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Lyncholass – The next big short thing

A friend of mine is working on a short film for the upcoming sundance season.

Check out the trailer here:



Story Thirty – Bundle of Joy

He seems to be getting more and more messed up in the head as the challenge concludes. Frankly, I’m frightened to be a part of his imagination.

“No, Darling, you can barely tell you’ve gained any weight at all.”

Against his eyes’ better judgment, Ron assured Anna that she was as beautiful as always. He wasn’t the best at complimenting anyone. He’d nearly been fired from his best job after he insisted his Boss’s hairplugs looked more natural than the missing strands had in their youth. Of course, when the idea hit him to run his own business, he left anyway.

Anna had been gorgeous. Their relationship was so physical it would exhaust him. She didn’t feel truly loved unless it was beneath the sheets. That was before the incident. Since then there hadn’t been much playing around in the bedroom or any of their other favorite carnal spots. He hadn’t seen her naked since she brought home the news.

“You’re lying. I’m a cow. I’m a pig in a dress. Worse, I’m sweating. Pigs don’t sweat. I’m a goddamn sweating cow-pig in a stupid Kmart sundress going to see my goddamn queen of a fucking mother-fucking mother.” Read the rest of this entry

Story Twenty Nine – Sherlock and Watson

As a conscientious adult, I have to warn the reader that this story is a little more on the mature side. It involves certain concepts not suitable for people below 16.
To be fair, it involves concepts not suitable for ANYONE. THIS IS NOT ABOUT HOLMES, DO NOT COME INTO THIS STORY WITH THAT ASSUMPTION. YOU READ AT YOUR OWN RISK… Thank you, that is all.

Metal cuts skin. That’s a no-brainer, really. Shears are my favorite. They’re strong enough to replace a good knife, but still have that scissors action. Two blades, slicing against each other, creating a huge amount of pressure on such a tiny point separated dermal tissue, muscles, tendons, even smaller bones.

His skin fell away quick enough. It was cold, but not frozen solid. A few sounds escaped. They were reactionary and hurried. When I’d first started, all those years ago, they’d freaked me out a bit. I got used to them over time.

I really didn’t like doing this part. It made me feel strange. It gave me the creeps. I liked everything else, though. My friend got me into it.

At orientation, he introduced himself as Dr. Watson. It was kind of funny, kind of corny, but none-the-less endearing. He’d been a little pudgy back then. The mustache showed him to be a bit older than I was at the time. Within a few minutes I was able to deduce his age, weight, name and his hopeful future medical field. He dubbed me Sherlock. We kept those names, continuing them ourselves and then letting others further the legacy. Read the rest of this entry

Story Four – Ninety Nine

Funny enough…


Work sucks, let’s just get that out of the way.

I don’t want to go back and read your pages because I’m sure it’s going to be a year of me saying ‘work sucks’, ‘my boss is a dick’, ‘I want run away with the hot guy on the cover of the romance novel’, etc. That would depress me.

So I’ll pretend that the rest of you is more prolific. You are now retconned into an awesome and publishable collection of personal musings.

From here on out, this will be about my non-profressional, non-rut-stuck life. I will chronicle my loves, my hobbies and my great dreams.

I really can’t think of any of those at the moment. So I’ll tell you about my day after the suck-ass period of time I call ‘the hours’.

I went to my favorite diner.

This place is adorable. It’s one of those tiny fifties style eateries that serves whatever you want. They only have a few rules. Between 6am and noon, they only serve breakfast. After that, they serve everything except that.

I have my special seat, three stools to the left of the corner closest to the door. It’s not OCD or anything. That’s the seat right across from the kitchen. I get my food first. Read the rest of this entry

Story Three- Outsourced

This is a little dark. Aaron’s gone darker, but I’m a gentle soul. I only got half-way through. I’ll leave it up to you to finish.

You don’t like this house. It’s empty. It’s dark. Your job extends to all parts of the world, to all areas of every city. But this house isn’t right.

Even in the Louisiana summer, it’s cold. Your bones chill, they practically rattle each step you take up the staircase.

When you first started, all those years ago, it was a pain to take the equipment. The clothes help to hide you but they’re so damn cumbersome. It’s hard to forget the times you’ve tripped. It became easier through time but you always have to keep your mind sharp and focused on every move those legs of yours make.

The list says you’re here for Mary Fredericks.

She’s next. Read the rest of this entry