Short Fiction

A creation myth.(Originally appeared 04-17-2004)

If you're going to play at office politics, you had better know just who you're meddling with. Some people have talents the company relies on, and satisfaction in the workplace is priceless.

They're not pets, they're not a different race. You've got to take into consideration their future and what's good for them, or some shaman might have a talk with you.

Take a deep breath -- there's something on the breeze. Must be the Twosday Market in Crosspasses.

Oh, quit trying to convince everyone that you only eat healthy fresh food. Almost everyone has some nasty craving for foods that are less than gourmet. Maybe it's Vienna Sausages. Maybe it's those four-for-a-dollar chicken pot pies. Maybe it's nachos made with jar cheese and barbecue flavored potato chips ... you'll note, as some Filthy Pikers share their thoughts, that not one of them mentioned chocolate, Bane of Waistlines everywhere. Hmm. Probably because not a one of them feels guilty about it.

There was no excusing those disgusting young men and their outrageous stunt. Even Tiaan Bester could see the shame of the incident. Even Oom Paul Kruger from the old days would have agreed -- there was no way to describe the activity in the café after the rugby game as anything but disgraceful ...

Illiteracy is a curable ill. Aser encounters a town in which the malady is preferred to the consequences of the cure.

You know, there are things you can say when it's "just family" and then again, there are things you might say that are "just too much."

Relationships, undergarments and long-dead lechers mark keep Aser company along the road.

Explanation of the difficulties we had from February 24th, 2007 to March 9th.

Sometimes having the right answer doesn't help at all when you weren't supposed to actually respond the question.

They sent him to a shrink to try to make him "normal," but Mad Jack Runner knows it will never work, and has a plan to keep the Agency from picking up his brain waves. Maybe it would have worked, if it wasn't for the incident with the ghost-pirate ...

Born and raised in East Tennessee, Vivian Rinaldo grew up close to nature and related to nearly everyone in the valley. "Later on," Vivian relates, "we moved to Kentucky to a larger city, and I worked very hard to lose the hillbilly accent that was the source of much teasing in school. Since I've become an adult, I understand how precious that background and those memories are, and I now try to recapture the flavor of the mountains in everything I write."

Aser and her Twosday night beer are interrupted by a lizardman. A lizardman with love on his mind ...

A cold and dreary day dawned, with only laundry and the sound of her own footsteps to keep her company. No wonder Sarah was ready to fall in love.

Looking at the calendar I couldn't believe it was already February. Where had the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday I had been out at my mom's tapping her jugular. How time flies!

The neon sign above the door hasn't worked for twenty years, but even so, one night in thirty Ernie's Diner illuminates two lives with love.

Why on earth would you ask a hedge shaman for recipes?Ya think she's Betty Crocker or something?

The prospect of writing stories that could be seen publicly might scare the bejabbers out of you. The only solution? A pen name.

How can I tell if I have a big ass? The first of the Aser stories.

Wait a minute! What happened to California weather in the winter of '06 - '07???

Michael McLaughlin lives on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico, having escaped the United States in 2005 many years away from retirement. Since coming to magical Mexico his writing output has exploded (Wouldn't yours?) and he has been published in the Ojo Del Lago, The Barfing Frog, The Harrow, and New Graffiti. Currently he is with an improvisational comedy troupe called "Spanglish Imposition."

As we grow older, we lose the power of our imagination and aspirations. Mel Trent reviews "Boogiepop Phantom" and finds that it takes that idea and twists it into twelve episodes of angst, love gone sinister, and a man-eating monster.

There was a time when feet were the primary mode of transportation, and everything that people needed was within walking distance of home. Then came cars, and "progress" ...

In the darkness of the theatre, despair mingles with sudden love -- and desire listens intently to murmured temptation ...

There's a lot of "fleecing" going on, but no one is going to get a warm pair of socks out of this incident ...

It was how we knew we were home, and where we went to say goodbye to the ones who would never return, the ones whose eyes only looked to the stars. The rest of the world might forget us, but not this place.

Vampire fiction Staff Writer Lydia Manx brings us some remembered images of the holiday season, and a little bit of crazy cheer.

Conclusion. Johnny is all ready to give his family the beatings he thinks they deserve from his big hands. But one little woman with a piece of green firewood is going to change his way of thinking -- forever.

What was the strange bush in the back yard when I was a child? The leaves were soft, it had no thorns, and in the summer I'd find grape-sized berries as white as snow ...