Tag Archives: shortstory
In honor of the imminent flood and Rapture, I recorded my short story Books on Tape on tape. Enjoy! Books On Tape (On Tape)
The Ant Eater started eating whole colonies at once. It was worrying. The Walrus of course was hardly the person to comment on someone’s recent weight gain so he kept it to himself. The Alligator wanted to eat him. Because … Continue reading
Books on Tape Jason Royal Hart You have stolen a book on tape, and you get in your bath to listen to it. I’m stuck at the post office. The book is about a dark elf. The candles around you … Continue reading
Part One. Part Two. Now a torrent begins outside. Tin can hail falls. I run to the bedroom. My tractionless shoes slide and I fall. The window blares plasmic water. Everything is wet. I fall. I slide to the window … Continue reading
Part One. He comes to build of the world an ordered monarchy. You will be the Knight-Duke of Massachusettes. And when the little men are in ordered pens, he will drown them until the world is naught but dead Dukes. … Continue reading
I’m blogging this here story I’m writing, right here. It’s raw, unedited and hot like an elephant’s heart. The thing about these witches is that they’re all tiny dictators. Sure, in their little cages, flying in space, there’s no limit … Continue reading
At around three A.M. we started building. We had the wheels and gearshifts from a dozen bikes, a whole spool of gauge six wire, and the pointless determination of the casually mad.
It sat in the middle of Jonny’s bedroom. We’d pushed his mattress up against one wall and carefully moved each of his army of terra cotta peace activists to the kitchen. A single bulb hung there, casting a Gandhi-shaped shadow into the room.
I sat down and began to pedal. It was fast at first, but as the wire wound around the spool, the strain on my legs became intense. It felt like the first time I had biked to the top of Holy Hill, back when I had just quit smoking and was out of shape. Hanna aimed the harpoon and took stock of the wind. Jonny stood, salivating, wrapped in a parachute we’d reclaimed from the dump.
“Let go, Jonas!” Hanna shouted, and I dove off the seat.
Third Coast Digest published my short story “The Smell of Fresh Water“.