by Jim Stitzel | Dec 22, 2013 | Stories
She had a cough. Deep. Wet. Ragged. They called it the creeping cough. Non-communicable to humans. Supposedly. And yet here she had it, and it was taking over her body. Already, fingers of the black fungus were reaching out from the corners of her mouth, which meant...
by Jim Stitzel | Oct 10, 2013 | Stories
This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series The Ruin of ShorelockeEifan withdraws his hand, shaking his head. “No,” he says. “This is neither the time nor the place to delve into such remembrances.” He reaches instead into the satchel slung at his side, rummaging through...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 29, 2013 | Stories
This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series The Ruin of ShorelockeHe inspects the orb without picking it up. He can feel the memories radiating off the thing already, and he is not ready to delve into them just yet. Unlike nearly everything else in the room, not one mote...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 13, 2013 | Stories
She accosted him on the sidewalk, as he was loading the last of his gear into the truck. He had just come from a client’s house, the last job of the day. He was loading his backpack sprayer when she slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. She was...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 12, 2013 | Stories
She leans against the sink and stares at the message scrawled in the dust on the mirror. Thank god it’s just dust this time, and not blood. Her arms and thighs are criss-crossed with the scissored scars of past blood-lettings. She breathes deeply, heavily, though...
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...
