I’m honored that my story “Elvie the Elf from Accounting Learns the True Meaning of Christmas” is one of today’s “Staff Picks” on Medium, featured on the homepage and in their daily email!
It’s a story about class warfare at the North Pole and the true meaning of Christmas and elves trying to sleep with each other.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the North Pole’s management offices, mid- and upper-level elves were getting tight on eggnog. The annual Christmas party was the social event of the season, and most of the elves had quit putting in long days of hard work sometime in mid-November, just to be prepared. Now all the heavy lifting — both literal and figurative — was being handled by the hourly elves in the toy shop, working mandatory overtime to complement their meager wages.
Thanks to Medium for the support and the yuletidiest of nice surprises on Christmas morning!
Read “Elvie the Elf from Accounting Learns the True Meaning of Christmas” at Medium
I wrote a story about a turkey in space who can’t doesn’t want to admit he misses his family. Happy Thanksgiving!
Read “Space Turkey” on Medium
This is one of the first pieces I wrote for my flash fiction project Small Stories. It’s about seagulls (this story, not the project).
Two seagulls stand on a bench, looking out over the water.
“I think Janet is going to leave me,” says the first gull.
“Why?” asks the second gull. He focuses on the first gull’s eye, yellow and black-flecked and taking in the better part of the bay. Or maybe the worse part, depending on who you ask.
“She’s been acting strange,” he replies. “I don’t think she’s happy.”
Read “South” on Medium
Read 100+ flash fiction stories at SmallStories.me
Sometimes I get poetry and prose mixed up in my head, and I end up writing something like this.
Every story ever written is made up of the same twenty-six letters, just in different combinations. That’s a finite number. You can’t just create more letters – at least, not letters that will make any sense to anybody. So every story that ever is, was, or will be is shackled by those twenty-six elegant little restrictions.
Which means that there is only a finite number of stories.
Read “Monkeys” on Medium
Brands do it all the time. Why don’t we?
Emily hired somebody to help her get more “likes” on the internet.
“I normally only do that for companies,” said Jessica, the consultant. She sipped her latte. “What’s your brand message?”
“This is my life,” said Emily. “And it’s a good life to have.”
Read “Likes” on Medium
The end of the world from the inside of a corporate office.
When the sky turned red and space rocks started falling from above, and the seas all rose and hurricanes started buffeting the shores, and the forests were consumed with flames and all the nuclear missiles started counting down, there wasn’t really anywhere to run. Instead we all laid on our backs on the conference table and looked at the ceiling.
“How many ceiling tiles do you think there are?” asked Sheila, from accounting.
“I don’t know,” said Jim. He turned his head. “Do you mean here, or in the whole building? Or in the whole world?”
Read “Meeting” on Medium
A new story on Medium about the power of advertising, or something.
He heard Whug coming before he saw Whug. While Ogg had spent years becoming accustomed to the rhythms of the forest, able to track an animal for miles or disappear from a predator’s path in an instant, perception was not Whug’s strong point. Ogg stared at a wall of dense foliage on the other side of the stream until Whug emerged, sporting a fresh mosaic of bright red scratches on his face and torso.
“Ogg!” he said. “There you are!”
“Here I am,” said Ogg. “And there you are, though I heard you coming all the way from Big Mountain With The White Top. Are you trying to get eaten?”
“Oh, you know me,” said Whug. He grinned, then leaned over and cupped some water in his hands. “Not trying as hard as I could be.” He took a sip of the water and wiped the rest on his cheeks and chest, wincing slightly.
Ogg took another quiet sip and sat back on his haunches. “Might as well sit,” he said. “The animals will all be hiding for a while now.” He shot Whug a look, which Whug either ignored or failed to pick up on completely.
“Good,” said Whug, “because I have something I want to discuss with you. A proposition, if you will.” He leaned over the stream. “There’s not anyone around, is there?”
Read “Entrepreneur” on Medium
New story on Medium about OUTER SPACE!! (andfeelingsoflonelinessanddissolution)
“You stink,” he said, and started to walk away.
I stopped him with a hand on his chest, I think. It was somewhere in what I’d call the upper torso region. “Woah,” I said, “I do not stink. If I smell like anything, it’s your ship.”
“You smell like the Earth,” he said. “You haven’t been through the Cleansing.”
“The Cleansing,” I echoed. “Is that like a bath or something?”
He scratched something on the top of his head. “You’re really the one your planet sent to travel with us?”
Read “The Ritual” on Medium.
A short story about technology (kinda) and relationships (mostly).
“It’s called ‘Countdown,’” says Brian. He looks away from his phone to smile at the bartender as she hands him another beer, then looks back at us. “It’s free.”
He turns the screen towards us and — I hate to say this — it actually looks cute. The cartoon clock, with little clock arms and clock legs, and one hand on his clock hip. “Countdown” is plastered in colorful letters at the top of the screen.
Read “Last Call” on Medium