Big Bite

I was frantic.

And frantic was a word that I’d never used to describe myself before. Ever.

But, in that moment, that was what I was.


I was fumbling around, looking like a madman. Moving quickly, erratically. Up, under, around, about, and everything in between.

I checked everywhere.

Under the desks. In my backpack. On top of the shelf. I even took apart some lunch boxes, just to see if someone had slipped them inside. But, in the end, I came up empty.

Which is why I was frantic.

“Where the hell did I put them?” I grumbled to myself.

Obviously, I wasn’t expecting an answer. Continue reading “Big Bite”

Hell of my Own

“If we can make it to our rooms before the stairs disappear, we’ll be safe,” he said.

I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t expecting that.

All I know is that, for some stupid reason, I wasn’t.

I sighed.

“This house is a nightmare.”

Raph gave me one of his trademark chagrinned grins. “Yeah, I know.”

But, that was about all we could say.

In this hellscape, it was the only safe haven there was.

Despite the disappearing stairs, the bone monster in the basement, the random doors that impossibly led you back outside, and all the zombies that were corralled into the attic, it was the safest place here.

Which, says a lot. Continue reading “Hell of my Own”

We Without Wings

We without wings.

We watch the skies.

We dream of the chance to fly.

To soar.

We without wings.

We’re constantly looking up.

I know I look up so much, my neck sometimes cracks. Sometimes I crane my neck for so long, that looking ahead seems impossible. At least, compared to looking at the sky. I stare for so long that it becomes painful. Painful to look up, or even down. Painful to think I can only watch from way, way down here.

But I won’t stop staring.

Because if I did, I wouldn’t know what I already know. Wouldn’t have seen what I’ve already seen:


We without wings might always be flightless.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t go to the place of the eagles. That we can’t soar.

I’ll prove it. Continue reading “We Without Wings”

Manageable Mess

“What’s this?”

“Just read it.”

Opening the envelope, I found a card within.

A sympathy card.

On the front was a picture of a sad looking puppy. Inside, the card simply said “sorry for your loss”.


And some handwritten note.

“‘Sorry for killing all your people’?” I quoted.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

But then, I saw the stupid eager look on my dragon’s face and I couldn’t say anything. Not anything bad, anyhow. Continue reading “Manageable Mess”

Hopeless Hallway

There is a clock, ticking, somewhere in your mind. And there is a hallway, split at the end, with that clock looming in between the paths you can take.

The hallway to one side is dark.

The other is lit.

Which path do you take?

How will it impact you?

Let me tell you a secret:

It doesn’t matter.

I don’t care.

Either way will lead you to me.

And that’s all I want. Continue reading “Hopeless Hallway”

The Kettle is Black

We walked in the darkness.

Lost. Confused.

You were scared. I knew you were.

But not me.

I didn’t have time to be scared. Couldn’t afford it.

Not when you were consumed by it.

I don’t know when you stopped walking, but you had. You sat down, looking down at the floor that you couldn’t see. Sitting in the darkness that never seemed to end. The darkness that funneled around us.

But it didn’t consume us.

And that was more than enough for me.

I sighed.  Continue reading “The Kettle is Black”

Atlas, the Worst

There was a guy once who had to hold up the world.

Atlas. That’s what they called him.

In the place where the earth meets the sky, Atlas sat. And he held the world apart from the sky. Kept the heavens from crashing down into us. Kept them from crushing us.

People still talk about Atlas. How strong he was.

But people tend to forget.

Atlas wasn’t there by choice.

He didn’t hold the world up because he thought it was a noble thing to do.

Atlas was being punished.  Continue reading “Atlas, the Worst”

Calling Out Chameleon

Have you ever thought about how well you know a person?

I mean, how well do you really know anyone, right?

If someone came to you, looking like someone you know, would you fall for it? Would you be able to tell it wasn’t them? Or would you need to question them? Ask them things that only the two of you would know, or ask about their personal goals or favorite things. Would you need to verify that it is or isn’t them? Or would you just inherently know?

To most people, I suppose the question is actually inconsequential. Doesn’t really matter. Because, think about it, what are the odds someone is going to approach you and look exactly like that other person, right? Odds are, there’s going to be something about them that they can’t replicate. Like their eye color, or their hair color. Sure, they might look like them, but there’ll probably be a major flaw somewhere in the facade. And, even if there’s not, what are the odds that that person—who is pretending to be the person you know—is going to use that to their advantage? Right? Because, who would do that?

Who would make themselves look like the person you know, and then actually try to convince you that they are that person? That’s insane.


…right? Continue reading “Calling Out Chameleon”

Forest Hand

“Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but, I promise you: I’m not a spirit of the forest. And I’m not a bear.”

The Wildman looked at me suspiciously. As if I were a fish on a like claiming to be a bird.

The physical imagery probably wasn’t that far off.

In that moment, I was dangling upside down by my ankle. Having gotten my foot caught in a pressure-trigger trap made of rope.

That was, actually, why the Wildman was so suspicious of me.

Continue reading “Forest Hand”

Beast of the Surf

Living in the gulf is hard.

At least, when you’re a surfer it is.

There’s never any surf.

If you want surf, you have two options: you go to the other coast.


You wait for a storm.

East coast? Nah. I don’t have time to putt my butt over there. Plus, there’s a ton more sharks in those waters.

So, guess which option I went with. Continue reading “Beast of the Surf”