The beauty of being a tyrant, the Tyrant thought, was that he wasn’t subject to Judgment. Still, he wanted to know how he might be judged, were he to be judged, so he hired a distinguished commission of Learned Judges for the task.

Short Story - Fiction

Weary, at the end of your day, you enter an evening bus. You attach seamlessly with the rest of flesh in the vehicle. Tch, tch, someone inevitably makes this sound, tch, tch, as you step on that someone’s shoes. Tch, tch, as you crash onto the back ...

Flash Fiction - Fiction

That stuff is poison and you bloody know it. Fuck yourself. But my throat is burning, needs lubrication, so it comes out nervous, a meek cough.

Flash Fiction - Fiction

There is something vibrating under my bed. This is the third night I have felt it, it is unmistakable now. At first I thought it might be the last haze of a dream, where conscious imagination and involuntary reverie meet. But now ....

Flash Fiction - Fiction

Why was I being pushed through the streets handcuffed? And the policeman holding a dagger dripping with blood? What had I done?

Flash Fiction - Fiction