New Release! Take a Bite: 25 Tasty and Twisted Flash Fiction Stories

Ghost…witches…murderers…werewolves…superstitions…revenge…the unexplained…monsters of all kinds…

25 flash fictions stories, dark, creepy, unsettling, and at 1,000 words a piece, the perfect bite-sized morsel to satisfy a horror craving.

Take a Bite: 25 Tasty and Twisted Flash Fiction Stories is out now! You can find this eBook at Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, Apple, and Kobo. And at the going price of $1.99, it’s a steal!

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Make It Fat, You Cowards

Some time back, Twitter user @emilybadly posted the question: “Question for my fellow fat babes: what’s a trait or personality type you wish fat characters were allowed to be more often/at all?”

It’s all linked, so check out that thread and the responses. Feel free to fall down that rabbit hole.

But if you haven’t got the time, allow me to sum it up for you.

We wish fat characters were allowed to be…people.

Fucking wild, right?

It turns out that fat people like myself are looking for the kind of representation that seems only available to thin people. We want to see fat people experience a wide-range of emotions. Let them be allowed to be happy, sad, angry, lazy, indignant, annoyed, ecstatic, depressed, etc. independent of their weight. Not happy in spite of being fat; they’re just happy. Not angry because they’re fat; they’re just angry.

Let them be desired without other people getting grossed out and being all judgy. Let them have sex, good sex. Let them be the object of someone’s crush. Let them hook up with the hot lead. Hell, let them have a long, healthy relationship with the hot lead. Particularly in the case of fat women when it comes to opposite sex relationships. It seems like when it comes to fat men (and their bodies are still played for jokes most of the time), they’re allowed to hook up with thin, beautiful women, but the vice-versa doesn’t play out with the same frequency.

Let there be more than one fat character and not just because you’ve got two of them in a relationship. Fat people are everywhere. You can have more than one, doing different things, having different personalities, relating to different people.

And there’s more than one kind of fat. We come in all shapes and sizes. Big bellies, big boobs, small boobs, no boobs, belly rolls, back fat, flabby arms, stick arms, no butts, big butts, big thighs, skinny legs, thin faces, double chins. Mix and match! And don’t cover those bodies! Let them wear shorts and mini dresses and tank tops and bikinis if they want to. Let them want to.

Let them be brave and adventurous and athletic. Let them be villainous and selfish and greedy. Let them be vain and pedantic and sloppy. Let them be stylish and smart and successful. Let them be actual human beings with a wide range of personalities and moods and issues. Let them be anything. Let them exist without the sole motivation of losing weight or being the butt of fat jokes or eating constantly or getting winded walking anywhere. Let them just be regular people or extraordinary people or anything in between.

I’ll formally throw down the challenge. Make it fat, you cowards.

I am more than happy to offer up my services in this endeavor. If you need a skilled, experienced fat person to assist you, I can be that person. I can be your adviser. I can help you make your fat characters representative of actual fat people.

My rates are very reasonable.

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 4

Official Gossip

The Munsterville Courier was a marvel of a modern newspaper. No matter how late a story broke, they always seemed to have it first thing in the morning, usually on the front page. And not just online. In the physical copy, too.

Simon Sidney’s murder was no different.

Otis sat at his kitchen table, eating a peanut butter sandwich, drinking a glass of chocolate milk, and reading about what he’d already experienced, which was splashed in glorious fashion all over the front page. He was somewhat relieved that his and Velvet’s names were kept out of the press and a little more than tickled that Manfred Kobel’s was splattered all over it. Just out of spite, he hoped some rumors about the man started.

And judging by the way the article was written, they would.

The article highlighted that the body was found at The Kobel Warehouse Off Rockrine Road, a warehouse that Mr. Kobel was thinking of selling, possibly to the victim, something that Otis didn’t know. He reckoned that none of the other security guards knew it either. And none of them probably would have known until the day the warehouse was sold and they were all fired. Otis realized it was very likely that Simon Sidney’s death saved all of their jobs, at least until Kobel could find another buyer. Not that it mattered much to Otis. He was retiring.

