Gone Lumberjacking

My flash fiction with the un-flash name has been published by Everyday Genius . cover by Robert Howell Notes/acknowledgements: Fictional apartment building located near non-fictional city dwelling of Charlie Walter and Christine Farren. Interior decor of Bethany's flat inspired by The Selby is in your place . Dorian's perspective on cats lifted wholesale from Matthew Barbato. (Thanks, Matthew. I know I should have asked first.) No one writes in a vacuum.... Between Green and Union On a Day That is Sunny All Day

The sale is over. But a good story never dies. Especially on the internet. To those who purchased the 3:2 issue of Echo Ink Review , you should know that I have always appreciated your rapier wit, your singular sense of integrity, your strong chin. Always. For those who didn't purchased the aforementioned literary magazine but are curious enough to spend  two minutes to get to the bottom of this "Bric-a-brac" thing, here's your chance. The editor of Echo Ink Review called it "Scandalous." What will you call it? cover art by Robert Howell Bric-a-Brac by Dan Lundin  She may be confused as one, but Audrey is not a kleptomaniac. While her urges are irresistible, the items she steals are never trivial and the theft is always obsessively well-planned out. She is not a thief either, not exactly. A better label would be theft addict, a criminal who steals not for profit but for social gain, one who rationalizes her illicit hobby with feeling...

This is a tease.  This is only a tease.  The comic will be here soon, promise. And well worth the wait. Character Design: Tom Vadakan Script: yours truly

Old short stories can offer a glimpse of past perspective, but they aren’t exactly diary entries. They’re more akin to tattoos, the best ones bookmarking the past with hints and suggestions. (No dog-eared pages here.) “Tell Me” was published in Robert Howell’s Nails some years ago. The second half of it is below. The first part you don’t get. Not on this site, anyway. The first part is like those certain below the belt tattoos; in order to set your eyes on it, you’ll need to get me drunk.     "Tell Me" Part 2 In the alley now. Going down St. Peter. Keeping her company, the sound of her boots,  clack-clap, clack-clap, clack-clap , a passing police siren echoing through the street, clack-clap, clack-clap, clack-clap , a rooftop gutter releasing its bowels, clack-clap, clack-clap, clack-clap, duel pissings from a man too drunk to see, one of urine, another streaming from a phobic subconscious set loose from its tethers by so much narcotic, clack-clap, clack-clap,...