Stories

I have short stories floating around all over the place. I’m trying to round them all up and put them here for you.

FOR THE GOOD OF ALL HUMANITY: (Gather Kindling, Issue 1) 
Instructions. This one has to be handled personally, so why don’t you click on over there and buy yourself a copy?
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SPITFIRE: (Colored Chalk, Issue 9) 
Broken glass drives through my right cheek scraping and chipping at my teeth. Swallowing blood, my shoulder is gone, just a wet useless mess. 10,000 feet and losing altitude.
This is how I’ll get to Heaven, one piece at a time. 
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BLUE LINE RUN: (Colored Chalk, Issue 7) 
Los Angeles, 1990
Rio put the suitcase in my hands and told me to run. So I did. It wasn’t much to look at, shiny titanium, all rounded edges and no scuffs. There was a weird-looking lock on the side, half a pair of handcuffs attached to the handle, and on top, some small marks that looked like rust. Or maybe blood.  
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THE MUSE FACTORY: (Colored Chalk, Issue 4)
Mr. Bloom meets me at the entrance with a curt nod and we make our way up the staircase. The door whispers closed behind us, shutting out the haze, the street vendors, even the clatter of horse and carriage. The stairwell is dim, ivory walls and brass banisters that deposit us into a long hallway lined with doors.  
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MATILDA HITS ROCK BOTTOM: (Colored Chalk, Issue 3)
We’re standing hand in hand, Mad Molly and I, watching the wreck of the Matilda slowly bubble its way to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. My first thought, standing shivering and wet on the rocks of Marina del Rey, is that this is not as cool as the movies make it seem.  
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ASHES TO ASHES: (Colored Chalk, Issue 1)
Three hundred days since the Incident. Eighteen hours in a shaky helicopter ride. A day and a half on the road. We’ve been picking our way through the rubble of buildings for the past week now. We’re here to bury the dead, release the ghosts.  
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