The paper also went into great detail about the business deals and steals of the two men. There was also something else about Simon Sidney’s estranged wife and his connection to a dead woman found at The End Of and the late Winchester Harmon, but that didn’t interest him. He preferred the parts that drug Manfred Kobel through the mud.

It served the man right. Otis didn’t believe in Karma, but in this case, he was willing to make an exception. If Kobel was going to insult Otis’s work, then he could be insulted, too. Being seen as a shady businessman and a murder suspect in the court of public opinion was much better than any name Otis could think to call the man.

Otis finished the paper and his peanut butter sandwich, only pausing here and there to read a few shorter blurbs of other stories that caught his eye. When he got up to get another peanut butter sandwich, he got his checkbook, too.

As he ate, Otis looked over his finances. Growing up poor had taught him two things: be frugal and be meticulous with money. Otis only bought things when he was sure he could afford them, which was why he drove a car nearly twenty years old; he wasn’t sure that he could afford any of those pricey new ones. He bought a house, the one he still lived in, but it was an investment when he bought it all those years ago and he’d been good about taking care of it, even if it wasn’t as up-to-date and fancy as some of the others in the neighborhood. Take the kitchen for example. The stove was over twenty years old and one of the knobs was gone and sometimes it shocked you if you were touching the sink at the same time, but it still worked just as well as when he’d bought it from a rummage sale about fifteen years ago. The table came from his grandmother’s basement and despite a couple of nicks was still in good shape. The wood paneling and the floor were new-ish; he’d redone them both about five years ago. The place might be well-worn and lived-in, but it was a good house.

He’d tried to pass on some of his wisdom to Velvet, though she seemed to have a pretty good head on her shoulders when it came to money. She didn’t wait to get married to buy a house and she was in no hurry to buy a new car even though the one she drove was paid for. He couldn’t convince her to spend less on clothes or make-up, though.

Otis had one hundred thousand dollars in his checking account. He also had savings accounts pushing two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, thanks to steady deposits and interest. Otis frowned. He wasn’t sure that’d be enough. He probably should have started investing in CDs or bonds or something, but Otis didn’t really trust that sort of thing. He wasn’t even sure about the savings account, but the bank had proven solid over the decades he’d used them. He still kept about ten thousand dollars in cash in the house, though. Just for emergencies. Thinking critically about his money situation, Otis decided that he could afford to retire if he really had to, though he might have to splurge on fewer name brands during grocery shopping trips just to be safe.

When he stood up to return his checkbook to its proper place and to get another glass of chocolate milk, the jingling in his pocket caught his attention. It wasn’t an unusual sound by any means, but it reminded Otis of what was actually in there.

Digging into his pocket, Otis found the coin and pulled it out. He sat down at the table again, checkbook and milk forgotten as he examined the coin, turning it over and over in his hands. It wasn’t any American or Canadian currency he knew. Didn’t look like the English money he’d seen either. There was a bird on one side, sort of like an eagle, and there was star and crescent on the other side. It was strange. And it didn’t look like it’d ever been used, like most currency, nor did it have that look of being a forgotten lucky charm. This had been cared for, the silver gleamed in the morning sunlight spilling into the kitchen. This was important.

###

But why is it important? The only way to find out is to keep reading. And to keep reading, check out Murderville or Patreon.

April Writing Projects

I honestly thought about doing a Twitter poll to decide what to work on this month because I’m feeling a bit adrift at the moment. Not sure what project to focus on, not sure what I want to do, not sure of much of anything.

Last month, I finished a round of revisions on The Coop Run (which may need another round; I’m sending it off to a beta reader to see if I’m getting anywhere with it). Great. I looked at my project list the other day to see what I should be working on this month.

I could start revising Murderville Season 4, but I’d rather wait until May. I like working on Murderville during summer because when I’m not struggling with health/stress issues, I get into a nice rhythm that keeps me busy and happy. I could start revising End of the (Werewolf) Curse because that is one of my projects this year, but I should really fix the beginning of (Vampires) Made in America now that I’ve had my epiphany about it, and start shopping it to agents again. I could revise a couple of scripts, but those projects are sort of pointless because I wouldn’t be able to do anything with them once I got them done.

Who knew this would be such a loaded question?

