24-Hour News Cycle of Violence

Note: This short fiction piece was originally published in Behemoth Magazine. No AI was used in the writing of this short story.


Monday, 10:04 AM
Bob rearranged the foil candy wrappers into a neat stack on his desk for the second time. On his computer monitor, an AI chatbot wrote an email response that Bob would copy and paste into a draft saved in his inbox. When the script finished, Bob quickly scanned the text for any glaring errors, then pasted it into an email draft with the subject line: Please upload this to CMS. When Bob clicked send, the email fired off halfway around the world to an ever-expanding part-time office in the Philippines. 

After confirming that the email was sent, Bob pulled out his smartphone and scrolled social media. A sweating man with a bulging vein ranted about a kids movie at the top of his feed. Beneath that, Bob’s aunt posted an awkward photo of her standing in front of a mirror at the gym. This was followed by an inflammatory article about the potential risks tortilla chips pose for dental health. Bob opened his camera, switched to selfie mode, and rooted around in his mouth with an unwashed index finger. His yellow, coffee-stained teeth looked the same as they did six months ago, and his gums also appeared unchanged since he last rubbed a grimy finger over them. 

Satisfied, Bob opened the drawer on his office desk and rummaged through a sea of empty chip bags. His hand returned empty. Looking to the left, then the right, Bob stood up from his worn office chair. The smell of ass sweat wafted from the seat, and Bob carefully slid his legs out in order to air out. On the TV across the room, a ticker tape ran below the newsfeed that read: Both candidates call for cooler political rhetoric and national unity. 

Bob stretched his arms over his head, gave his bulbous-eyed, blonde colleague with the gopher teeth a nod, and then followed the sewer brown carpet toward the front of the office. Most of the cubes stood empty, faded memories of coworkers whose jobs had been shipped overseas. A crinkled agenda lingered here. A pink motivational post-it note still stood firmly there. 

“I want a donut,” Bob announced to no one in particular. 

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Whatever You Need It To Be

When I was a little guy, I was both mischievous and an ardent rule-follower. That sounds like an oxymoron, but there’s truth in it. I enjoyed bending or breaking rules when I found a way to circumvent them. I’d stay up late on a school night reading or playing video games, then steal back some lost sleep with micro naps in class. When Star Wars: Episode III — The Revenge of the Sith premiered in 2005, I cut class with a few friends, and we spent the afternoon at the movie theater. This was far from the only time I flaked on important opportunities in lieu of fun, and as I grew, I found creative ways to skirt the “way things are supposed to be” for mischief. 

At the same time, I was strict about which principles or rules I followed. Because storytelling was so important to me at a young age, I was a devout believer that there was an order to art and creativity, that there were laws that weren’t supposed to be broken. Vampires were warded off by garlic and avoided sunlight for fear of death. Silver bullets were the main method of dealing with werewolves. That sort of thing. 

It sounds silly to think of myself as a child who was comfortable with skirting social expectations and norms but consumed books, movies, and comics with such rigidity. But this is also something that’s so very human. It’s a dichotomy we all carry with us in one way or another. 

Eventually, I dropped the rigidity when it came to art and creativity. It came about in the most unexpected way. I watched a vampire flick called Innocent Blood, wherein an empathetic “good” vampire had to slay nefarious mobster vampires who were turning New York City into their playground. She did so with a gun, and the “bad” vampires were killed by destroying their brains. As much as it was fun, my brain couldn’t process rules normally reserved for ghouls or the living dead being applied to vampires here—two distinctly different monster types. 

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Don’t Want to Support Bezos? No Problem

We live in strange, frightening times. Many of our most vulnerable populations are at risk simply because they ask for the right to exist. Assistance programs, resources, and educational assets like museums, libraries, and cultural centers are on the chopping block. What many of us consider “civilization” is teetering over the edge, plunging us into a warped reality that’s being advertised to us as “greatness.”

We write our representatives. We help each other out. We rebel in small ways, including where we decide to vote with our dollars. In the indie publishing/writing community, many readers and fellow creatives have decided to stand their ground and choose NOT to shop at Amazon. I consider myself among them.

This seemingly simple protest vote has been effective, it would seem, especially when it comes at a time when tariffs are applied and revised inconsistently. As I write this, Amazon has been declining since early February, and it’s lower than it’s ever been year-to-date.

