Friday, August 28, 2015

Flash Fiction (Story #4)

Grandpa has dementia. He misses grandma. He always loved holding her hand... We found him on his porch swing holding her hand this morning. We have no idea how he got it!!

Flash Fiction (Story #3)

Text message from my older brother, Sam: "My damn flight has been delayed because of this hurricane. I guess I'm going to be spending the night at the airport, so don't worry about picking me up tonight. Love ya bro."
Text message #2: "Dude, do me a favor and let Marie know I'm stuck. She won't answer her phone for some reason. Please explain to her that I'm not doing this to get out of going to her mother's birthday party! LOL. Talk to you in the morning bro."
Text Message #3: "Just wanted to let you know that I'm not alone..."
Frantic call from Sam's wife, Marie: "Sam's plane crashed last night. There... There were no survivors. Air traffic control lost contact with the plane around 10:00PM last night. They said it exploded mid-air at around midnight. Oh my god! Sam is dead!"

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Flash Fiction (Story #2)

     I entered the elevator like I do every morning. The doors closed and I pressed the button for the 4th floor. My routine never changes or wavers. The monotony of riding this elevator to the 4th floor is almost numbing at times. The 2nd floor lights up, as does the 3rd, and on to my destination. There are only 4 floors to my building. I sigh as I stop on the 4th, but then something happened. I see that I haven't stopped. A light flashes as a 5th floor, 6th floor, then 7th, 8th, 9th... What is going on?! I start to panic as I frantically press the stop button. The ceiling lights begin the flicker and this metal box begins to shake violently. I scream as I hear a loud snap, and I feel my feet leaving the floor as I am dropped.
     I close my eyes and brace for the violent impact. Running through my mind was the thought of this freak accident on the evening news. I could see my picture plastered on the TV as the commentators  say "he was in the wrong place at the wrong time", and other stupid clich├ęs. I pictured my funeral and the small turn-out. I thought of my children and even my dog. I was prepared to see whatever there was on the other side of this world.
     The impact never came. The doors opened, and I was on the 4th floor. I stepped out onto the floor, when at that very moment I heard a loud snap. The elevator fell so fast I could feel the breeze from within the shaft. A massive crash shook the building like thunder. Debris and dust bellowed up from the shaft as I watched in amazement. Not today... Not today... I was suddenly thankful for my mundane life.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Flash Fiction (Story #1)

     Crimson glistened on his hand, as the gun fell in slow motion unto the freshly made bed. The small hole oozed a small amount of blood from his right temple, while the left was shattered. The wall was painted with his grey matter and pieces of skull as he lay there; eyes wide open, looking at nothing.
     Hope slowly seeped out of his fractured head like sour molasses. His splattered note professing his torment, agony, and hollow apologies lay open; as his testament to this violent act. The gunshot still echoed in the small room, as the aroma of spilled whiskey and gunpowder hung thick in the air... An eerie silence soon followed as he twitched ever so slightly.
      I have no recollection of how I got here as this feels suspiciously like a dream. I have never dreamt in such vivid detail before, nor have I ever witnessed such a terrifying act. As I walk closer to the unknown victim, I notice his shirt. It is a ragged, green plaid button down. It looks exactly like my favorite shirt. I slowly walk closer as the horrible reality pours over me like a warm waterfall. His eyes... His cold, starring eyes... They were... Mine!

* Flash Fiction is a very short story consisting of a few sentences or paragraphs

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Twisted Fate

In the darkest of nights you can hear the screams. Muffled screams of nightmares past... Distant memories of drowning souls. Burning bodies just on the outskirts of hell's gates... Presumptions of lost innocence... Walking in the arid desert night, humming a little tune. Am I really alive anymore? Will I awaken to some new life free of the darkness and despair? Insanity knocks on my dusty door, begging me to come out. And I turn from my door to see him smoking at my kitchen table. So I sat down with him, had a drink, and we discussed memories of love, the fallacy of righteousness, and the numbness of this thing called life...

Saturday, August 22, 2015


Shadows follow me and cover me with a black, sticky oil. If you get too close, the oil rubs off onto you. Stay back! This cloud of despair and chaos will rain down and corrupt you too. Everything I touch turns to shit. My life is a menagerie of extreme complications and swirling images of burned bridges. The ashes burn my eyes as I look over this lonely cliff. The shadows are ever present, whispering hateful things and conjuring another hex... Another spell... Tying me down to the filthy ground...

Thursday, August 20, 2015


The shotgun is too hateful...
The rope, too short...
I'm afraid of heights
I'm sad to report...
All out of pills, wine, and the like...
Don't even have a car as I ponder my hike...
The cold razor is tricky and slow...
I'm not much for watching blood flow...
Guess I'll stay and see it through...
There has to be other colors than blue.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015


Have you ever felt defeated?
Aimless in a purposeful world?
What the hell are we doing here?
Into this life we are hurled...
Is karma real? Is there really a god?
It is all just a sham? A fake? A fraud?
There are kings and beggars... Prisoners and saints...
But we all leave someday this world's restraints...
Everyday I paddle up this fecal stream...
I'm always hoping; wishing, this was all a dream...

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I am student of life, poet, published author,musician, and a part-time philosopher. I have four daughters and a son. Twitter@dhoover2112