Category Archives: Short Stories

Motherly Love


The world can be complicated, but some things are simple—like a mother protecting her cub.  There is no thought or analysis.  There is only instinct and reflex.  This is her job.  This is her life.  This is her all.  The Liquid Man knew this, but knowing and feeling are not the same.  He delivered a message through tissue and bone.

“Call to John…”


The Call

Telephone-Booth–Photographed by Tyler Buschman–

“Phone home…” is all that he said.  It sounded important, so we offered our help.

Others wanted to stop us.  I couldn’t understand why they thought as they did…but understanding lacks value when facing adversity.  So we adversed, through land and air and sea—two opposing sides competing for two opposing goals.  And in the end, we won.  We won, and they lost, and all was well in all the lands.

Until he returned.  Angry and vengeful and flanked by his peers.

I now understand why they wanted to stop us.


Love— Photographed by Tyler Buschman —

They told me it was the answer.  That no matter what it would, “find a way.”  Find a way?  Heh.  To disappear, maybe.  Down to nothing but a speck of a crumb.  “Find a way,” is something they say when they know it’s too late.  All I can do now is watch it unravel, one thread at a time.  But what’s time without worth?  Perhaps it’s the sneakiest evil.  Too much of it providing too little.  Yet here I stand, holding onto nothing more than one lonely thread.  It’s all I can do with the time we have left.



Photographed by Tyler Buschman

“Blacks and whites!” I told them.  “Nothing more than blacks and whites…”  And I was right.  But so were they.  Blacks and whites are clean.  They’re simple.  They’re safe.  But I didn’t care.  I saw color.  I saw color and wanted to show them what they were missing.  But they’d never seen color.  You can’t know what you can’t see.  So there I sat, selling cars to horsemen.  Nothing more than an unwanted luxury.  And I get it.  I really do.  But if you ever grow old of the blacks and the whites, I’ll be here.  I’ll always be here.





“A Tale of Two Cities…” he thought.  “One leading Here and one leading There.  Here and There and There and Here.  Equally traveled.  Equally curious.  Equally unequal.  One is best and one is worst, but which?” he wondered.  “But which…”

Now Tyler, you see, has always been a man of certainty.  Without it he’s lost, and he hates to lose.  So there he stood, waiting for a sign.  Just waiting and waiting.  And waiting and waiting.  And waiting and waiting and waiting.  But a sign never came.  So Tyler never went.  And ‘til this day he stands, unmoved but certain.

Last Call

Last Call 2

It’s last call and I’m watching a pretty girl do ugly things.  I don’t like it, so I toss a fat stack on the belly of the bar.  She says she’s flattered but taken.  I ask if she loves him.  Hesitation screams the truth—the truth and plenty more.  “There’s no time for half-ass’in,” I tell her, “not in this world, anyway.”  Her focus shifts from my money to my confidence.  I have her and she knows it.  The two of us become one, and we skid the fuck out of dodge.  I don’t know what’s ahead, and I don’t care.  All I know is I’m in love, and the girl I love is clutching tight.  That’s all I need.  At least for now…