Upon The Ground: Progress

Well, this is it. The last story from my collection Upon The Ground. It is a stream-of-consciousness literary piece entitled “Progress.” I am pretty proud of it, and if you have been reading the collection, it ties in quite a few of the other stories as well (Not that you need to know that to enjoy the story).

Here is the beginning of the piece:


…death sneaks in like a viper slithering in the mud of existence aching for some flesh to bite into, reeling it’s way into your body, up and up past your slowing heart past your feeling lungs, your paling face and eating into your brain. it takes your memories and sinks you into it’s life. oh god, i’m dying. i can see it in her eyes. she has beautiful EYES. they are so blue. i’m looking up at her and trying to smile. she is holding my hand, so sweaty. she is trying to talk to me…. shhh….. shhh…. her lips are shaking. why is everything white? is this a hospital? i’ve never been to a hospital before. ironic that the one time i go to a house of healing is to die. i’m dying. i felt fine yesterday. such a wonderful day yesterday. all my family was there and i cooked outside. the sun was a bright red and i held her close to me. such a perfect day.  the sky was colored with red, purple and blue as the sun set and her skin felt so soft. it slipped away so fast. so, so very fast. death is not a fair creature. it is hungry only, fangs glistening. i can feel it taking my body. i feel so weak. i can barely keep my eyes open. i want to look at her. i want to see her. fight this. you can fight this. you’ve fought so much. you’re better than this. you want to live. i want to live. i can fight this. she looks at me concerned. she can see the pain in my face. i need the pain. i need to stay. the pain is what make me mortal. the pain is what makes us mortal.

I want to thank GreenSpotBlue for choosing my book to share with their readers. Their support for my writing has always meant a lot to me. If you would like to check out the book, the link are up at the Upon The Ground page on this site. Thank you for reading!

Upon The Ground: Under The Angelic Glow Of Dusk

Today is the penultimate short story from my collection Upon The Ground, which is being shared online via www.greenspotblue.com. Today’s story is entitled “Under The Angelic Glow Of Dusk.” Take from it what you will.

Here is the beginning of this little strange tale:

“Under The Angelic Glow Of Dusk”

“The Time has been catching us off guard,” she said to me and I, still reeling from the wind and the parties, only laughed at her notion and called her mind a good hangover waiting to happen.

She did not like my comments (typical) and shunned me for the first two days of our assignment. This probably wouldn’t have bothered me so much if we weren’t supposed to be wife and husband in this little life moment. On Friday, I got sick of her little games and in a dark corner in a dark moment after breakfast (which consisted of coffee or tea (decaffeinated), corn flakes (dry), and milk (cold).) I confronted her about the so-called importance of our assignment.

As she angrily argued back at me her wings rustled under her silly white dress. She hated me.

I laughed at that and reminded her small mind that she wasn’t capable of hate. Her and her little angels and their white hair and white eyes and white gleaming teeth never hate- Even those easy to. She then said it may not be hate but it was the closest she had felt to it. I had to laugh at her honesty, even though just the sound of her voice annoyed me.

She then stated that she was very sure she hated the sound of my laughter (it is a dark loud, booming laugh that echoes with screams of those inside) and then went and compared it to angry bells banging against the side of her ears. All the noises of lost times.

You can read the rest of the story here. You can also catch up on the previous stories from Upon The Ground via the links on this page. Thank you for reading!

Upon The Ground: The WOMB Story

The twelfth story from my collection Upon The Ground is up at www.greenspotblue.com.  It is called “The WOMB Story.” On a side note, part of this was inspired by something Ray Bradbury said about his memory.  I’ll just leave it at that.

Here is a snippet from the beginning of the story:

“The WOMB Story”

I can recall EVERYTHING.

I remember being three and chasing clouds with my dog and being one and being rocked to sleep by my mom (“Hush little baby don’t say a word. Momma’s gonna buy you….”), but, more amazingly, I can remember being in the womb. I remember it because it was the safest I had ever felt in my life.

It was warm.

My mom’s heart was always there and I could feel connected to it (Thump. Thump. Thump.). I was connected to nature. Life in its purest moment. I could feel hands touching the stomach. I remember kicking and the taste of my thumb and the cord and the echoes of the voices outside laughing and talking.

Those memories are what warp my dreams today.

I can’t tell my wife. She won’t understand…. Well, she will claim to understand, but she won’t. It was my wild imagination that attracted her to me in the first place. She’s a Kindergarten teacher (“You’re like a grown child.” “How am I supposed to take that?” “As a compliment. You treat everything as a new experience. I love to watch your eyes.”).

You can read the rest of the story here. And in the Upon The Ground page you can find links to the other stories already from the collection. Thanks for reading!

