Tag Archive: Works By Eric

A Dream of Impossible People 002 (FICTION)

October 28, 2023 0 Comments

read part 1 Sometimes when he slept, he would half wake. A menace would hang in the air. Something would be in the room with him, just on the edges of his vision, smeared into the shadows and watching him with burning eyes. He’d try to scream but couldn’t. He first saw one when he was 11 or 12. His eyes eased opening after a night awake wondering why it felt so strange to lay on your stomach. Just outside his bedroom door, a skeleton. Not a collection of bones strung together like you’d find in a classroom. No, this was a being. A thing. A malevolent entity. It watched him sleep. Observed him. Waited for its moment to do … what? He tried to…
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Works by Eric, Writing

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A Dream of Impossible People 001 (FICTION)

October 27, 2023 0 Comments

He didn’t often shave. When he did, the mirror twisted and cracked, his face split between the shards, each of those infinite reflections thinking of infinite ways to die and why he was frightened by, and drawn to, each one of those endings. Instead, he drank coffee with no caffeine, because caffeine was just a rush of heartbeats and regrets, inky black, like so many nights caught in the grip of sleep paralysis, but in liquid form. From there, it was the choice: clean or unclean. Most days he was unclean. This suited him. Let the cover be the book. Let the book dictate the cover. And aren’t we all merely books made flesh? On this day it was no shave, coffee that did not…
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Works by Eric, Writing

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14 Seconds: Short Fiction

June 22, 2021 1 Comment

14 seconds of oxygen left. She pulled at the airlock handle again. It wouldn’t budge. She could feel the heat of the flames behind her and the ringing of the damned klaxon was boring into her skull and the handle wouldn’t budge, because of course it wouldn’t, and the klaxon wouldn’t shup up. 13 seconds of oxygen left. When she was 12, she wanted to ride horses. She knew it was a cliché even then, but it didn’t deter her. She wasn’t the princess type, she didn’t dream of elegant gowns and fancy ballrooms and Prince Charmings, but horses? Absolutely. The more horses the better. Not riding side saddle with a stiff back and “proper” air, though. That wasn’t her. She wanted to ride horses…
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Works by Eric, Writing

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The Girl and the Dog: Fiction Fragment

June 11, 2021 0 Comments

She reached down for the water bottle at her side, remembered it was empty only when she brought to her lips, sighed, and hung her head. “I should have stayed in the city.” She knew she was wrong about that, of course. The city is where it all started. Things were still bad there. And the smell? She didn’t want to think about the smell. But at least she knew what to do in the city. What abandoned stores to search, which apartments had storerooms others might now know about, what neighborhoods were left at least somewhat intact after the Event. She could find something to eat there. Something to drink. A place to sleep. Hell is other people, though, as someone once said. However…
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Works by Eric, Writing

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