“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most INTENSE OBSESSIONS mercilessly.” – Franz Kafka
In publication date from the beginning, stats and my favorite scenes/pieces from my fiction, short story collections and flash fiction collections: ebooks/paperbacks. Grab a drink, make it a strong one, we’ll be here for a while.
Always Jane
Published February 2017
Copies 266
Jane got up in front of the funeral attendees and said her peace.
“I loved my mother. I sincerely hope that she is now at peace. Although, I did not like the kind of person she was. She lost out on knowing me as an adult, because she couldn’t let go of the past and move on to a better future. We need to cherish those we have lost in life, not get lost within our own lives without them. And to LeAnn, you win; you’re the daughter she deserved, obedient to the end,” Jane held up her drink, toasted and downed it.
After the Glory
Published April 2017
Copies 51
Buck
It was a slow Tuesday evening at Charlie’s when Buck struck up a conversation with Thomas and Sarah.
“You see that?” he pointed to a picture hanging behind the bar.
“Yep, who is it?” Thomas asked.
“That is Charlie, I bought the bar from him when he retired,”
Thomas looked at the black and white photo of a man, in his early 30’s, wearing a tee-shirt and jeans, standing in front of the bar.
“When Charlie was almost done with school, he met a dame, named Georgiana, everyone just called her George. She was tall, slender and liked to party. Charlie lost his mind over her, to the point that he even proposed, had a ring and everything,” Buck handed Thomas another beer.
“But, right before Charlie was going to graduate from college, his momma died. She had been sick for a while but didn’t tell anyone. So poor Charlie was devastated, his momma was the world to him. His pappa had passed away when he was just a boy, it had been just him and momma,” Buck took a long drink of his beer.
“That poor man,” Sarah said.
“It gets better, during the funeral, while they were lowering his dear momma into the ground, George decided that it was a good time to pick a fight with Charlie. I don’t know what she was all worked up over, but she made quite the scene. Topped off with taking off the engagement ring and throwing it into the hole with the coffin. Charlie was beside himself,”
“Well that’s quite the story,” Thomas said finishing off his beer.
“Charlie finished up school, took the little his momma had left and bought this place,” Buck said.
Grace’s Journey
Published April 2017
Copies 141
The bar was warm, crowded and loud. Grace made her way to the bar and ordered a beer, she figured she should start slow it would be a long night. She surveyed the crowd of cowboys, bikers, workers and couples all drinking, talking and getting along with each other. She ordered a barbecue bacon burger and fries, the smell from the kitchen was enough to make you drool.
She ate her meal and watched the guy playing pool. He was good, not as good as her but good. She finished off her second beer and ordered a shot of Jack. She downed it and headed over to the pool table.
Pieces Fall Together
Published November 2017
Copies 133
Sarah stepped out of the shower, dried off, and slipped on her robe. She stood in the doorway of her bedroom and took in the set up.
The tripod and camera were set up to the side of the bed. The white corded rope was tied around the footboard posts, and the silk scarf was tied to the headboard. The candles were lit, scattered around the room, the sheets were hung over the windows and along one wall. There was a silver tray with the strawberries, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream on the dresser.
“Ready,”
The Complete Collection
Published March 2018
Copies 267
“Can I get you a drink?”
Kent turned to see a friendly smile, she was cute, with short dark hair, deep green eyes, a toned petite body and nice perky breasts.
“Sure, I’ll have a shot of Jack,” Kent answered.
She returned with his shot and said.
“I am Jade, let me know if you need anything else,”
Kent smiled at her and watched her walk away, he took note of the tattoo showing on her lower back, just above her low cut jeans and below her midriff tee-shirt. Two roses with intertwining stems, highlighted with just a touch of red and green.
“Nice,” he thought to himself.
On her way back around the club Kent decided to strike up a conversation with her. He motioned to her.
“Need anything else?” Jade asked.
“What time do you get off?” Kent asked.
“I get off whenever I want, I clock out at 2 am,” she answered and gave him a devilish smile.
A Second Helping
Published May 2018
Copies 134
From the first time I saw her I knew I had to taste those soft, cherry lips. I watched as she slid the lip gloss wand over her lower lip, how it glistened in the summer sun. She rubbed her lips together, giving a kiss to the air. We were attending a summer session at the University. It was a hot, dry summer, and Debbie was fond of wearing white denim shorts with purple flowers printed on them. She wore them rolled up exposing her slender upper thigh, how I longed to touch her smooth, tanned skin. To run my fingers through her long wavy dirty blonde hair, that she kept pulled back in a loose braid. She gathered her things and headed towards class. I followed her, mesmerized by her swaying hips and the click clack of her sandals against the pavement. My obsession now had a purpose, to kiss Debbie Stevens before summer’s end.
