by Jim Stitzel | Sep 21, 2024 | Stories
The crow talks to me. It sits on the road sign, with its black eyes, its black beak, and its black feathers, and it speaks to me. I don’t understand the words — they’re in bird, of course. But the words come, all the same. They take up space inside my mind,...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 19, 2024 | Stories
The lingering pain. It’s all I can think about. It dwells in my consciousness like an open wound, even though there is no injury to be found. It’s like fire in my flesh, a deep, crippling fury that makes me lose my sanity at times. I never should have made...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 18, 2024 | Stories
My toilet bowl is a portal to another dimension. Ask me how I know this. Great! I’m glad you asked. You know how I know it’s a portal? It swirls when I flush it, and I’m not just talking about the water. That swirls, too. No, when I flush, there is...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 13, 2024 | Stories
They dangle from the eaves and make beautiful music in the wind. Long, slender bits of metal jangling against each other. They are tied to the bottom of a dreamcatcher, twirling and dancing and spinning. And the music they produce — such a thing has never been...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 12, 2024 | Stories
The tunnel was the only way out. And it was guarded by enormous… squirrels? These mutated little fuckers were the size of small dogs with long, sharp teeth and razor claws. Where they came from we don’t know, but suddenly the trees were full of them, and...