Schooling for Coach

Forthcoming in Mysteries Trade Magazine, a zine featuring a glorious range of creations including this sudden fiction about a JV basketball team trying to learn a high-stakes new play from their biology teacher slash coach.


Dreams of Me

This bleaklicious flash appeared in Horror Tree’s weekly online publication, Trembling with Fear. If you like creepy doll ghosts and don’t mind the horror of how they got that way or what they might do, you might enjoy this one.

Separate Worlds

Check out PULP Literature Issue 41, Winter 2024, which includes “Separate Worlds”, my skippy fun flash about phones, tones, bones, and a little global meltdown. It’s just one possible answer to the age-old question for whom that bell tolls. I hope its truthy darkness resonates in you.

A Break from the Sky

This flash won first place in Backchannels Journal‘s 2022 fiction contest. The story mixes an airport with a cabin, adds a splash of nostalgia, and garnishes it with a shitty marriage. Give it a try, maybe it’s your kind of cocktail.

Fair Aliquant

An executioner serves justice to the traitor who murdered the beloved princess. Published September 30, 2022 at Daily Science Fiction.


“Smilers” was originally published in Bourbon Penn #20 in March 2020. Podcastle produced an audio reprint in January 2022, and it was translated into Chinese in the October 2021 issue of Science Fiction World. “Smilers” also received an Honorable Mention in Ellen Datlow‘s Best Horror of the Year Volume 13. The Smilerverse is spreading!

The Hungry Eye

A teenager’s in line for coffee ahead of a pushy man in a suit, but what’s served up is more than the cappuccino he ordered. Published in Bourbon Penn #23, March 2021.

Dark Morsels

Sample the tasty darkness. A collection of eleven tiny fictions, including two new flashes to deepen that hollow, hopeless feeling we all cherish. Out now from Red Bird Chapbooks.


Aiden rests his chin on the back of the living room couch, watching his older brother mow down zombies . . .

Waiting for the Trustafarian Migration

Trees creak in the steady wind rushing off the foothills.

Trustafarians dash from coffee shop couches into the streets to spin like bearded dust devils, worshipping the wind. They call the winds chinooks, just like the locals, not that they’ve met many of those. Rare birds, those locals.

Beetle in her Pocket

“I’m going to be an entomologist,” Isabelle says. Her dress doesn’t have a pocket, or she’d have brought one of her pets. Her hands feel empty.

Ms. Solevacj’s Leaf-mould

Ms. Solevacj was in the middle of her 72-lap morning mile, the early sluggishness in her muscles burned off, leaving her feeling strong, a machine gliding through the water. This was why she swam, to reach this Zen-like headspace, her mind and body simultaneously relaxed and stimulated. In this state, and only in this state, she could think clearly, almost calmly, about the Smiler virus.

Dead Spider Curl

We’re loaded down with tampons and pads, and Mom’s heading straight for the cute checker’s lane. Seriously? I’d die if I had to stand there while he rung us out. It’s obvious, right? I totally get it, she’s distracted, sad about Lance and all that, but right now we’ve got bigger issues. I steer her toward the old lady’s lane.

Sparkly Thing

The restaurant was empty, the lunch rush over,
and I was buffing down tables in hard circles—Ryan
had just moved in with some stupid cow he met at a
club—when a heavyset middle-aged woman
sporting gigantic shades came in.

Flip Side

Squatting on the curb in front of a boarded-up duplex, a woman rocks back and forth, arms crossed, arguing with herself.

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