Mother’s Day


I hope that you will all forgive me for posting a day late, but yesterday I was having too much fun for Mother’s Day. I hope everyone else had fun with their moms too!

Please enjoy the next installment of “Something You Can’t Forget.”

With Screams and Axes,



That next morning, Melissa filled a metal colander full of fresh strawberries and watched the golden light from the morning sun play in the stream of cool water she held them under. She washed the berries under the water gently, smelling the sweetness that she could almost taste. She let the fruit dry on the rack and went over to the chocolate dipper to turn the temperature knob up and melt the chocolate. She set the tray with the fruit on the counter of the dipper, snapped a pair of rubber gloves over her hands and grabbed a small wooden skewer. She pierced the head of a strawberry and dipped it in the chocolate pool, letting the warm aroma waft across her lips as she twirled the strawberry in smooth dark chocolate. She thought about what she would eat today and what she shouldn’t.

After the strawberries were dipped and their chocolate shells hardened, she set them in the glass display case and unlocked the double glass doors of the chocolate shop. She stood in the doorway for a moment listening to the soft sounds of the shopping mall in the morning. The elevator-music played to no one expect for a couple mall-walkers meandering the hallways, and the odd employee hurrying to their shop to punch in on time. Melissa was the manager of the chocolate shop. She had been promoted to the position six months ago when the original manager had quit with little notice. Melissa liked the job. Unlike many stores in the mall, hers was relatively quiet and slow except for Valentine’s Day and Christmas. Melissa had worked in the mall for a couple of years. The men who worked in the mall all seemed to know her before she knew them. She knew she was supposed to mind this, and sometimes she did, but most of the time she told herself that she didn’t.

This morning, Melissa sat behind the counter thinking about chocolates and how many calories were in a single truffle. Too many, she knew as she bit into one, breaking the delicate shell between her teeth. She instantly regretted the action, and considered spitting it out for a moment. But she didn’t. She felt the quick joy of the creamy sweetness on her tongue before it was gone and an anxious pit formed in her stomach. “It’s too late,” she thought. “I’ve already ruined the day.” She bit into another truffle and felt something frantic wretch itself free inside her mind. After her third truffle, she felt as though she might cry, and to remedy the situation she pushed the lunch she had packed for herself off the counter and into the trash can. She did the math in her head. If she could just stop, if she could keep herself from admitting she was hungry, then the day wouldn’t be completely lost. Melissa hated feeling hungry. Hunger was hollowness and pain, and she felt herself unable to endure it, unable to control it. But she always felt hungry, and the struggle not to eat, the debate in her mind over what to eat, and the snap when her spirit would rebel and go on a binge to satisfy itself made it even worse. She looked at the clock that read 10:30 a.m. and she knew the battle was over already. She hadn’t even made it to noon.

Easter Bunny

Easter Bunny

Happy Easter!

I had quite a busy day visiting family and sitting in traffic. I hope everyone else out there had lovely Sundays as well.

This past week, I was contacted by Creepy Elliot who asked if he could read some of my fiction in one of his videos on his YouTube channel. That sounded like a wonderful idea, so I readily agreed. You can check out Creepy Elliot’s YouTube channel and his narration of some of my short fiction pieces here:

I also want to take a moment to show everyone the awesome shirt I just received from Terror Threads.


Look at that zombie action. You can check out this shirt and more of their awesome collection here:

And now, without further ado, part 2 of “The Cockroaches Waltz At Midnight.”

Thank you for reading.

With Screams and Axes,



The Cockroaches Waltz at Midnight (Part 2)

Art left his guitar leaning against his desk, and let himself fall onto his bed. He stared up at the slanted wood ceiling and listened to the creaking of the elderly house. Without meaning to, he fell asleep. Art dreamed of the attic. He was on his bed, just as he was. He felt something shaking the metal bed frame, a rumbling from underneath him. Out from under the bed surged thousands of cockroaches, little legs scurrying at super speeds, all hurrying to Art. They covered him completely head to toe, smothering him with their tiny bodies.

Art woke up choking. He coughed and coughed, and finally hacked up a cockroach and spit it out onto the floor. It righted itself quickly and hurried under the bed. Art breathed heavily and put a hand to his throat, as his mind experienced a new depth of disgust. Quickly he lowered himself to the floor, deciding to chase the offending cockroach that had tried to choke him. That roach had to die. Art reached under the bed, but instead of swiping up the cockroach, his hand touched a large round object. Pulling it out from under the bed, Art found himself looking over a strange object he had never seen before.

It was a crudely formed figure of an insect. Its abdomen was made out of a dried dirt clod and wrapped in twine. Its legs and antennae were made of sticks, its wings made of leaves. It smelled of rot and as Art held it, he decided that it had definitely been made in the image of a cockroach. Art wondered how such a thing had found its way under his bed. He wondered if it was some eccentricity of the Stevens. They seemed like they’d be into weirdo folk art.

Art put the cockroach figure on his desk, assuring himself that he’d ask the Stevens about it later, and that he’d also talk to them about hiring an exterminator. But now, Art had to go to work at the gas station.