No Rest For The Wicked
Published July 2018
Copies 170
Laura sat alone at a booth in Mac’s 24hr Diner nursing her ice tea and picking at her half eaten BLT. Distracted by what she was watching. Jim and his girlfriend Kate were finishing their meal a few tables down.
She watched as Jim helped Kate with her coat, how he smiled at her, how he touched the small of her back as they walked out.
Laura fought back tears, as she finished off her ice tea, threw a twenty on the table and followed them out into the night. She took a second to light a cigarette before walking behind them.
She stayed far enough back as to not be heard, but close enough to watch their interactions. They slowed up in front of an apartment building, Jim pulled Kate to him and kissed her. She gave him a hug, a peck on the cheek and headed up the stairs. Laura’s tears turned to rage, and jealousy.
Descending The Spiral Staircase
Published May 2019
Copies 64
James let himself into Stella’s, taking his jacket off and joining Stella and Holly in the kitchen.
“How are we all doing?” he asked, grabbing a cup of coffee.
“About as good as can be expected,” Stella answered.
“Holly, do you feel up to telling me what happened?” James asked, taking a seat across from them.
“Yeah, are you going to take notes?”
“Sure, just a sec,”
James went back into the sitting room, grabbing his notepad and ballpoint pen out of his jacket pocket.
“Ok, go ahead,” he said, sitting back down.
“I went to grab some food from Dentz’s Deli on 5th, I was gone for maybe twenty minutes,” Holly cleared her throat and took a sip of her coffee.
“What did you order?” James asked.
“Is that really important?”
“Not really, just curious,” James smiled at her.
“Pastrami on rye, with extra mustard, garlic dill pickle, with a bag of chips on the side and a tall iced tea with a wedge of lemon, satisfied,”
“Yeah, go on, please,”
Haunted Hydrangeas: An Experiment in Flash Fiction
Published October 2019
Copies 59
Larry fumbled the keys, dropping them to the floor.
“Why do we have to do this here?” Dave asked, shifting the two bags of take out in his arms.
“Because no one understands,” Larry answered as he bent down to pick up the keys. He slid the key into the lock.
‘Click’ he opened the door. The two men entered the small rundown apartment. Dave set the two bags of take out down on a small kitchen table that was just to the right of the door. Larry found the switch and flipped the light on. Something scurred across the floor and down the hall.
“Well that’s disturbing,” Dave said, taking a seat at the table.
“He doesn’t eat much,” Larry said, heading into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He pulled out two bottles of beer, grabbed a roll of paper towels off the counter and took a seat across from Dave.
“Ready?” Larry asked, handing Dave a beer.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dave answered using the bottle opener on his keychain to pop the top off of his beer. Larry handed him his bottle and Dave popped the cap off and handed it back.
“Cheers,” Larry said, holding up his beer.
“Cheers,” Dave said, knocking his beer against Larry’s.
Larry started laying out containers of food, baby back ribs, Texas beef brisket, Georgia pork, baked beans and coleslaw. The last container was tall and round, it contained the sweetest, richest barbecue sauce this side of the Mississippi. Larry carefully removed the plastic lid from the styrofoam container and inhaled deeply.
“Mmmm…take a whiff,”
Dave leaned over the table and smelled the warm sweet sauce.
“Smells like my Aunt Dee’s kitchen back in Tulsa,”
Larry picked it up and poured it slowly over the baby back ribs, the Texas beef brisket and the Georgia pork.
“Plates?”
“We don’t need plates, just dig in,” Larry said, handing Dave a fork and a paper towel.
Dave stabbed his fork into the container of Texas beef brisket, and slid the dripping piece of meat into his mouth. It was tender, juicy and sweet.
Detective Stories
Published February 2020
Copies 98
Paperbacks 4
Detective James Andrews looked down at the slip of paper that he held in his hand. He took a drag of his cigarette and mumbled to himself.
Why am I out here
The wind screamed through the surrounding trees, causing a cascade of yellow and orange leaves. James glanced at the clock on the dash, 8:05 PM, he turned the key back and stepped out into the chilly air.
It had better not snow
He thought as he pulled his coat tight and flipped up his collar. He made his way to the tall rod iron gate and found that it was slightly ajar. Pushing the gate open just enough for him to enter the Stony Hill Cemetery, one of the oldest cemeteries in the area, the last of its residents were buried in the late seventies.
