by Jim Stitzel | Oct 30, 2015 | Stories
I can tell the Wellbutrin is doing its job. This is the third individual item I’ve written in as many days, which I think may very well be more than I’ve written in the last year. I also have story ideas spilling out my ears, which is also something that...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 11, 2013 | Stories
It is a wondrous thing to hear your child’s heart beat for the first time. All those long hours of laboring and toiling over a workbench, all those days and weeks of tenderly, gingerly nudging gears and springs and cogs into place. All those blisters and burns and...
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 30, 2010 | Stories
This entry is part 1 of 3 in the series GolemRain lashed down on that ravaged plain in furious sheets. The broken earth drank it up through ragged cracks that went down forever. At the center of the plain, a gaping maw of a hole sucked down water in great, sodden...
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 24, 2010 | Stories
The albino stood on the platform and dragged the knife down his forearm. Blood ran in scarlet rivulets over his hand, his fingers. It dripped the sidereal pattern of his god onto the wooden planks around his feet. Before him the air shimmered as it struggled to call...
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 17, 2010 | Stories
Claire found the hat half under a bush, half out. It was the sort of hat one might wear while working in the garden — woven straw and wide-brimmed. Claire turned the hat in her hands. The top had been torn out, leaving ragged edges and a large hole. She flipped the...
