Latest short stories

Four days out and running low on water, but he didn't care. He stopped at the crest of the hill to catch his breath. It was full dark, but his eyes adjusted to the low light and gained a new sensitivity to the stars and constellations above. It didn't take long for the body to shake-off the city, just a few days to return to natural rhythms. Like it was trying to escape the whole time.

"Ale's going off," he shouted into space across the empty inn. Beric swilled the last mouthful. There was a sickly sweet taste to it, and it was flat, almost syrupy.
Alinor didn't look down from her work. "You're still drinking it."
"That says more about me than it does the ale.”

$18,000 per catch. Less if they're incomplete. Nothing if the head comes off, for obvious reasons. $18,000. More money than most people earn in a year, and all being well, we can earn it in a single day.

The riots were three blocks over and the power was cutting in and out, so she packed her camping gear and drove hard and fast out of the valley, leaving the smog and concrete behind.

In this line of work, you think about death every day. You have to. You sign the waivers and the non-disclosures, you take out the insurance policies and attend the procedural briefings. Every day is another opportunity to die. The risk is high. We signed on for this.

They watched the kid dig with manic intensity. The pile of dirt next to him had grown to maybe half his height. Some of the soil would tumble back into the hole with every frantic shovelful. The kid didn't care.