“Detective,” a male voice said from behind James.
James turned around and faced the stranger’s voice.
Down the Rabbit Hole: Another Experiment in Flash Fiction
Published October 2020
Copies 28
Martha stood at the arrival gate in the Kansas City International Airport, clutching John’s dark blue winter jacket to her chest. John had been deployed overseas, it had been the longest six months of Martha’s life. She watched, shivering in anticipation as the crowd of people exited the jetway, waiting to see his familiar face among the crowd. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him, he immediately pulled her into his arms, the winter jacket being crushed between them. She never felt safer or more at peace.
Hat Trick: A Finale of Flash Fiction
Published June 2021
Copies 16
The wispy clouds danced in the bright blue sky as I strolled down the lane. I was lost in a daydream as I passed a peculiar sight. Now the lane splits and I take the footpath that follows along the river. Thinking to myself, I’ve seen many things in my day. There was a very confused man staring at a pineapple in the waiting room of Dr. Jane Kisers office. But this may take the cake. As I approach to pass the strangeness, I wonder how and why? We pass each other, I stare in disbelief at what my eyes are showing me. It looks at me, I look at it as our paths cross. It seems to nod in agreement. As I laid in bed staring at the popcorn ceiling, and smelling the lingering scent of pastrami from the deli restaurant downstairs. I wondered why, why was it blue? As I pour myself a cup of dark rich hot coffee, the next morning I am still wondering why. I drop two scoops of sugar and a splash of creamer into my ‘I hate mornings’ Garfield mug that Liz gave me for xmas a few years back. I sip my coffee and wonder… Why were the ducks feathers a dark shade of navy blue? And why was a banana being drug behind on a string? I take another sip of my seaming hot coffee, glance out the window and let out a quiet chortle. “How else is a blue duck supposed to take a banana for a walk?”
Random Words: A Collection of Flash Fiction
Published November 2021
Copies 16
Mr. Davis sat in the center of the downtown mall, playing Billy Joel’s Piano Man. Watching the people go about their day. As he played he took note of the pretty, cute redhead that works at the coffee shop. She would linger by the door watching him play. He caught her eye and motioned a come here finger towards her. She smiled, looked to see that no one was waiting for service, and hurried over. “Yes,” she said. Mr. Davis smiled at her. “Can you bring me a regular cup of coffee?”
Embracing the Chaos of Flash Fiction
Published July 2022
Copies 25
The moonlight dripped through the forest’s canopy illuminating the small clearing. Tall ancient oaks surrounded by lush green moss.
Muirne entered the clearing, the moonlight shimmering off her tall, slender frame. Highlighting her toned calves, abs, and shoulders. The moon elf druid being pulled to the clearing by a haunting voice.
Holding her oak staff and raising her hand towards the dark sky, the staff began to glow a rich dark green. The winds picked up creating a cyclone around Muirne. The vines crawled up her legs, slithering around her waist as she chanted.
“Teacht chugam Teacht chugam. Ciallmhar!”
All of a sudden the winds became still. A loud crack of thunder rang out in the clearing. A tall broad shouldered figure dressed in gold robes appeared next to her. A deep voice said. ” Why have you awoken me?”
“Wait a minute, Rob, can she do that? Doesn’t she need to roll first?” Chad asked. “Umm, I think it’s OK. Go on Carol, what happens next?” Rob said leaning in over the table. Carol grinned and cleared her throat. “I’ve woken you, because our world is in chaos. The dark one has set upon us.” Carol continued.
“See I told you she would make things more interesting.” Rob whispered to Chad as they listened to Carol. Chad nodded in agreement.
*Teacht chugam, Ciallmhar (Gaelic for Come to me, Wise one)*
An Experiment in Flash Fiction
Published July 2022
Copies 23
Paperbacks 3
Lottie pulled her rose colored coat snug, she slipped on her boots and ventured out into the weather. The gray sky hinted of oncoming snow, Lottie folded her arms around herself as the wind began to bellow around her. She made her way down to Main Street and entered a small grocery store. She made her selection and stood at the counter to make her purchase. Mrs. Williams looked at Lottie and then down at the item, then back at Lottie. “Yes, I know.” Lottie said, fishing out some coins from the pocket of her coat. Mrs. Williams let out a sigh and collected the coins in payment, and placed the item in a small bag. Lottie smiled, took the small bag and headed home. After slipping off her boots and hanging up her coat, Lottie made her way to the kitchen, got herself a spoon and continued into the living room. She made herself comfy on the couch and opened the small bag, taking out the pint of cherry cordial ice cream.
