To contradict the accompanying photo, this story takes place during UNhappy Hour. A bar, yes. Happy, no. This tale has one of the more disgusting scenes I’ve ever written– in a good, horror story kind of way. You’ll know it when you read it. And you can read it at Idle Ink.
Blink-Ink #52 is out. If that wasn’t exciting enough, my 50-word microfiction “Behind Schedule” is in it. 25 more tiny tales are also shoeboxed in this peewee publication. Subscribe today, that way you won’t miss out on a single mini masterpiece.
Be sure to read the excellent interview with Blink-Ink editors Doug and Sally on Chill Subs.
As horror goes, this story is rather tame. There is no gore, there are no grisly monsters. There is the Harv itself, but it’s just barely hideous. The real horror comes when one realizes that a story like this is possible.
And then there was the writing of it. I first concocted the plot and submitted it to a few journals with no takers. The rejections were understandable, the creature was abhorrent in the abstract, but needed to become real. In a major rewrite, I objectified the Harv even further by giving it a number (H3JJDx617) while showing glimpses of the creature’s emotion, curiosity and love of mangoes. Published in December 2020 by Teleport Magazine.
THE HARV
by DL Shirey
Dillon Baumgartner stopped before a portrait, one in a row of two dozen along the wall. Each was spotlit, in a thick, ornate frame, yet none had nameplates. Identification wasn’t necessary; Baumgartner recognized the faces. They were among the most affluent men and women in America.
“I thought these were photographs,” he said as he fussed with straightening the visitor’s badge pinned on his lapel. “They’re oil paintings.”
The young man, Cooper, according to his official badge, slowed his walk, but didn’t stop. “Photographs of oil paintings, actually. The originals were gifted to our benefactors, to show our appreciation,” he said, “This way, please.”
This is a flash fiction about a medical procedure in the near future. It is best summed up with a line uttered by the main character: “Why on God’s green Earth would anyone develop a cancer treatment like this, that only worked if the patient was conscious?” Published by Dark Horses Magazine in an anthology available on Amazon.
This story is about a professional assassin with an unusual way of doing business. And he’s doing business with someone equally peculiar. Published by the aptly-titled journal Half Hour To Kill.
50-word stories are known as Dribbles, those with 100 are called Drabbles. The Dribble Drabble Review publishes them both and in Issue VII is my 50-worder about a very sad garage sale.
One-two-three-four-five-six, blow. One-two-three-four-five-six, blow. The same rhythm every time. Each rasp of her emery board makes me grip the steering wheel tighter.
At arms length she studies her work, spots a flaw and attacks the inexactitude in cadence. She splays five fingers, nods and begins the other hand.
What does volunteering for the greater good look like in a tech-mech world? In the near future, X-O could be a possibility. The question is: how near is near?
The protagonist in this story feels overwhelmed. He uses a trick taught by his psychiatrist: 5-4-3-2-1. It’s the only way he knows to stop obsessing. This is a 100-word story published in Grimdark from Black Hare Press. As you might expect, all the stories in this anthology are grim and dark.