Featured Tale
The Last Person on Earth
Saint Peter greets Pope Francis at the Pearly Gates with a warm embrace. “Welcome to heaven,” says Peter. “We weren’t expecting you quite so soon.” A choir of white-robed angels with harps strike up the heavenly anthem reserved for the most holy and distinguished newcomers arriving at their celestial home.…
Latest Tales
Monumental Ambition
Rumors spread across the realm that the King would build a triumphal arch in the city. “The bigliest arch ever built,” boasted the King. “No one has ever seen bigger.” Soon, the royal crews began building on the palace grounds,…
Coffee Rules
I pour some coffee into my mug A pinch of sugar a splash of cream And sit on the couch to rest my feet An aroma sweet a steaming brewI take a sip and another tooAs the cares of life…
Love After Love
He sat on his couch and watched a video of pop sensation Aria Vally singing “Love After Love,” a forgotten song of years long gone. He liked the song back then, but today, it resonated more than ever. Emotions rose…
Arrival
He trumpeted his arrival, and the gathered group answered back in a discordant symphony. He exchanged small talk with members of his section as they took their positions. The conductor arrived and stepped onto the podium. The elephant shuddered. He…
The Shape of Things
I float in the nebulous twilight between awake and asleep when something startles me. My heart pounds in my ears. What was that? An intruder? My dreams? There’s a muffled sound downstairs. Nope, not my dreams. I retrieve my handgun…
The Early Bird
Willie rose early every day because he heard a disturbing rumor about birds. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. One day, as Willie wiggled around, Bonnie Blackbird flew towards him, her mouth open wide. …
Open Another Door
TACO TUESDAY
The timer started. I’m doing a 15-minute writing sprint with Keiren Westwood, a writer I follow on YouTube. Now, I don’t have a story or even an idea at this moment, so I will free-write and see what comes…. The…
Slow Fade
Today, I feel less alive than yesterday,And yesterday, less than the day before.Fading, vanishing, dissolving,Unseen, unheard, unwanted. Someday soon,When I draw my last breathMy heart beats no more,And midnight claims my soul,Who will remember me? And who will know I…
In My Own Way
I’m not Shakespeare, I’m not Poe, I’m not Hemingway. But stories, poems, and twisty tales, I write in my own way.
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