Lost Among the Hydrangeas
Published November 2022
Free Copies 13
The walking stick was Grandfathers. Standing four and a half feet tall, made of white beech, it leaned against the wall next to the door. Lined with ornate carvings, the walking stick was an extension of Grandfather’s personality.
Everyday he would lace up his boots, toss on his navy blue cloak, securing it at his neck with a wooden toggle button and taking his walking stick headed out to herd the goats. Nestled in the Swiss Alps, Grandfather would walk the fields of wildflowers surrounded by the crisp snow covered peaks.
Moving the goats from the lower fields to the upper fields and then back home. His daily trek started at sunrise and ended at sunset, every day up the hill around the lake and back down. Heidi stood next to the walking stick, she ran her fingertips gently along its smooth curves.
Grandfather had passed and now it was Heidi’s responsibility to lead the goats on their daily journey. Growing up with Grandfather she had accompanied him many times on his trek. She knew the route, how to call the goats that wandered away from the pack, how to keep them moving.
Her heart felt heavy, as she laced up her boots and tossed on her dark red cloak. She gripped the walking stick, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. Heidi opened the door and headed out into the crisp cool Autumn air. She made her way over to the goats pen and opened the gate, the goats took off running towards the open field.
She began her trek using the walking stick to help keep the goats in line and for balance as she reached the steep ridge of the hill. Heidi stood at the top of the hill looking out at the vast fields of wildflowers, a cold stiff breeze blew. Sending a cold sensation through her bones. It was at that point that she noticed that a stray goat had wandered into an adjoining field. As she headed down to gather up the goat she tripped over a jagged rock.
She tumbled down the hill landing on her back. Heidi laid among the soggy grass, gazing up at the sky that had begun its descent into twilight. This is the moment that Heidi made a decision that she had been putting off for some weeks now.
The neighboring farm that housed goats and other livestock had made her an offer for her herd. She now knew that this life of herding goats was not for her. Getting up to her feet and collecting the wandering goat she got the herd back to the house.
Now Grandfather’s walking stick lives in Heidi’s house placed against the wall next to the fireplace, where Heidi can admire it and remember her Grandfather.
Detective Stories -Scarlet
Published January 2023
Copies 24
Paperbacks 1
Knock, Knock. Knock, Knock, Knock.
“Sherry open the fuck’n door.” Brad shouted as he pounded on the door to apartment 4. The door flung open.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back.” Sherry said standing in the doorway. Brad grunted and pushed his way past her into the apartment.
“What are you on about?” He asked as he opened the fridge, pulling out a soda popping the tab and downing it.
“Dude, you broke Tim’s nose.” Brad gave her a sideways glance.
“What?”
“What do you mean, ’what.’ You broke his fuck’n nose Brad.” Brad finished off the soda, tossed the can into the trash and made his way to the bedroom. He grabbed his duffle bag from the closet and started putting clothes in it.
“What are you doing?” Sherry asked as she watched him.
“Leaving. Tell your brother I’m sorry.”
Grace’s Story
Published April 2023
Copies 46
In a farmhouse surrounded by acres of sweet corn on a warm summer’s day in late June, Grace Ann Chapman came into this world screaming.
Local paper birth announcements:
The community of Ridgeville Nebraska would like to welcome Grace Ann born June 22nd, 1974 to William and Martha Chapman. Congratulations on your healthy baby girl.
Martha clipped out the announcement from the Daily Sun Newspaper and taped it into Grace’s baby book.
William Chapman worked the land that had been handed down to him from his father. It was hard daily grueling work to keep the corn crops healthy and on schedule for harvest. He took pride in what his family had established over the past three generations of Chapman’s and did his best to keep it going. With the birth of his first child, Grace Ann he knew that there would need to be more children, he loved and adored his daughter but knew that a son would be needed to keep the farm in the Chapman name.
Grace Ann was a sweet helpful child that was always full of questions. Always asking why this or why that. When her brother William Joseph was born five years later, Grace became a little quieter, but still helped Martha clean and cook, just not asking as many questions. Two years later Grace’s youngest brother was born, Jonathan Michael was a loud baby he cried and screamed about everything. Grace tried to be helpful, but Jonathan’s constant crying wore on her, she stopped asking questions all together.
That’s it 1,588 copies, and 8 paperbacks sold.
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