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 10, 2010 | Stories
I shamelessly stole the name of the monster in this story from China Mieville’s main character in Perdido Street Station. Sorry about that, China — and thanks. ‘Grimnebulin’ is just a really kick-ass word....
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
Beth 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 headache. Had she been within the city proper,...
by Jim Stitzel | Mar 2, 2010 | Stories
“What do you think’s in there, Rob?” “No idea, Finn. Juice, most likely.” “Juice?” “Sure, you know, electricity. Stuff’ll juice you, sure as I’m standing here, if you touch it. Knock you flat, leave your hair all sparkly and curled and smelling like something that...
