“Intervention”

Here we have a tale of an individual offering an unorthodox justification for his vices.
I can see this story not being for everyone, given its abrasive protagonist and his (or her..?) cavalier attitude toward addiction, but I hope it isn’t taken that seriously.


Okay, right off the bat: NO, I don’t have a problem.

Yes, maybe I drink a little more than the average bear. But am I not entitled? Life’s a bitch, and sometimes I need to unwind. Besides, I know when to stop. I know my tolerance level. When I was still working, I never let it affect me. Sure, I might have snuck a beer or swig of something harder here and there, but despite what my jackass supervisor said, it never affected my work.

Working at a movie theater wasn’t exactly brain surgery.

And yes, I’ll admit I do partake in drugs sometimes. But I am not an addict. I can say no or stop anytime I want. I don’t because I have it under control. And again, I never let it interfere with my job. I wasn’t stupid enough to try sneaking blasts of coke while I was working—my boss was making up stories and exaggerating. He never liked me and was always looking for an excuse to lay me off.

What..? Well, yeah, I’ve been doing coke a little more than usual, but I’m not working right now. Excuse me for indulging. I told you: it’s not an addiction. The reason I do it as often as I do—which really isn’t that often—is because I know I can stop anytime. If I thought I couldn’t control it, I would stop.

What’s so hard to understand about that? Continue reading

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“Fitting In”

Another of my early efforts about a girl named Melissa finding herself in high school.
And zombies.


Melissa Shaw entered George Spiggott High School that Monday morning, struck with a feeling she was going to be shot with a sniper any moment.

Nothing seemed right that morning. Her clothes and even her hair felt like foreign things grafted to her body. The familiar ashy gray hovering over town for the past few days remained as it had been, leaving the world wet and bleak. Although she didn’t pay much mind to the sickly looking people shambling around the street, it was hard to ignore the number of ill people on the bus she rode in on. Everything felt off, and her worries about school only seemed to compound it. Continue reading

“The New Babysitter”

This is one of my first short stories, and I think the first work I ever tried to get published. I’ve never been really sure what genre it should fall under—a sort of horror-comedy-thriller, I guess. Can’t say if it holds up, but it has a special place for me.
It’s a twist on the old babysitter story where said babysitter gets harassed on the phone by a creepy guy lurking outside.


I know I have problems. My parents knew—I knew—we were taking a risk letting me babysit the McAllister kids. But in my defense, honestly, what are the odds? I certainly didn’t go in that night thinking things would escalate the way they did. I didn’t want anyone to die … Continue reading