Short Fiction, Poetry and Classic Book Reviews
Vernon Punch’s ice cream van sat on abandoned lot. He never drove it; he didn’t need to. People came to buy his ice cream, and he had no competitors on his side of town. This is why: for five years now the owner of the only other ice cream van in town, Terry Whistler, had... Continue Reading →
It was 1985; it was 1999. Few people realised how true that was. The year was 1985, the place was 1999. 1999 was a town that had for one hundred and seven years enjoyed its original name. Two years ago a man sharing that name went on a killing spree across four states. His crimes... Continue Reading →
Mary Shelley apparently premised this monster novel on a dream she had about a scientist. I’ve got to hand it to her; dream-based fiction is a tough genre to write. I tried it once, and the result was a critically panned three hundred pages about me having a conversation at a theme park with a... Continue Reading →
“All right kids, are we all here? One, two, three, four—good. Best behavior when we go inside please. Okay, here we go. All in a line please. Michael, over here with us. Quickly. Watch your step, Tia—there we go. Good job. Dylan, turn around please. Yes, that’s very clever, but we need to go up the... Continue Reading →
The gripping saga of a chicken.
Echoing through the empty, Sunday morning main street of a country town, an elderly Honda hatchback engine screamed in speeding pain. In the driver’s seat of the car sat a young man wearing an ill-fitting suit and a worried look, wrenching the gearstick and mashing the clutch in a rushed and clumsy manner that corroborated... Continue Reading →
The gripping saga of a chicken.
Two nights ago I was sitting on the couch with my son watching a popular television sitcom. About halfway through the episode, just as one of the main characters delivered yet another sarcastic one-liner, which was followed by the studio audience’s obligatory laughter, my son looked up at me with a curious, disappointed look that... Continue Reading →
On a still and chilly afternoon, Through the shady columns of a secret grove, Pressing footprints in softest grass, A man walked quietly and alone. He passed beneath a towering willow, That had stood there for a hundred years, The leaves upon its mighty beams, Hung like emerald chandeliers. And there beside the... Continue Reading →
