millerwiller

Short Story: “The Onion Boy”

The Onion Boy does not sleep, for night is the time he furtively toils, collecting and consuming dreams. His appetite is never satisfied. He moves on to the next sleeping victim with the prior still weighing freshly in his stomach — for he is sure they will be digested in time for his next meal.

Blog: “The Onion Boy”

I must have been twelve or thirteen when I first got a cell phone, and little did I know it would usher a brave new world of kaleidoscopic modern horrors into my life. No, I’m not talking about the nearly all-consuming screen addiction I’ve developed, as my phone has become more like an appendage rather than an appliance. That’s a topic for another day. Today, I’m talking about spooky chain text messages. You know, texts you’d get from a friend like, “Send this to ten friends or get visited tonight by the ghost of a precocious and murderous little girl!1!!1!!!!”

Announcement Re: “CAPTCHA”

420 words, ~1.5 minute read time. The accompanying short story is hyperlinked here. I have been reading an essay collection by E.B. White, and one quote has stuck with me: “I do feel a responsibility to society because of going into print: a writer has the duty to be good, not lousy; true, not false;Continue reading “Announcement Re: “CAPTCHA””

CAPTCHA

4,900 words, ~20-minute read time. The accompanying blog post is linked here. Bright red text flashed on the screen: “Fatal Error: Your password and/or CAPTCHA is incorrect.“ I gritted my teeth. My neck muscles tensed. An unhelpful pop-up appeared with this definition: “CAPTCHA stands for ‘Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and HumansContinue reading “CAPTCHA”

The Lonely Wolf

The first scant glimmers of the full moon seeped through the cloud coverage, and Max started to feel the transformation begin its infernal machinations inside him. He took a deep breath and stood, ready to change, when he heard a beautiful, lilting voice beckon from behind him.

Wrung Out

She is just starting to fill up her inanely large insulated tumbler, which reads “Cla$$y, Sa$$y, and a Bit Smart A$$y” in vulgar, cursive script and has a little Minion with a smug grin under it. The cooler filter isn’t changed regularly, so I’ll be subjected to Sherri’s babbling for at least another minute while her cup is filled drip by drip with PFA-laden tap water.

The Last Blue Light

Don’t let this opportunity pass you by! Be the next one on your block to get everlasting life by having your ConsciouSWAP done today! Our patented, state-of-the-art technology will carefully extract and place your consciousness into a new, immortal body. Our team of dedicated experts will then dispose of your body. And the best part? It’s all free!

The Ghost Train

I waited on the bench at the train stop, surrounded by fog and darkness, a street lamp lighting me like a little yellow island in a vast dark sea. I had nowhere to be and nothing to do because I was dead. The vehicle on which I waited had no destination or schedule, for theContinue reading “The Ghost Train”

The Consuming Tree

I never understood my mother’s dread of the woods until this Christmas. Winter has always been my favorite time of the year, and I consider myself somewhat of an expert at “decking the halls.” Since I was a kid, I would wake up early on Black Friday to string garlands, hang lights, and meticulously arrangeContinue reading “The Consuming Tree”

The Beast of Banalore

Everything felt alien to me as I gripped the railing on the swaying deck of the USS Dashiell. I fought waves of nausea and tried to concentrate on the chatter of the crewmembers filling the salty ocean air. Several weeks ago, I departed from Charleston, South Carolina, my home, which now only existed in the pristine confines of my memory. I was entering a new world, the unfamiliar island nation of Banalore, with a single objective: to find and document The Beast.