Breakfast at Lucy's Diner is how I start each day. In fact, I've been doing it for the last five years because it's the only one in town,unless you count Big R's at the west end of the highway. But that's really just an overpriced truck stop. The small, colorful, breakfast crowd here is mainly the veterans and miners. The veterans take up the yellowed...
Many people who know me and what I've done say that I am one evil son of a bitch. Personally, I couldn't care less. However, the vehemence of my accusers sometimes gives me pause. They're so sure of themselves. They see themselves as the Heroes of the story and me as the Villain. He or she who must be destroyed for the sake of all that is good and decent in...
I'll never forget the day Emily breezed into town. That first day, with her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, faded blue jeans and fitted black t-shirt. By looking at her, if you didn't know better, you probably would have thought she belonged here. But something about her…we all knew she didn't quite belong. To be fair, no one really took the ti...
*Authors Note: This story is intended to be read as a series of handwritten journal entries. If you are upset by entries that are only a page long, this story probably isn't for you. But if you can deal with shorter entries, please enjoy.* September 17 I have to say that the past few nights have been wonderful. I don't know what it is about this trip,...
The Bath aequora dilectio Gracie looked at the bath; it was an antique, late Victoriana. It was unusual for more than that though; there was a nub in the centre, a nub that recirculated the water. It recirculated it so that it came out as a jet. She remembered that it had been a medical fad to cure women of hysteria, stimulating their sexual organs; from...
My name is Stefan Cherenfant. A big and tall, good-looking young black man of Haitian origin living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Friends call me K.B. for short. I don't mind. We all seem to acquire nicknames at some point in our lives. Not much we can do about it. Anyhow, I was home from school during Christmas Break. This is the tale of how I had...
Chapter 1 I had just turned the ripe age of 18 when it all started. My father always busy because of his job, he was an advocate, his cases mostly with men or women who were antagonist. With my father gone I had no one who I could turn to for guidance. My mother was a painter and she spent most of her time in her studio. She had bought me some aquatic col...
The fat man was out of breath, and in a bad way. It had been years since he walked any considerable distance, and he was in sad shape as he ran for his life. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. Each time he inhaled his lungs seemed to scream with a bruised agony. He could feel his heart throbbing hard in his chest. Each heartbeat brought with it a fast,...
This story is written for A Horse With No Game! :) ***** ____Mrs. Felicia Donner lay upon a steamer chair, beside a small table littered with empty margarita glasses, and cursed the sun. The ultraviolet penetrated her eyelids, burned its way down her optic nerves, and set the ethyl alcohol in her capillaries to a boil. She felt like her head would split i...
Having driven for a few hours, he felt the need to stop and stretch his legs. As he thought about this, a sign noting a rest stop came into view. Two miles later, her turned into the rest stop and parked his car. He walked up to the small building housing the toilets and vending machines. After taking care of his needs, he stepped into the sunshine outside...