Upon The Ground: Jake’s Amazing Talent

The eighth short story from my collection Upon The Ground is available for your reading pleasure at greenspotblue.com (here). You can catch up on the previous short stories via the links on the Upon The Ground page.

Today’s story a surreal black comedy called “Jake’s Amazing Talent.” Here is a bit of the beginning of the work:

“Jake’s Amazing Talent”

The last thing Jake expected to be when he woke up on Monday was dead.

“Not today,” Jake moaned. Jake Hawkins was an ad consultant for a large grocery store corporation. He was born into the job. His father started the corporation over thirty years ago. Jake was raised with the notion that this great business would be his as soon as his father kicked the bucket. So patiently Jake grew up, waiting. Never did another thought enter his head other than the idea of owning this large moneymaking business.

But now that would never happen because Jake Hawkins, age twenty-eight, was dead. He sat up in his bed, yawned, and thought about this some more. His arm itched so he scratched it. Jake collapsed back down on his bed. “Oh, why today,” he moaned again. “Why did I have to die today?”

Today he was supposed to propose a new ad campaign to the board (He was calling it “Eat to Live.”). His father hoped that his presentation would show his strength to the members so they would not worry when he inherited the stores. But that was all too late.

“I’m dead…. I’m dead…. I’m dead….” He kept mumbling it to himself. It felt so weird to say it. The idea of death was just something Jake never pictured happening to him. He was always raised with the notion that he was somewhat greater than normal people. He was the heir to the great business king and his veins flowed with blue blood…. Or better yet, had flowed with green money-like blood.

He was dead.

You can read the rest of the story here. I hope you like it.

Upon The Ground: Rise Up And Kiss The Wind

It is Tuesday and GreenSpotBlue.com is sharing another short story from my collection Upon The Ground. Today is the story, “Rise Up And Kiss The Wind.”

Here is the beginning from the story (here):

“Rise Up And Kiss The Wind”

He was back. Again.

And even though he returned once every five years something was final about this one. He knew it would be his last visit.

The old man could tell he was not long for this world. It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t in the greatest health. He was in fine health and people in his family were known for long lives. It was a mental struggle. He no longer wanted to live. He was ready to shake off the mortal coils and move on.

And this was the place he was going to die.

It was perfect.

It was beautiful and serene.

It was more than just a cottage near the beach; it was part of his life. It was part of his being. It was the place where his life changed and led him to this destiny.

It was the place where his wife died.

Many people in the area have theories of why he always returned. He even heard two little boys yesterday call him “Old Man Death” when he was visiting his wife’s grave. But when he turned around to see the children, they were gone.  It’s amazing how cruel people can be when they don’t know what they are talking about.

You can read the rest of the story here. I hope you enjoy it.

Upon The Ground: Breathing Lessons

A new short story from my collection Upon The Ground is available via the literary Web site, Green Spot Blue. This is the sixth story from the collection (You can read the other stories via the links on the Upon The Ground page on this site).

This week’s story is entitled “Breathing Lessons.” You can read it here. Here is an excerpt from the beginning of the story.

“Breathing Lessons”

She has asthma. And sometimes it could get really bad. Especially when she was very nervous and scared. When she was a little girl, bullies would tease her because of it. They would watch her face turn blue and laugh when she started making wheezing noises through her throat. Then she would start to hyperventilate and once she even passed out from the excitement. She remembers waking up later in the nurses’ office with a cold rag held to her head.

But all that was so long ago and now it was very rare when it would get that bad. The last experience she had with it that bad was during her wedding. She remembers vividly the old feelings running through her mind as she tried to keep standing on her feet.  “Try to keep calm. You’ll be fine,” she said in her mind throughout the ceremony. She could feel the attention bearing down on her. His hand reached out at just the right moment….

“He did this to me,” Stacy said as she rubbed her enlarged stomach. “This is all his fault.”

She sighed. That was a lie. She wanted to have the child. He felt it was too soon, but he didn’t argue the point. So really it wasn’t all his fault. It was her decision. Well, it was her choice. She just forgot to worry about the pain aspect of it and what that would do to her nerves.

“I have too much time to think,” she said to herself. Her doctor ordered her to stay in bed (she felt something that didn’t feel right) and she had as many days as it would take of not moving to look forward.

You can check out the rest of the story here. Thank you for reading!

Upon The Ground: In Wonderland

A new short story from my collection, Upon The Ground, is up on Green Spot Blue (You can always catch up on previous short stories from the work via the Upon The Ground page above).  This story (here) is entitled “In Wonderland.”  Here is a snippet from the beginning…

“In Wonderland”

A Beginning

The theme for freshman week was “Alice in Wonderland.” So the halls and the rooms and the campus were covered with copies of the drawings from the Lewis Carroll books. Events were planned around the stories from “Meet Your Dorm” card games night to a live chessboard on Saturday for the amusement of the first parents’ weekend.

