I am the eyes of my master. He is the important one, not me. He is who matters, though there are times when I wish he would show me how much I mattered to him. But those feelings are dangerous. …

It took a near-death experience in 1898 for the novelist to start writing stories of adventure — “From the hunger of my childhood, cold eyes have looked upon me…So be it. The end is not yet. If I die I shall die hard, fighting to the last, and hell shall receive no fitter inmate than myself.” -Jack London, November 30th, 1898. Pg. …

The old man sits on his front porch, a wedding ring inside his fist. She’d passed. Fifty-five years together. She’d gone in her sleep. “Did you floss?” she said to him the night before. Now he had on a black suit and tie with little white spots that glittered. The…

A Flash Fiction — While coming back to his home, the man had stopped off at a store and picked up a place mat of the solar system. It had all the moons, the asteroid belt, and nine planets, including the now demoted Pluto, his favorite. He liked to imagine himself on the icy…

Surviving a boring church service sometimes means having to do the unthinkable — Way back, when I was innocent, I sat in the church balcony with my grandmother every Sunday and listened to old men tell me I was going to hell. At least I felt that way. They were serious, finger-pointing authorities with heavy robes, and they spoke from a big book…

5 The pressure is undeniable, and yet I know I will be taken for granted. I sit on the sideline. We need seven points, not six, but seven, to win the game. You see, the other extra-point kicker missed his attempt. Poor bastard. I watched as his team celebrated, jumping up…

I I was twenty-five years old, an English teacher, when the love of my life slit her wrists. By the time her husband arrived the white blanket under her body had turned entirely red. She had a black blindfold on and her hands were folded. In between her ring and…

So me and Google, we’re like, walking and stuff, you know, down a sidewalk on a sunny day. And I say, “Hey, Google…why is the sky blue?” And you know what Google says? “It’s because molecules in the air scatter blue light more than red light.” And I’m like, all…

They called me Wrigley, but that was a long time ago. Back then I was white, fully clothed in glittering silver. …