Flash Fiction – Whispered Words

The words were whispered. There was no denying their truth. That didn’t stop people from trying. Some didn’t think their fellow man was capable of doing such evil. Others, motivated by fear and self interest, sought to silence their victims. They failed. They couldn’t rob them of their voices. There were too many people willing to speak. The lies and excuses of the past were no defense. Always listen to the whispers with an open mind and heart. Heed their power and the courage it takes to speak them. Be ready to act and help those in need. Only then can justice and equality prevail.


Author’s Note: This is something short I wrote for a friend who was going though a bad time. I decided to post it here as well.


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It’s a New Year

I hope everyone is doing well so far this year. I had to take a break from the blog due to holiday stuff and my spotty internet service. In a way, that was a good thing. I’ve been spending way too much time gaming when I should be writing or dealing with other stuff. Most of the holidays were spent with family and doing chores so the house wasn’t a complete mess.

With the new year, I got back to working out. I prefer walking outdoors to running on a treadmill or using an exercise bike. I also invested in a set of weights and new resistance bands. The goal isn’t six pack abs or looking like a cover model for Men’s Fitness. My goal is to just feel better about myself and be a little healthier.

The other thing I did was take a long look at the stories that have been giving me trouble. My first instinct was that the stories weren’t good enough to publish. Maybe I was being a little too critical? It took me a while to put my finger on what was exactly the problem. I like to revisit certain themes and ideas in my stories. If you’ve read any of my books, you already have an idea what some of those themes are. I’m also attracted to certain types of characters. The trap I fell into was that I was retelling stories, not telling new stories. I could have tossed them into the round file or published them as is. Both would have been easy to do. It was even easier to decide against those two courses of actions. Instead, I’ll be spending the next few months reworking the stories. As for which story will be first, it’s a toss up. When I have an update, I’ll let you know.

Finally, you’ll still be seeing posts, short stories, and flash fiction. I can’t tell you how often that will me. I have a lot going on these next few months. As always, take care and catch you later.


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Flash Fiction: The High Ground

This is ground we cannot cede. It must be held and defended. We don’t do it for a tactical advantage. We don’t stand here to look down on our enemies or those we disagree with. We do it because it is the right thing to do. We can’t turn a blind eye to corruption and evil. We might take loses and sustain self-inflicted injuries. That’s a small price to pay. Once ceded, the high ground can be difficult to regain. Better to defend it.


Author’s Note: The draft version of this was posted by accident. Sorry about that. In any case, this story was inspired by recent political events. I have a problem with the idea that doing the right thing isn’t worth it or we should do it because it gives us some kind of advantage. That’s just me.

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Flash Fiction: Buried

It was too precious and fragile to display openly. It could be stolen. It could be broken. Its splendor could distract and lead one astray. The decision to bury it deep wasn’t the best one. Its location was a nearly forgotten secret. Loneliness was the price for safety and success. In retrospect, the cost was too great. In the darkness, it became cold and hard. When the time came to unearth it, the task was difficult. It took time for life, love, and warmth to return. Some aren’t so lucky. That’s why one should never bury their heart.

Author’s Note: This story was inspired by a photo shoot a friend did. Check out my friends over at Wicked Geeky on Instagram and Facebook for their 25 Days of Christmas. Maybe I might post the Christmas story I’m working on for a friend? We’ll see how things this week.

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Flash Fiction: Sharks

They smell it. There is blood in the water, all of it yours. They no longer swim alongside you. They circle, waiting for their moment. Their dead eyes lack empathy. They see your weakness and mistakes. With your strength failing, the sharks close in. If you hadn’t erred so greatly, they would be satisfied with a few nibbles. Instead, this will turn into a feeding frenzy. It’s a just rewards for one who preyed on the weak and powerless.


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T-Day Report

I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving Day. I would have posted sooner but I was distracted with turkey day activities. I ended up spending most of the night watching Doctor Strange with my daughter then playing Warframe till the wee hours of the morning.

The plan for this weekend is to take advantage of the Steam sale and figure out what I really need to buy on Cyber Monday. I can’t go too crazy since I’m planning a shore vacation next month and after New Years.

Other than that, not much is going on. I’m still working on the next book. I did took a break from it to jot down some notes for a story that came to me. Tuesday, I’ll post another flash fiction story. In the meantime, have a great rest of the weekend.

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Flash Fiction: The Black Sheep

I had fallen asleep on the couch. Although my uncle tried not to make any noise, the awkward rattle of him fumbling for his keys was enough to wake me. When he opened the door, letting the light from the hallway in, I could make out his hunched over form. I waited for him to shut the door before turning on the lights to reveal his bruised and battered form.

“You’re hurt. I thought you were……”

“Invincible,” he replied, flashing me a tired smile. “Far from it.”

With those words, he seemed to change. He stood a little straighter and taller. It was as if pain and weakness were beneath him.

“Do the others know?”

My uncle shrugged. “They just see the results. They don’t care about the cost. It’s easier for them to think I can’t be hurt. That I can’t feel anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This is why I’m the black sheep of the family. To the others, I’m a throwback, violent and unpredictable, someone who should only be called when needed. It’s my role.”

The stories my family told about him always illustrated those points. He had a wild side and was capable in a way that frightened people who heard about some of his exploits. Most spoke of him as if he was the boogeyman. He was someone to only be called as a last resort when all else had failed. His words hinted at the pain this caused him.

“Then why do it?” I asked.

“Love and duty,” he said, smiling. “I will always be there for my family but I can’t change who and what I am.”

I don’t know if he ever shared this with anyone else in the family. I didn’t care. To me, he was no longer the black sheep of the family but a white knight. I resolved to treat him as such from this day forward. He would always be welcome.


Author’s Note: I spent some time with a friend visiting this weekend so there was a delay in posting this story. There’s a lot I could say about this story. It’s taken a number of forms and title changes before I settled on the current one. That’s because this story has more meaning for me than most. I represents an evolution of sorts. Initially, I saw one of my uncles as black sheep of the family. I didn’t understand until we actually talked one Christmas. When he passed on, I fell into a similar role. As for sharing my feelings, we’re still working on that part which is why I wrote this story.

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