As more readers hold strong, choosing to shop directly from businesses instead of a marketplace platform, having an ebook on Kindle becomes more challenging.

Luckily, a reader of mine turned me onto a platform called Itch.io. It’s geared toward younger readers, gamers, and niche communities, but it’s also home to a thriving ebook author community.

I’ve since added my novel, MACHINE: A Cybernetic Fairytale, to the platform. Because I make more with each purchase on Itch.io, I’ve also lowered the price on this platform. What was $8.99 on Amazon is now a cool, easy-breezy $4.99 on Itch.io. It’s never been a better time to check out the first in a new series of mine.

If you are unable to purchase my ebook and still want to show your support, considering sharing the link. For those who have read it, any and all reviews and feedback are welcome. Even if you hate it.

Short Story: “We’ve Come A Long Way”

Note: This is a republication of a short story of mine that was originally published on Medium. Though more horror-inspired, I’m particularly fond of this piece, as I think it deals with some themes and ideas that have always and will continue to haunt us unless we learn to change our collective mindset and approach to the world around us.

“We’ve come a long way,” Dr. Vannevar said, his beady, sunken eyes fixated on the untamed bringer of war just beyond the viewport. 

Iris didn’t turn her head to look at him, but she could picture Vannevar stroking his little gray beard as he spoke. It was his way of breaking the silence between them, disrupting the descent as their five-person crew approached Mars. Vannevar liked to hear himself talk, so he often made broad observations with an air of scientific inquiry and pretentiousness. Iris wondered if this was how Vannevar talked his way onto this mission, if his sweeping generalizations impressed the executives back home. He certainly hadn’t added anything to the crew since he had come aboard, and Iris wasn’t even sure of what he held a doctorate in. 

As the finer details of Mars grew more pronounced, Iris searched its charmless surface. She wanted to size up the red menace, stare it down as fear settled into her stomach over what, if anything, they would find on the planet. Much like Vannevar’s pedigree, Mars was one giant question mark.  

Members of the Demeter-6 mission were only the second group of scientists (read: “pioneers”) to colonize the planet. The first crew, Demeter-5, had been on Mars for two years now. As of the moment, Demeter-5’s mission status was unknown. Contact had not been made, nor had a signal of any kind been picked up on Demeter-6’s long voyage. For all the crew of Demeter-6 knew, the original colony could have vanished in Mars’ tumultuous desert storms.  

“We’ve come a long way,” Vannevar repeated, this time louder. “From tribal warfare, cannibalism, disease… to this.” 

Iris felt Vannevar’s eyes on her. His hunter’s gaze unsettled her, as if behind the aloof, broadstroke of a personality lie something sinister and predatory. A snake in the grass. Something wriggled beneath her skin, and she hurried to come up with a response that would satisfy Vannevar’s hungry, attention-seeking stare.

“Yes,” Iris said, tugging at the sleeves of her lab coat and hiding beneath loose strands of her wavy, brown hair.

Satiated by her response, Vannevar swiveled his head back toward the viewport. His mouth opened to speak again when a voice erupted through the ship’s intercom.

“We’ve picked up a signal. All crew report to the central command.”

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New Short Story: Night Sky

It’s been a minute since my last update. I’ve had a busy couple of months over at TheBatmanUniverse.net and at work. As always, I’m continuously carving out time to work on my comic series and that next novel.

That said, a new short story of mine was just published this past month over at Drunk Monkeys. It’s called “Night Sky,” and it’s one of my personal favorite sci-fi pieces that I’ve written. I won’t gab too much, but I hope it is enjoyable and means as much to you as it does to me. In some ways, I feel like it’s something we can all relate to.

Read “Night Sky” here.

And don’t forget to check out the rest of the June Drunk Monkeys issue here. There’s a stellar lineup of writers, poets, and artists.

In other news, I’ve been busy with TheBatmanUniverse podcast. A couple of months ago, I interviewed The Carver Twins about their roles in The Batman, and this past month, I invited Pat Grimes of Wires Don’t Talk on to talk about the music of The Batman. As always, I continue to cohost the regular podcast, but these two featured episodes are part of a larger initiative to branch out and interview more creators involved with creating Batman comics, movies, etc.

As always, if you want to hear more of what I’m about to, I do have a monthly newsletter, and the new issue should be dropping in the next couple of days. Check out the last issue, and consider subscribing (it’s free).