Short Fiction III

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

-Ray Bradbury

Inferno Inc.

Yes, he recognized this place. It had come to him centuries ago in his sleep. The most important sleep of his life. The gates of Hell yawned open in a silent scream…” 

From Darkness to Promote Me

I leave it to my trusty readers to be judges, juries, and (dare I say it?) executioners of time’s sordid legacy. But enough from me-—it is time for the living to hold their tongues, and for the dead to speak...” 

The Actaeon Solution

In bold, simple type, the envelope proclaimed cheerily: CONGRATULATIONS CITIZEN! YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO TAKE PART IN THE ACTAEON SOLUTION…

The Last Gunslingers

The first time John McCoy died was on a dust-speckled street by the saloon in Agua Templada. Luckily, it didn’t stick...”

Santiago Caballero sat with his elbows resting on his thighs, staring at the cold floor locker-room floor. Nothing existed but the pair of boxing shoes that stretched out before him, impossibly big, the boots of a clown done up with black laces and corporate logos. It took him a while to register that they were his feet, that he was there, and that all of this was real….

New Babylon

It was Tuesday on a sluggish June afternoon in 1956, and Samuel Cohn sat and smoked a cigarette, waiting for a dead man….”