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I am an amateur aspiring to bigger and better dreams.


Nana raised the newborns until they were five, dutifully executing the commands programmed within her that SimulBio guaranteed would produce ideal children. On Disconnect Day, they wailed for her from their biological parents’ arms, but Nana disguised her anguish with steely indifference. Emotional anomalies indicated a system malfunction. She wouldn’t be recycled like the others.…


His Garden

His garden hid deep within the park grounds, shying away from intruders behind an iron wrought gate. The gate didn’t keep the public out—they never visited the park anyway—but rather turned away munching deer who gazed enviously over the black spiked fence at the temptations inside. One scratch from the sharp point had been enough…

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Another Year

My entry to the NYC Midnight 100-word microfiction challenge, round 1. The restrictions were it had to be a drama story containing the action of cutting a ribbon with the word “problem”. He bought the Barbie in the crumbled box splattered with price tags. He clawed at the stickers, leaving a gooey residue smeared across…

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The Deal

The water beaded from stalactites and hammered the stone floor like the ticking of a clock. Elona timed her muted steps to the sounds as she traversed the cave. Shadows danced in the light of the candle gripped between her trembling hands. They twirled on the cave walls and flittered behind stalagmites when she turned…

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The Hunger

Daisy’s stomach woke her like a flea biting where she couldn’t scratch. As she stretched, imagining herself as a great tiger readying to hunt, she glanced first to the window where the morning light warmed the sill for a post-breakfast snooze and then to the bed where her human slept. Panic flooded her as she realized her…

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The Machine

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. Her voice was calm and soothing, like all the other machines of her prototype.“The Network decreed cyborgs are fine, you’re still part of our web, after all.”

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Alive from Radio City

The fly fell to the white linoleum floor, landing on its wings. Its legs twitched one last time before curling inward to the insect’s hairy black body. A skinny brown tabby cautiously approached from its hiding place beneath the desk where it had fled as the flyswatter smacked the glass. It batted the small body, flicking it across the floor to where a small but growing pile of swatted flies rested beside a dirty little box. Satisfied, it returned to stare out the large windows that encompassed a quarter of the office walls.

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Papa Said – 3

Anna learned monsters were real one night as she crouched in bed, her ear pressed against the wall that separated their bedroom from the living room. This was before Papa had left with the marching men, back when Mama came home from selling in the market while the sun was still high. Annabelle had never seen her mother look like that day when Mama came home. She kissed Papa as they welcomed her home and Annabelle heard her whisper to him, 'We need to talk.' As soon as supper ended, the two sisters were ordered to bed.

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A Letter from the Dead

Transcribed below are the contents found within a letter inside an unmarked envelope. I found it atop the nightstand at my bedside, leaning against the broken motel clock radio. The letter itself was written on plain computer paper in a messy half-cursive, half-print handwriting.

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Papa Said – 2

She dug in the shade of an elm tree where the dirt was still soft and moist and tried to keep her eyes off Starry. The queer thing was, nothing else touched the body. Flies avoided it, the ants and beetles marched around it, and the smell hadn't drawn any scalehound. The monster had touched it. You should never eat something a monster touches. Papa had never said this but she felt sure he would if he were with her. Perhaps that’s how you become a monster in the first place, she mused.

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