The Goblin Toymakers, Too
(A quick intro bit. First this is way longer than the normal x-mas story but it needed to be. Second this is a sequel. You don’t need to read the first but if you want to you can go read the original The...
The Goblin Toymakers
Santa’s Workshop stood as a beacon of light in wintery darkness. The sounds of bustling, toymaking, and joy emanated from within. Alongside them rang out sounds of violence, light weaponry, and sheer chaos....
Before The Visits
The ghosts sat around a table, sipping whiskey. Each whiskey a different vintage: one well aged and full bodied, one freshly bottled and harsh, and one somehow not yet even made but still filling a glass tasting of...
Mr. Binkles and the Curious Case of Changed Perspective
(Way back in 2003, when I was still writing horror, I wrote a short story about a teddy bear. It eventually inspired a sequel and almost a trilogy (long story). But it has been ages and been reprinted a few times...
The Handbasket
The sounds and smells of the city washed over her like a rain of emotional baggage. Large, heavy baggage, the type you buy for a field trip to another continent. They pelted her until she had to close her eyes and...
A Tale of Two Astronauts
Two astronauts sit on a swing set. The swing set is floating in space. They do not move, except for the general motion of the universe. The astronauts have no purpose, no reason for being. They know they were only...
You better watch out!
“YOU BETTER WATCH OUT!” The words rang out loudly, electric and static, from the sky. People in the city looked up to see two, thirty-foot tall, blue, robots descend on pillars of flame coming from...
Wian Bhite – The Worst Detective in Deductive sans Reasoning.
As soon as I heard the door close I knew I had found the killer. It was, to be honest, just that easy. The woman sat down and looked up at me, as if to say “What do you want?” “What do you...
RADIOACTIVE
A bit of fiction for you, with an explanation at the end: “I don’t want you to go,” Brett said. He leaned back on his hands, the grass tickling his wrists. “And I wish Cherenkov radiation...