by Jim Stitzel | Dec 23, 2019 | Stories
It’s been raining for two days straight, and I’m afraid to go out. I’ve seen what those torrents do to people who venture outside. Cascades of water sweep down the street, and the rain itself is dangerous as hell. I have cabin fever. We all do. But...
by Jim Stitzel | Jan 24, 2018 | Stories
I am a dead man walking. That’s not a metaphor, not a promise of a future event the way you usually think of it. I really am dead — and have been for some time now. I walk the streets of this city. I pass by people on the sidewalk, and they instinctively...
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 2, 2017 | Stories
I drag a finger along a wall as I walk around the room. I can feel the grainy surface of drywall and paint. Approaching the corner, my fingertips lift off the surface slightly, pulling further away as I draw closer to the junction of the adjoining wall....
by Jim Stitzel | Feb 25, 2017 | Stories
Grey mist sails past his face, and it is enough to shake him from his reverie. His mind is sluggish, slow, as though he is awakening from a dream. Perhaps he is, but then he has woken into a nightmare. He looks down at his hands, outstretched before him, palms up. His...
by Jim Stitzel | Feb 16, 2017 | Stories
You’ve heard the expression, “Everywhere you go, there you are.” Well, I’ve got a variation for you. “Everywhere I go, there you are.” Frankly, I’m getting tired of it. At first I thought it was just me. You know, how you see...
