short-stories

Becky was a weed._ Nobody ever wanted them taking over the bigger, prettier plants._ People went to all extremes to make them go away._ They sprayed poison, pulled until the roots gave way. They felt only like their garden was complete when every tendril was extirpated._ This was how she felt from birth.

We weren__ happy together but we lived in a state of easy, mild contentment. We shared everything except the stupid fucking secret hanging round your neck. I imagined tiny photographs: portraits in sepia of your parents, their faces partially obscured by goitres. Meanwhile, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, maybe not even in a decade from now but one day: the planet would fall apart.

You can't kill an idea the way they try to. You can keep it down awhile, but sooner or later it'll come out. Now what you've got to understand is that the wheel's not evil. Never mind what the scared men all tell you. no discovery is good or evil until men make it that way." -The Wheel, John Wtndham

Bentley is a good bee with a shaky sense of direction and an appetite for mayhem. Just don't call him a drone. He hates that.

Will Cato's alien buddies come en masse and invade Earth? He's not sure but he'll try to keep humanity in the loop.

Lost Cactus is a cornucopia of sights, sounds and inhabitants completely foreign to a little squirrel like Sammy, but attempting to set him straight will only complicate matters.

Ty is green but never with envy. Best of all, he's usually available to help move a heavy piece of furniture.

Lost Cactus is simply an urban myth.

I live in different worlds. One world where I perform my duty as a part of society. My favorite is my world. The writing's world.

He'd wanted to mend her just like his mother had mended his favorite teddy bear when his arm had come loose after too much play. He offered her his pudding cup instead.