Monday, August 26, 2013

"The King of Michigan" - Flash Fiction Challenge

The King of Michigan

My family still lived in the Lakelands, what used to be northern Minnesota and Canada, maybe with a little Wisconsin. Nothing near there was hit in the collapse, and the citizens were pretty independent. I hadn’t been back in half a dozen years. When my cousin Connor arrived and told me my uncle was dead, I didn’t think much of it. Then he told me the funeral was in the Lakelands, and the family wanted me to come.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

BloodLetting Go: Part I


This is the first story I ever wrote, it is in seven parts, written during some crazy days back at IU.

It isn't very well written, but I still like the story

Apologies to Tears for Fears for ripping off the title. It just fit too well.


All I could think about was the SEARING pain surging from my shoulder and through my body as I fly face down onto the pavement. I couldn’t feel the pool of hot blood suffusing on the cold street.  I couldn’t think about why my partner would sell me out. I couldn’t feel the cut on my head from when I hit the ground. I couldn’t worry about them killing Alexandra. BOOM Then a second bullet hit my back like a sledgehammer and everything went black. No sound, just a voice in my head. Time to die, Adam. Don’t want to keep the Devil waiting.

Monday, August 19, 2013

The Death Statue

The Death Statue

Let’s get this straight right off the bat: I am not in Special Ops or Clandestine Ops or Black Ops… not really in ops at all. I’m a detective. I don’t have awesome ass-kicking skills and I've never shot anyone. I am good at figuring things out. It’s usually a simple job. Someone suspects this guy or that girl is involved in some kind of scam or anti-whatever group which might one day put a bomb in a school or mosque or meat factory. There are all sorts of crazies these days. So I go and stakeout the guy, follow him, find out who his friends are. Then I write a report. That is how I spend about half my time. Writing reports. What I do isn’t usually dangerous, but I do have a gun. Yes, it’s a Walther PPK. Yes, I carry it because that’s what Bond carried. No, I don’t think I’m James Bond. I couldn’t buy an Aston Martin with 5 years salary, and as for sex with hot ladies on the job? In my fucking dreams. Literally.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Book Review: Ex-Communication by Peter Clines

I don't know how many of you have ever read Peter Clines, but this latest addition to his "Ex-Heroes" series just proves that he is one of the most imaginative writers currently pumping out literature.


Anybody else feel like this sometimes?