Sibling Rivalry

They were both failures in life.

His brother was the one destined for greatness, until his inner demons and thirst for heroin derailed his ambitions.

For some reason their parents, his brother's girlfriend, their mutual friends, his therapist, they all blamed him for his brother's failures. They never seemed to realize that he was also a victim. He was always being compared to his brother's lofty standards. His success in school, his victories on the baseball field, his general affability.

So yeah, he'd gotten his brother hooked on heroin. But couldn't they see it was actually a cry for help?

Whispers

Caspar would hear the whispers as soon as he closed his eyes. At first they seemed related to his dreams, but gradually they became detached, having nothing to do with his REM cycles.

The whispers were not kind. They commanded him to murder his family. Caspar wanted to ignore them, but as their stridency increased, he eventually relented.

When the police found him covered in blood and surrounded by corpses, Caspar claimed that it was God who was whispering to him. The jury agreed, and he was eventually set free.

You see, God was whispering to the jurors as well.

The Staircase

It was a Sisyphean task. Tom's only job was to clean the staircase leading down the side of the building. Never mind that he lived in Seattle. Or that they were located directly across from the Rodeo and Cattle Auction. Never mind that he never managed to reach one end of the 17-step flight of stairs before someone muddied them up again by walking past.

Never mind all that.

What really bothered Tom was that not once in his 30 years of employment had he ever been named Employee of the Month. It was enough to make a man give up.

The Insult

When Michelle walked into the room, Wayne immediately confronted her. Everyone could agree he was the biggest asshole at the party, so nobody was surprised when he said, "You look like a monkey used finger paint on your cadaver."

Michelle nearly broke into tears and no one would have blamed her. Even for Wayne, the comment was horrible. But Michelle composed herself and spoke loudly enough for everyone at the party to hear. She couldn't find the words to explain the series of events that had led up to it, but she confirmed yes, that was exactly what had happened.

Radioactive Contraband

The space haulers needed two years just to reach the asteroids. In the same way that planes fly over the North Pole because it's more direct, the cargo ships slingshot around planets to save fuel and gain momentum. The biggest danger to the astronauts was monotony.

Captain Ott never complained about his meager salary, though he knew the company made huge profits on the minerals he returned with. Complainers generally never got to fly again. Instead, he took his own share of the uranium and sold it on the black market. The cancer was worth sticking it to his bosses.

True Crime

Davis was a photojournalist, famous for his true crime pictorials depicting all manner of depravities, including gruesome murders and violent assaults. He won Pulitzers and was the only photographer regularly on the best sellers' list.

People were shocked at his arrest, but even more outraged when they learned he was being charged with the crimes. Was he really a psychotic lunatic?

Davis was eventually released. He had not actually committed the crimes. Rather, he knew the people who had and went along to document them. People still believed it a disgrace, but that didn't stop them from buying his books.

A Different Kind Of Prestige

This is a story about two astronauts. At first they work together, but something happens and they become enemies. Each dedicates his career and his entire life to destroying the other. In the end, they both end up the loser.

You could say this story is just like The Prestige, but in outer space. The one astronaut does in fact have a twin brother, who's also an astronaut, but they keep this fact a secret until the end. The other astronaut flies a special space ship built by David Bowie.

They both keep many dead birds in their astronaut suits.

Forever Lost

Her most prized possession, what she cared for more than anything she had ever owned, more than her own person, was forever lost.

All that ever mattered to her was that small trinket, given to her by her dad, with the words, "Treasure it always."

She had been so young when he died, and that keepsake was all she had to remember him by.

Of course, she knew that it was all imagined, that her Dad was still alive, but the fantasy was more important than reality. She wanted this other life, and so she would keep looking for it.

Our Kickstarter Is Now Live!

And now for something that's not so completely different. After a short hiatus to get all the behind the scenes work done, our Kickstarter for Picasso Painted Dinosaurs has finally gone live. What are you waiting for? Go donate now!

So what is Picasso Painted Dinosaurs? It's an e-book collection of Microfiction, 100 100 word stories to be exact. Some stories will be familiar if you are a regular reader here, but the majority are brand new, never before read, exclusive stories that will only be found in this e-book. In addition, the collection includes two essays that I wrote, one on the Art of Microfiction, and another on Finding Daily Inspiration. Most fabulous of all, the collection features original artwork from Mike Simon.

This Kickstarter is something of a test run. We're only asking for $300, enough for us to publish the book across all major e-book platforms, including iBooks, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble. In the future, we'll be launching more ambitious projects, including a multimedia version of my long-gestating novel, Quitting The Grave.

Please donate now. Even the minimum contribution of two dollars will make a difference in us reaching our goal. And even if you don't donate, tell your friends about the project. The most important thing for us at this point is to get the word out.

Thanks.

Too Old To Cry

Jason prided himself on always trying his best. His approach to the SAT was no different. Every night, he memorized 500 vocabulary words. Instead of comic books, he read test prep books in his spare time. He employed a tutor for $100 per hour.

When his latest test scores were returned, he cried to learn that he had scored in the bottom thirtieth percentile. It was the 17th time he'd taken the test. He was 37 years old.

Jason had a hard time accepting that no matter how hard you try at something, sometimes you'll never be good.