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.

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 Doll

Eggshell white paint, which somebody had applied carelessly in short, haphazard strokes, covered the doll’s face, and the streaks of rouge on each cheek could not prevent it from looking utterly pallid. Its stringy black hair formed a cowlick in the back of its head, and its tattered, muddy clothes looked like they might disintegrate if touched. The worst part was its eyes — spaced slightly further than expected from the center; the bright blue pupils were set on bulging wooden balls, conveying an uncannily real earnestness. He seemed coiled up, trying to break free and lunge at me.