Well, I did, to be honest.

I wrote last month about how my productivity had been garbage and how I had no interest in much of anything. Shortly after that public whining, I found a burst of mojo that led me to recording a few Book ’em, Danno segments and doing some art and making some significant progress on my revising. The mojo was short-lived, but useful. The next week I felt like I’d been steamrolled and was back to struggling.

Sitting at the end of that week, with the latest round of The Coop Run revisions finished, I asked myself what I should do in April. And when I got that garbled-ass answer above which prioritized the projects that would make me money, I stopped, closed my eyes, and asked myself again.

What do you really want to work on in April?

I want to research and outline one of the ideas I have for a TV book that I’ll probably never write and I want to work on one of the poetry chapbooks I’ve been thinking about doing since it’s National Poetry Month.

Fine. Great. Let’s do that.

I need a break. A break from the pressure to produce. A break from attaching a dollar-value to everything I work on. Yes, I like to get paid for my work, but right now I need to work on something that might turn out to be nothing, something that might not mean anything to anyone but me.

I’ve got a few ideas for how to make the ends meet for May.

But someone has already met their end in Murderville. In fact, we’re at the half-way point of Rounds of Luck as episode 4 goes live on April 9th. Lucky for you, it’s easy to catch up. Become a patron for as little as $1 an episode. $2 patrons receive a bonus every other month, like this month on the 23rd. Don’t wait! Get in on the killer fun!

Where Has All My Mojo Gone?

I started off this year busting some serious tail. I got things done, man. I read four books in January alone. I was finishing projects and feeding off that accomplishment. I was even getting into the groove of starting Book ’em, Danno.

And then my mojo failed me.

Sometime around the end of February, it all started to dry up. This month has been hard. The productive days have dwindled from above average to bare minimum. I’m getting just what I need to get done to keep the train rolling, writing-wise. Podcast-wise, that train has come to a halt. I’m struggling to even write a blog post once a week. I don’t have the energy or the motivation or the interest for it. I’m tired more often than not.

Now, obviously, I’m looking for a solution. But to find a solution I first have to identify the cause. I’ve been having some trouble with that.

Is this a byproduct of some recent insomnia? Is it my depression acting up? Has my anemia returned (I was given the all-clear to stop my iron pills and have been off of them for about six weeks)? Is it PMS? Menopause (hopefully)? Something new? I don’t know. I haven’t been able to nail the root cause of my malaise down. Believe me. It’s frustrating.

More frustrating is that I now have to use the cooked spaghetti method of finding something to help me get my groove back. Just throw a bunch of possible solutions at the wall and see what sticks.

I’m getting back into my meditation, which I had slacked off on, so that should help with my sleep issues. I’m going back on my iron pills, just in case. I’m digging into my depression-managing toolbox to see if there’s any tricks in there I can try.

I’m also trying to conjure up some productivity by working on one of my half-assed resolutions. In trying to figure out something to do with the art I did last year, I’m starting a new art project. I’m hoping that getting those creative juices flowing will open up the dam for the rest of my creativity.

Pray for rain and get a flood of mojo working again.

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 3

Loss/Gain

The police wrapped up their investigation a little after two in the morning. Otis sent Velvet down to meet Detective Carpenter at the backdoor when he knocked, which was fine with Velvet. Otis had been suspiciously quiet the whole time they’d been in the security room. Not that Otis was a real talker or anything, but he usually had at least something to say about everything and Velvet was sure Otis would have a lot to say about this. But he didn’t. He was quiet, and this quiet was deeper than his usual quiet, which irked Velvet.

“We’re finished for this evening,” Detective Carpenter said as Velvet tried not to look like she was looking for Detective Carthos. She decided that she liked his kind, awkwardness. It was comforting. “The crime scene tape is staying up for now. Forensics will be back in the morning to have a look around by daylight and I’ll probably be back sometime tomorrow, too, for my own look around. You and Guard Gorski can go back to your rounds as usual, but please avoid that side of the building for now. Let the next shift know what’s going on.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Oh, and if one of you could drop the security footage off at the police station when you get off work in the morning, that will be helpful. The sooner we look at it, the better.”

“Again, no problem.”

