Food for Worms - a short story

Food for Worms (Fiction 101 Series)

 

Bob felt his way through the dirt and rock. He reached the wall of wood within the earth, six feet under. The trails his predecessors had blazed before made the journey bearable. But Bob was faced with a dilemma he and many before him had faced before. They had reached the wall of wood and failed. Many had retreated to locate other sources of food. Others became what they sought and died trying. Finally, Bob found a weak spot in the wood. He burrowed his way through. And there it was. Some dead guy named Bob. And he was all his. 

(Dedicated to five friends of mine who bravely traveled the width of America in a VW Bus back in the late 80s. They called the trip, "The Food for Worms Tour." Here's to Matt, Chris, Paul, John and Mandeep.)

No Screen Time - a short story

No Screen Time – a short story 

One Saturday afternoon, I noticed that my daughter and her younger brother – in the same room – had been glued to their phones all day. With a slight huff, I untethered both from this screen-addiction. After their juvenile protest, I told them, “no more screen time for the rest of the weekend,” which drew overdramatized complaints, and with an increase in volume. I simply encouragement them to go out and play. This led to a look of betrayal followed by silence. But at least their faces were no longer trapped inside a flat rectangle.

Moments later, I spied the two sitting in lawn chairs at the front entry. The front door was open, and they were intent on staring out the screen door. I asked, “What are you doing?”

They ignored me, at first. The younger finally piped up, “You said, ‘no screen time.’” And he rejoined his older sister at what I perceived to be their way of rebellion.

But soon, I found myself staring. Staring at the cars passing by, at the neighbor walking by with his dog and another riding her bicycle.

Then I thought, at least they’re looking outside.

 

Inception

Inception is like

a wildflower

planted at birth.

Buds emerge from growth

             that flower into inspiration,

                   and seeds spread with the wind

                          throughout the landscape…

Summer Carousel - a short story

Summer Carousel - a short story

The last ride on the carousel, on the last day of summer, was the most anticipated for the four Bender children – Anson, the eldest and his brother Phillip, along with their two younger sisters, Anya and Phoebe. Anson paid the carousel operator the usual four dollars for each of them. And with the money they saved all summer, the ride was all their own.

Around and around, the multi-colored lights streaked in a three dimensional circle. They laughed and laughed on mythical creatures – up and down, up and down. The carousel spun faster and faster until the lights disappeared into a fourth dimensional sphere.

When the ride was over, their laughter faded but something fantastic altered their glee. The carousel operator was gone. He was replaced by someone else with a big, bushy mustache. They turned to see the Opening Day banner at the main entrance of the carnival. It was the beginning of summer – just like they had planned. They could relive all their summer dreams. But as they walked through the crowds, everyone was finely dressed. Phoebe said they all looked like they were going to a wedding. The finely dressed people looked at the children’s strange attire. Several commented that Phillip was in his undergarments. When they reached the parking lot, all the cars were gone – the parking lot was gone. Instead, the street was lined with horses and buggies. 

Phillip, Anya and Phoebe all gaped at Anson for an answer.

“Where are we?” Anya asked as her deep, dark eyes widen.

Anson thought for a moment. A deep, dark moment as if he fell into one of the carousel mirrors that became a pool of water only to be pulled out by the carousel operator. It was a moment that felt like all summer. Finally, after a nudge from his brother, he stated as he exited his trance-like state, “Not where?”

Phillip and Anya focused on their older brother with a voltage-like shock.

Phoebe tugged at his cargo shorts and asked with her soft, brown eyes, “When do we eat?”

~

Also published in Synchronized Chaos, the August 15th 2026 issue.

That's Bad - a short story

That’s Bad – a short story

I used to drive my mom nuts whenever I called something “bad!” Like a black 1963, split-window Corvette or a buddy performing a spectacular jump on his BMX bike. But when I came home from school and she asked me how I did on my test I said, “bad.” Decades later the same Corvette was “wicked,” but mom had once read a Psalm to me that mentioned we should avoid the wicked. And just a decade ago, a brand new Corvette was “sick!” It all made sense to me. But not to my mom. Even so, things are changing – again. 

When a friend had taken me for a ride in a mid-engine Corvette on Laguna Seca raceway, I stepped out of the car and became sick. Because now it’s “dope,” which I needed from being sick. And now, I hear a phrase like “only in Ohio,” and I can’t tell if my daughter is talking about her geography or something else. Not sure if this sounds nuts or weird, but I wish I could drive to Ohio in my bad Corvette.

Update - a short story

Update (Fiction 101 Series)

The next thirteen words Marvin typed did not display due to another anti-virus ad. “No more damn updates!” Marvin shouted at his computer.  

Marvin’s coworkers knew the wisdom of keeping a safe distance from him when he failed at techno-anger management. He had been known to throw his phone from the balcony of the office. And this morning, he threatened his laptop with the same fate.

Nevertheless, at his retirement party, they gave him Ari – a female robotic AI. The other androids stood around and watched his reaction.

He closely examined her and asked, “Is she my date? Or my update?”

Flat - a short story

Flat (Fiction 101 Series)

Before Earth was first visited by aliens, it was believed the planet was round. But it is round – and flat. A flat disc that spins like a record as it plays the songs of peace and war. 

The aliens remained above the edge as if a giant hand held a needle over the planetary vinyl. And they listened to the many dissonant tones of international news. Of the non-harmonious national news. And of the off-key local news. These songs smothered out all others. And so the aliens left. For they did not want to land on such a mind-numbing flat note.