Expiration Date (a Short Story – Part 5, the Finale)

Here’s Part 5 of a soft science fiction short story about a society where everyone knows exactly when they’re going to die, and the man who threw chaos into the system. In the previous installment, the government agent Kadar shows his true colors and attacks the narrator. This very short fifth and final part is only about 230 words. Let me know what you think!

Continue reading

Expiration Date (a Short Story – Part 4)

Here’s Part 4 of a soft science fiction short story about a society where everyone knows exactly when they’re going to die, and the man who threw chaos into the system. In the previous installment, the narrator tells us about the emotional and mental toll of being the modern era’s first survivor. This fourth part is about 530 words and has an estimated reading time of 2 minutes. Let me know what you think!

Continue reading

Expiration Date (a Short Story – Part 2)

Here’s Part 2 of a soft science fiction short story about a society where everyone knows exactly when they’re going to die, and the man who threw chaos into the system. In the previous installment, the narrator discovers even the powers of modern science fail sometimes. This second part is about 550 words and has an estimated reading time of 2 minutes. Let me know what you think!

Continue reading

Expiration Date (a Short Story – Part 1)

Here’s Part 1 of a soft science fiction short story about a society where everyone knows exactly when they’re going to die, and the man who threw chaos into the system. This first part is about 590 words and has an estimated reading time of 2.5 minutes. Let me know what you think!

Continue reading

New World (Part 7) – A Poetry Journal

3-1-22 – 10:22 a.m.

I can’t get Russia and Ukraine off my mind. Nightmares of nuclear missiles in the sky. Images of urban warfare. All these journalists saying things will never be the same, the world has forever changed. Perhaps this is so. Impacts are indirect. It’s more the ambient threat and fear. It’s a psychic kind of pain, like a telepathic connection to world suffering.

Continue reading

Bruised Purple Sky (a poem)

Bruised purple sky
Dying in the snow
Blood-dyed ice
I thought you would know
The limits we’d go for you
The comforts we’d forgo
Frost-bitten hands
Fall apart bitterly and slow
Night falls, somberly
The rest of us look up
Forever wandering
We knew this day would come
Something we were pondering
When fires came down furiously
And ghost-walkers were conjuring
Spirits of wartimes
A not-too-distant squandering
Of humanity’s potential
Back to the evils of conquering

Cold Cemetery Nights (microfiction)

Out here in the cold cemetery nights, the greenish-blue tint of my death fantasies come alive. I’m not much a fan of the waking hours; the dead are more on my level, the way they hold nothing back when they speak to me and tell me of their underground dreams and experiences. I think it was my father who said, when I was just a young boy, that, “The dead hold secrets the living can learn from, if only we listen to the whispers of the night.”

Cold cemetery nights, not such a fright to me. Others have rebuked me for my twilight walks, stalking among the graves, but I ignore them. The gravedigger works overtime every night; I’m not sure if he’s dead or alive. I see him digging these deep holes most nights, allowing the souls to re-enter the world. The gravedigger’s name is Cain – he has the brightest blue eyes, a slim yet muscular frame, and hands so calloused they bleed every night.

Continue reading

Broken Angels (a poem)

Each new year is a gateway
Transformation takes place
Among broken angels lying face down
In gutters and cracked sidewalks

Misty rain falls in city mornings
The angels sing, sigh sweetly
Not entering this gateway neatly
I am overcome, completely
With an urge for annihilation

Continue reading