Not Gone Yet

A tear runs down my nose and falls from the tip before I can reach up to wipe it away. I blink, looking upward in hopes that it will forestall more tears. The first drops right into the mixture I’m stirring on my stove. No matter. Such a small amount of salt and water shouldn’t … Continue reading Not Gone Yet →

Mr. Ongive Frightened Me

I am Knight-Detective Aberforo Honata. Most of you likely don’t recognize me by name, unless you follow the news very closely. That’s okay. I didn’t accept the offer to right this editorial to talk about myself, but rather, about an experience that I had with a man whose name, I would guess, the majority of … Continue reading Mr. Ongive Frightened Me →

Father, Son, and Sword

This story is related directly to The Park at Night, and indirectly to The Sword and The Birth of a Blade. My wife passed away almost nine years ago, now. I haven’t forgotten her, though I’ve forgotten bits and pieces of her. I can’t picture the exact shade of her eyes anymore, though I can see a vague impression … Continue reading Father, Son, and Sword →

The Coven

“He will be here soon,” Ama said. She tried to remain calm. I remember that. But her voice had that slight quaver she gets when she’s anxious and excited, and her hands shook with a tremble greater than that inspired by her age as she set out the wine and fruit. My mother took my … Continue reading The Coven →

Avoidance

Before him is a wall. It is not a wall of brick and mortar, nor a wall of stone, or plaster, or wood. It is a wall of nothing. It has form because he believes it has form. It has substance because he believes it has substance. If forced to describe it, he would say … Continue reading Avoidance →

The Park at Night

“Dad!” I call. “Come one! You have to see this.” I found something really cool in the park. Dad is mad, one, that I’m up so late at night, and two, that I woke him up at a time when both of us should be sleeping. I don’t care. This is totally worth it. … Continue reading The Park at Night →

This Meal Matters

This meal matters. To an outside observer, with no knowledge of Justin’s life, perhaps it would seem insignificant. Perhaps a more experienced chef would laugh at him, for he is following, to the letter, a recipe he has called up on his phone, though the meal is simple: chicken, with sides of steamed broccoli and … Continue reading This Meal Matters →

Ink: Epilogue

He loves her. He has to: she holds his heart in her hands. What can he do but love a woman who cups his still-beating heart so gratefully, so lovingly? He can see that she cares for it. He can feel that she does. She has stopped crying, leaving only the stains of her tears … Continue reading Ink: Epilogue →

Ink, Part 5

It is not a lie to say that Chester does not interact well with women. There is something about them he feels he doesn’t understand. He never knows when they’re going to be nice or cruel to them. He has no conception of whether what he says to them will be well-received, ignored, or reviled. … Continue reading Ink, Part 5 →

Ink, Part 4

There is a long line at the customer service desk, and Chester hates every other person in it. His sour mood is affecting the way he looks at the world, but he’s embracing it, because something about the way anger makes him feel is addictive. It’s not pleasant, but anger, for Chester, is like the … Continue reading Ink, Part 4 →