Candy Corona

Candy Corona clenches her gut and clamps her lips as a droplet of saliva, caught between a breath and a swallow, causes her lungs to hack. “Let us bow our heads and pray for those not under quarantine in this hour of world tribulation.” Candy’s eyes water, her nose begins to drip and in the…

Number Two

“Ready to go?” Bork barks as he opens the back door. I am finishing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before hanging out at the music store. Bork’s mom’s boyfriend, Chad is taking us. I have never met Chad, but Bork’s mom’s boyfriends are pretty much all the same. They smell like beer and their…

#10 The Confessor of Littlefield

Most humans learn to speak before they learn to wipe. Speaking proceeds from the need caused by the itch. Because you have an itch you have a self that concludes, “you need to wipe your ass.” It’s a nugget of knowledge that you stow away in your back pocket until you are older and you…

Scavengers

Seven swallows pecking seeds chasing chickadees and bickering A surly sparrow not necessarily the strongest but the meanest strikes back at the circle of others encroaching not him but whatever he is A mourning dove appears and with its zig zagged peck begins striking seeds and wallowing with the seven swallows then another dove arrives…

#9 The Confessor of Littlefield: The Node

This is another short story from the novel The Confessor of Littlefield. The narrator, Adam is exploring his own identity within the framework of his environment, the associations and disassociations between the self and the mirror of selves that comprise the network of I. The Node I had to have a new respiratory system installed….

#8 Confessor of Littlefield: Baked Potato Cop with Runny Eggs Eyes

Confessor of Littlefield #8 This is a story within the novel The Confessor of Littlefield. Within the narrative of the novel, this story is written by the narrator, Adam. It reveals my appreciation for Kafka. Baked Potato Cop with Runny Eggs Eyes I am sucked into a tunnel and spit into an interrogation room, hanging…

Bakers and Butchers

Bakers and Butchers Two voices loosely strung together, symbiotic each with unknown origins prying forward with the least resistance through the conundrum The faces of old historians are cupcakes, marshmallows cotton candy and meat chewing, spitting, clamoring figuring, weaving, blurring what is the denomination of higher concerns that compels us to incite the bakers and…

#7 The Confessor of Littlefield: The Wiper and the Blade

kkikMy own persona is building itself into the greater circle of John Hapflik, Bill Dinklpfuss, and this small Great Lakes town. My voice has enacted an auxiliary existence at the special service of itself. I am a dreamer; something that isn’t appreciated in pragmatic America, much to my chagrin and consternation. This is my narrative…

The One Who Taught You Everything

The One Who Taught You Everything by RJ Hoffman I’m the One who taught you everything that birds can fly with lonesome notes crowds can flow for those commanding all the woes not withstanding I was taught by fear to hate those who would break away from group murderous cross rebuke those who might dare…

Back Row Hooligan

A blog fiction writer, by the time he is middle aged, comes to find the importance of community. Writers are satellites when they are young. Some are angry and use that energy to fuel their creativity, or their lack of it. The one to himself, postulating, summarizing, mistaking his vitriol for identity laughs at the…