Alan Milne was proud to be the first one to tear down one of the ridiculous signs (It looked like nothing more than a bad photocopy of a page anyway). He stuffed it into his coat pocket, picked his bags back up and headed for his dorm room.

Milton Thinks

Ugh, another normal mortal. He will breath my air and make everything complacent. He gawks at my black suit and black coat and tries to see behind my sunglasses. God, let them be a mystery, commoner! But question me. Learn to accept the immortal that stands before you.

I am art.

“So what’s your major going to be?” The mortal asks me awkwardly. He’s trying to have a conversation with me. How cute! How quaint! Makes me feel like having a glass of milk and watching a sitcom.

“I’m a poet, my major is life,” I say with a scowl. I love the sound of my voice. It rings through the air like the clearest bells.

“So you write poems?”

“No I write a poem.”

You can read the rest of the story here… And by the way, if you like this story and my other writing, why not check out my amazon.com page (here). You can find my novels My Problem With Doors and Megan there for your reading pleasure.

Thanks for reading!

Upon The Ground: The Duck

This week’s short story from my collection Upon The Ground is up at GreenSpotBlue (Here). This time it is a comedy entitled “The Duck.”

Here is the beginning of the story:

“The Duck”

“Do you know what that is?” The Interviewer asked in his deep, rough, slow voice. He pointed at an object on his desk. I didn’t have the slightest idea what it was. Whatever it was it was bloody and very disgusting. I quickly thought back to all my classes on job placement and interviews. No… No… No…. None of them said anything about bloody objects. The only experience I had in college with bloody objects was when I dissected that frog in Biology 101, but that wouldn’t come back to haunt me now (would it?). I decided to be honest with the interviewer. “No, sir, I don’t.”

“That is my spleen,” he said. He sounded very proud.

“Why, that’s nice.” I made a mental note that this man had no spleen in his body. It sounded important at the time.

“So can you figure out why I have my spleen on display?”

My mind frantically jumped from thought to thought. Can there truly be a good answer for why a person has their spleen removed and placed on their desk? I decided to go with the honest answer. “No, I don’t, sir.”

By the look of disappointment on his face, I instantly knew I had given the wrong response. “Because,” he said making sure to emphasis every syllable. “I want my clients to know that I am hiding nothing from them.” He waved his hands in front of his suit. “This is what I have on the outside.” He pointed at the spleen. “And this is what I have inside.”  He made sure to make eye contact with me. “I am an open book.”

If you would like to read the rest of the story, please visit GreenSpotBlue here.

Thanks for reading!

Five Things I Am Into Right Now, April 2012

I feel like over the last month, I have been doing nothing but battle a cold that will. not. stop.

It has gone from my body into my soul.

Was there a time when I was able to complete a sentence without a cough? Did I ever not sneeze? I can honestly say I don’t know. So as you can imagine, my list this month involves a lot of things I can sit down and enjoy… Right now I like sitting.

Mad Men

It’s fascinating how this show has adapted over the years.  What began as somewhat a mystery around the identity of Don Draper (and who would find out and then what???), has now become almost nothing more than a character study as we watch time pass in their lives. (Dare I call it a soap opera?)  I’m not sure if the lack of suspense or overall plot development is related to some larger vision the creator has for the season that he hasn’t shared yet, or a repercussion of the series being picked up for more seasons; in other words he has to pull his punches because he has to drag it out (The same problem you see every week with How I Met Your Mother– those poor kids listening to that non-ending story! I love a good yarn, but I would have even walked out on the story by now).

Still I am really glad the show is back on the air and it is fun visiting the characters again. I just wish something big would drive it forward. Continue reading

Upon The Ground: Crash

Today, Green Spot Blue is sharing the second story from my short story collection, Upon The Ground. It is entitled “Crash” and can be found on their site via this link.

Here is a sample from the beginning of the story.


I was riding my mountain bike to class & it was Fall & the leaves were all over the lawns & the cars & the roads & while I rode down the hill the leaves would fly up behind me like a shower & I was late for class & I was 21 & I was single & I was wondering what was the point of my life BECAUSE all I did was spend my life reading great people’s work & I did nothing & nothing & nothing & I felt alone & when the leaves flew high behind me & my mind saw the sun peeking from behind a tree & a beam seemed to shine down on me & my empty feeling left me & I rode faster & faster & as I did my depression & my lack of satisfaction & emptiness left & I felt alive as the beam &  the hill carried me away on the leaves & I felt illuminated & I felt free….

Truly free….

I took a sharp right and turned my bike on to Fuller Street. I was a quarter of a mile away and I would have only been thirty minutes late if-

-That was when her car took an illegal turn and sideswiped me.

You can read the rest of the story here. I hope you like it.