Velvet smiled and nodded like she was talking to a teacher she was trying to please, an odd feeling since she hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe Detective Carpenter just had that affect on people. She bet he got a lot of confessions. Bad guys were lulled by his good looks and nailed by his aura.

They said their goodbyes, Detective Carpenter reminding her to call if she or Otis remembered anything, and then he left, getting into the last unmarked car in the parking lot. As he pulled away, Velvet could make out the shadow of Detective Carthos riding next to him in the passenger seat.

Velvet closed and locked the backdoor and walked the maze back to the security room.

Otis sat in his chair like a grumpy lump, the deep, unhappy silence still heavy in the room. Velvet sighed and sat down next to him, her chair squeaking and popping.

“Detective Carpenter wants one of us to run the security footage over to the police station in the morning,” she said.

“You can do that,” Otis said, his gravelly voice agitated.

Velvet bristled at being volunteered.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I found the body.”

“Man, that isn’t how this works.”

“How would you know how it works?”

“I know it doesn’t work like this.”

“I’ll put it together, you run it over,” Otis said, sitting up in his chair. He quickly pulled up the program on the systems computer that allowed him to copy the footage and started to go through it.

“Fine,” Velvet said, watching him work.

They probably could have had this done and waiting for the detectives by the time they left, but Otis didn’t seem to be in any hurry at the time to get it done and Velvet was in no mood to prod him.

Then.

Now, prodding Otis would be an excellent way to get things back to normal. And she was eager to get things back to normal and shake the creepy feelings that had been plaguing her all night, anything to erase the image of that dead man’s legs sticking out from between the dumpsters that she was sure to be seeing for a while. She wasn’t looking forward to going to sleep and seeing what her dreams had in store for her after a night like this.

“What’s with you?” Velvet asked, watching the monitors. Otis didn’t get as cranky with her for conversing if he thought she was keeping an eye on things.

“What do you mean what’s with me?” he asked, focusing on his own work.

“Why are you so cranky?”

“I’m always cranky.”

Velvet snorted.

“Yeah, but you’re cranky even for you. You’re not that fun cranky that I’ve come to know and love. You’re a sullen cranky that makes me want to push you over.”

Otis stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Push me over?”

“That’s what I said.”

He shook his head and went back to his work.

“So?” Velvet prompted after a minute.

“So what?”

“So, what’s eating you?”

Otis didn’t answer.

“You’re underestimating me, Otis,” Velvet said with a little smile. “I will bug you until the rest of your hair falls out. When I want some information, I will stop at nothing to get it. You know this. You know how I can be.”

Otis stayed silent.

“I mean it, Otis. I will make our shifts a living hell for you with non-stop chatter if you don’t spill your beans. I will-”

“I’m retiring.”

The two words hit Velvet with the same force as a cinderblock chucked at her gut. It took her a couple of seconds to get her air back.

“You are not,” she said in disbelief.

“Yes, I am.”

###

Things are getting a little tense at the Kobel Warehouse on Rockrine Road. Want to read more? Check out Murderville or Patreon.

March Writing Projects

As you may have seen, my flash fiction collection, Take a Bite, did indeed get finished and published last month. And once it did, I started work on Book ’em, Danno. I actually recorded and edited the first episode and it’s not horrible. It’s something I’m going to continue to work on, so stay tuned for updates.

This month I’m going to revise The Coop Run. I wanted to work on something geared toward publication, be it traditional or self-publishing. I really need to do more work designed to generate income, which sounds crass, but hey, you like to get paid for the work you do. Well, same. Finishing The Coop Run would be an excellent gain on my 2019 project goals.

Speaking of projects.

I have GOT to re-organize my writing project To Do List of Doom. In the words of my grandmother, it is a fright. Directions have changed, projects have been abandoned, others have been started without notice. The current coagulation of projects is no longer helpful and I need to find another way to keep everything straight. So, that’s going to be something I work on this month.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that it got so out of hand. After all, it is an extension of my brain and that place ain’t so neat either.

However, Murderville: Rounds of Luck is very neat and the next episode goes live on March 12th. Become a patron for $1 or $2 an episode and you can be neat, too.