Archive for the ‘Damn Short Stories’ Category
Revision: The Death of the Death of Death
I have made some significant revisions to The Death of the Death of Death, which I believe tighten up the story (I swear, that’s a technical term) a good deal and make certain elements a little clearer. You will find the new draft in place of the old draft, and for the time being the old draft is not available. I may at some point create a category for original drafts of stories that have been revised, but it won’t be today!
Note: The story is now in its third major revision. Thanks to everyone who’s helped in the critique of this piece!
Elephant Shoes
Kaitlin Thomas reached across the bed as the first rays of dawn began to light her bedroom. She slipped her hand under the sheet and softly stroked her husband’s abdomen. She smiled, thinking of how he had felt in her last night; how he would feel in her again within moments. With a tenderness that whispered of great love mingled with lust she softly caressed his chest and nipples. A smile grew on her lips as the sheet above his pelvis swelled and twitched with an unconscious rhythm.
Jim Brewman’s Wife
James Brewman’s wife was a beautiful woman full of life and charm and intelligence. She had a smile that could make any man and most women swoon, and Jim felt a swell of pride in his chest that of all the choices she could have made, she’d chosen him to be her friend, her love, her husband. He was, in his own estimation, a simple man without much fanfare. Average in looks and talent, he was the simple steward of a computer network for a small aircraft manufacturing firm. Like his wife, Eliana, he was an intelligent soul, but what he lacked in charisma and style, she made up for with her overabundance of both, and so much more.
Birth Pains
My world had changed. I struggled to understand the voice that whispered in me…this might be pretty nice. I was halfway from Los Angeles to Sacramento when I realized I’d passed the last gas station for fifty miles. The thin orange needle teetered over the white “E” at the bottom of the fuel gauge. It was just after midnight and my old pickup truck began to cough and sputter as its insatiable thirst for gasoline was no longer quenched.
The Death of the Death of Death
The sound of traffic bustling along the streets of Manhattan was especially crisp in Sovereign Ennos’ ears as he walked briskly toward the corner of 5th Avenue and East 34th street. It was 8:55:48AM and the distant top of the Modern Empire Capitol Building arced toward the sky before him like a glimmering spike of pearl. One hundred and ninety-nine stories into the sky it stood: defiant, beautiful, and in a moment it wouldn’t matter to him or the world at all. His achievement, he knew, would rocket higher and faster than any other, and at 9:00:00AM he would come to destiny’s door with a knock and a smile.