by Jim Stitzel | Mar 9, 2010 | Stories
His hood is pulled up, casting his face in shadow. The bus rolls to a stop in front of him, and he steps on board. He ignored the driver’s terse greeting. It’s not like he means it. Years of driving kids to school has turned this ritual into little more than a...
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 5, 2010 | Stories
This entry is part 1 of 5 in the series AvaBeth stood on the knoll and gazed at the broken city some seven miles distant. The voice on the city’s public broadcast system was audible, even from here, but distance diluted it such that it merely caused Beth a mild...
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 3, 2010 | Stories
She swirled her finger in the glass, then lifted it to his mouth. “Just a taste, my lover,” she crooned. He parted his lips, tongue sampling the drop as it fell from her fingertip. “Oh, my god,” he breathed. “Amazing.” He closed his eyes, fell back on the pillows, she...
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 2, 2010 | Stories
“They battled high upon the wall walk, pushing and pulling, slashing with their blades, and slinging spells, neither gaining a foothold over the other.” Read the rest at Blessed on Ficly – A better, shorter story.
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 2, 2010 | Stories
The gate preventing anyone but maintenance workers from reaching the bowels of the sewer system was frozen solid, having rusted in place long ago. Pudge pushed his way through, anyhow, the space being just wide enough to admit entry to his overweight frame. His...
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 2, 2010 | Stories
The bag of chips was all but empty, just a few crumbs left in the bottom. He shook the bag, bouncing it in his hand, so that the niblets would fall together in the corner. There were so few left – and he wasn’t one to waste anything – so he tilted the bag to look...
