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RSSThe goddess of love lives in a loft apartment, on West 81st. She is tall, but never taller than her lovers. Her back is supple and muscular, but her bones do not show through her skin. Her hair is always a different colour, but nobody ever seems to notice. Her face is not marred by excessive beauty.
Short Fiction
Tales from the Revolution, Chapter 1
This is a story about the end of the world.
This particular end of the world isn't a great one, as ends of the world go. It's not quite up to the standards of a 10th-Century Biblical Armageddon, or a 20th-Century Nuclear holocaust. We will not be snuffed by fire this time. This time, we are the fire.
Throw Out Your Dead
When he stepped out to get the morning paper, Harry found a dead body lying in the middle of the lawn...
Spare Change
The mugger stood in the shadow of a doorway, his arms clinched tightly about himself...
The Courage to Fall
Lily invited me to her wedding while we lay naked on the couch, our heads resting against opposite armrests...
Unleashed
Lately I've been overcome with apathy, and I'm having difficulty understanding it...
A Prayer for the Insect Gods
The bug attacked while they were cruising down the alleys behind the auto wreckers in the warehouse district. It was a big one, maybe thirty kilos, and it was fast. It came charging out of the dumpster where it was foraging and went straight for the rear tires.
Manifest
Things that mobu likes, things that mobu does, things that mobu makes, things that mobu thinks.