. Something clear, something distinct. But this... this!"

"I understand sir and I wish I could help."

The Assassination Attempt

The bullet crashed into the wall two feet away from her head. Her ears rang from the fraternal triplets of sound - the shot, the breach of the sound barrier, and the impact in the wall - but she did not flinch.


"I knew you didn't have it in you," she derided.

The man - well, more boy than his three decades of unpleasant life might otherwise suggest - broke down, crumbling to the floor in a pile of elbows and ankles and knees and tears. He'd failed. His attempt at freedom, the culmination of countless stealthy nights researching, building, planning, all undone by his inability to kill his captor.

Was it his humanity? Was this inability merely the manifestation of the fear of the unknown? The existential angst over freedom - true freedom? Was he, as a member of the human race, more inclined to accept the tortures he knew - the relentless tortures of the flesh - over the tortures of the unknown? The mind-bending prospect that what he would face without her would be solely of his own doing? What choice would any of us make when confronted with the option of no longer having an entity to praise and to blame, to consult and to obey, to shape our very existence and to give form to our reactions. Could any of us kill our god?

Or was it just him. His psychology. His defect.

The woman said his name. Once softly. Once sternly. His sobbing stopped.

"Clean yourself up and have dinner ready in an hour."

"Yes, mother."

The Steam Lady

Miss Martha woke up to her small dog scratching away at her door, like most mornings.

"Pssshp!" she hissed at the dog. It stopped for a moment before resuming its assault. Sighing, Miss Martha pushed herself out of bed and let the high-strung runt into her room.

The Magic Shop

I... don’t quite remember how I got here. In fact, I’m not entirely sure where “here” is. All I know is that a few minutes ago I was standing in some shop and now I’m in some dungeon. I can feel cold rocks on my side. I think I hear a dragon.

The Climb

It was going to be a long way up, but I knew it'd be worth the trouble. I'd been looking for some new hunting grounds, and the remoteness of this spot seemed ideal. Hopefully I'd catch enough today to last me a few weeks, but I'd settle for just a good dinner.

I set out at dawn.

Hot Coffee

He made me hot.

Oh, God. The heat flowed through my veins. I couldn't help but huff; my breath became ragged and loud as he... Pressed all the right buttons and turned all the right knobs.

I screamed.

I screamed at my climax, and I knew everyone around could hear.

I screamed as I squirted.

I screamed.

The excitement soon ended. The customer had his espresso; the barista turned me off.

Until next time.