Cabin Fever

It's that time of year. Friggin' winter won't leave, and I just want to get a whole bunch of writing done before Spring. A couple days ago I was like,…

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The Sand Taker – Audio

I am thrilled to inform you that my short story "The Sand Taker" has been recorded in convenient audiobook format, and it is all kinds of ready for YOU to listen to! My pal Jordan Etheredge provided this super amazing narration, and I hope you give it a listen!

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Dr. Strangebrew – Flash Fic From Ben Eads

Howdy, magnificent people!

Today I have something super cool to share. It’s a piece of flash fiction by my pal Mr. Ben Eads, which I predict you will enjoy thoroughly. Be sure to click Ben’s links at the end of the story. I’m just gonna pipe down now and let Ben do his thing:

Fear and Loathing in Orlando… 
Or How I learned to love Coffee

By Ben Eads

We were somewhere outside of Orlando when the caffeine withdrawals began to take hold. I remember saying something like, “I feel a bit lightheaded. Let’s pull over and check the beans.” And suddenly I began to shake. No sympathy for the devil.

Was it really my fault that my Barista and I ended up like this? Who would have known the antidote for whatever God-forsaken plague hit us was coffee?

“I can only drive with beans, Strangebrew…what do we have left?” My Barista asked. Christ, man…keep calm. I turned the radio on as I began to pull over next to an abandoned warehouse.

Reports are coming in that the terrorist threat is now in total control of the world’s coffee bean surplus. President—

I had to turn it off. Too depressing. Six more hours to Miami. Six tough hours. In search of a dream, and greener pastures. Where the beans could be plucked from trees with your bare hands. In this foul year of our Lord, 2018, it was the only chance we had.

We would arrive twisted, bent, reeling from the beans and other party favors in the trunk. We even had a can of Folgers…and I knew we would get into that nasty shit soon. There is nothing more helpless and depraved than a man in the depths of a Folgers binge. The brain refuses commands, the spine recoils in horror. You start behaving like the town drunkard in some old Irish novel. Again, no sympathy for the devil.

(more…)

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