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The Friday Muse – The Unending Staircase
Made of concrete, the small thirty by thirty structure sat alone in a vacant parking lot. A single black door against all-white cement was the only indication that people were meant to enter and exit the structure. The lot itself belonged to a grocery store that had been torn down long ago. Nothing else resided for miles along Highway 17, even though the highway was a main artery connecting Fenneston to Fairbanks. Pam spotted the uncanny landmark while passing through on Highway 17 on her way to Fairbanks. In fact, she passed it many times on her multiple trips to Fairbanks. She always found herself curious as to why the…
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The Friday Muse – Shutterbug
Stacy set the Polaroid camera on the oak desk. Releasing her grip on it gave her a strange sense of freedom, as if fate itself was trying to fuse her to the camera and she was cutting the connection each time she broke away from the handheld item. The camera seemed to hum, faintly rattling the surface of the desk, but Stacy knew it was her imagination. Cameras didn’t hum. Then again, cameras didn’t do what this camera did. The intercom installed near her front door chimed, startling her. Stacy rushed to it and hit the faded blue button to let her friend, Renee, into the building. Unaware that it…
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The Friday Muse: Darkness Pierced (Part 3)
Darkness Pierced (Part 1) Darkness Pierced (Part 2) When Melissa Robinson left the candlelit safety of the guest room in Turnkey’s farmhouse, she entered a darkness so thick and so consuming that she swore she had died and entered hell. Her eyes wouldn’t adjust to it, the shadows grazed her skin like strands of silk, and the smell of rotting meat made her want to retch. Maybe I should have listened to the cat. Really? she scolded herself. The cat? The talking cat? Melissa took a deep breath, and the air weighed in her lungs. “Hello?” she called out. “Lightbearer,” a slithery voice hissed. “Me?” she said, spinning around. The…
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The Friday Muse – Darkness Pierced (Part 2)
Darkness Pierced (Part 1) Melissa Robinson nearly died of hypothermia that last day of winter. After falling through the icy surface of Turnkey’s Pond, the cold shock of the water beneath almost immediately paralyzed her, preventing her from making it from the center of the lake back to land. Everyone from the winter celebration had left and this left Melissa alone, skating on the lake, oblivious to the fact that 6pm had come around. Nobody ever stayed on Turnkey’s property much past 6pm during the winter. Everyone knew better. But Melissa had neglected to pay attention and nearly died for her mistake. When she opened her eyes, she found herself…
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The Friday Muse – Darkness Pierced
There was nothing quite like skating the frozen pond near Turnkey’s farm. Once winter hit, and the pond—which acted as a habitat for various creatures during the spring—froze over, it became the ideal spot for kids and adults alike to come and skate, build snowmen, or just enjoy the falling snow. Melissa Robinson loved to ice skate on Turnkey’s Pond. Loved it since she was five. Loved it now, in her late twenties. The cold wind on her face, the slippery ice under her feet, she was able to get lost in the act of twirling and spinning and sliding across the surface of the pond. There was something mystical…
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The Friday Muse – Home On The Horizon
San Francisco was never her favorite place. She might have called it home, but it wasn’t in her heart to name the City a place close to her heart. The weather was too cold, the prices were too high, and there was something in the air – something amiss – that always gnawed at her consciousness. She wasn’t sure if it was an omen or some kind of psychic ability she unknowingly possessed, but she always felt San Francisco was burdened by evil. Sure, crimes were constantly committed in the city. But that was no different than any other city. Cram 8 million people into such a small area of…
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The Friday Muse – My Fiction Year In Review
This last year I floundered a bit at different times with my commitment to write new fiction every Friday, but I picked up the mantle once again towards the end and started writing out full short fiction pieces both to get into the practice of writing every week and to get in the habit of being less shy with what I write. In case you missed any of my fiction pieces, here’s a comprehensive list of the most recent batch with links to each. New stories will pick up again next Friday. Have a great weekend! The Stars Are Brightly Shining Snowfall In EuropeThe Mad Sea End Transmission The Man…
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The Friday Muse – The Man With No Face
He lives among us. He eats with us. He sleeps with us. He breathes the same air as we all do. Only he’s not us. Sometimes he’s not a he. He is a she – the mother of the crying 6-year-old at the grocery story. He’s the security guard at your local mall, rounding up the rowdy teenagers who tossed their gum over the side of the escalator. He’s the burglar in your home late at night, sliding through the shadows, invading what you thought was sacred space. He is not limited by our rules. He is not plagued by our anxieties. He is not confined by our space or…
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The Friday Muse – Her Lantern’s Light
Auburn-colored leaves whirled through the brisk October air, landing across the cobblestone streets and wooden porches of New Haven.The scent of burning wood puffed out of the town’s many chimneys, and a waft of pumpkin scents flitted out of Marple’s candle shop, filling the town’s main street with a sweet and all-too-familiar aroma. Lantern in hand,the townspeople of New Haven stood along the main street, huddled together for warmth (and out of fear), shoulders touching, a low murmur bubbling through the crowd. It was Lantern’s Light, and everyone from New Haven was there. Ms. Maple from the general store. Reginald Gourd from the smithery. Angus, the potter who move to…
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The Friday Muse – Doppelgänger
The crows feet. The crows feet at the corners of my eyes, the ones I’ve been trying to get rid of with that expensive beauty cream I saw on television late one night. She has those crows feet. That crease in my forehead, she has that too. Not very attractive, but there’s not much I can do about that. She even has my mouth, with the way she grins that jaded smile, developed over a lifetime of pain and betrayal. Even her clothes are the same. Her height. Her weight (I would imagine). Each of her curves is identical to mine. Each bulge of flesh, and scar from years of…
