Posted in Uncategorized, writing with tags , , on January 20, 2016 by WritingBrandon

It is weird how different two days can be. I walked outside yesterday to a heavy snowfall. It hid the sun behind a quiet gray blanket. Big, cotton candy flakes hit the ground in muted puffs. It was nice, and it was peaceful. Even in the city. For a little while the snow covered up all the nastiness that filled the streets, and everything was pure again. White, clean powder radiated a soothing stillness in the otherwise busy minds of the city folk. It seemed like it was Mother Nature’s hint at us to slow down, and so we did.
Each one going home to whomever they had. Sharing hugs and kisses under blanket forts as we lined up a movie to watch or show to binge. Just like that we had stopped the hustle and bustle. We were quiet and content just like the icy smoothness of the fresh snow, and just happy to be still. Happy to be innocent.
Then, the morning came. Jobs demanded attendance,and rush hour roared to life. Now the snow was no longer a bringer of peace, but an inconvenient annoyance to our busy lives. We forged our ways out into it. Clumping the powder into heaps, big trucks cleared a messy path in the briefly calm roads. We left those we sought comfort with. Leaving them as dirtied snow that lined the streets. Once white and pure, but now gray and thought of as a burden we abandoned our snow fort companions. As we went out again and sought more green.
Today is sunny, and warmer than yesterday. The snow is melting, and I am alone in this dizzying world. It is not quiet out here, nor is it peaceful. No, all that has been replaced by us and our noisy business. I find it odd though, that today is nearly twenty degrees warmer,and yet it feels much colder than yesterday.


Highway Hypnosis

Posted in short story, writing with tags , , , , on January 3, 2015 by WritingBrandon


I sat in the diner eating my late breakfast of over easy eggs and slightly burnt wheat toast. Just the way Sarah used to make. Between bites I took sips of black coffee and cursed myself for waking up late. I needed to be on the road or I’d never make my meeting in Chicago for my grant proposal. I signaled the waitress for the check as an older gentleman sat down in the booth. His hand flicked the crumbs off his table with a delicate and nonchalant wave. I raised an eyebrow as he met my gaze.

“Do you ever wish you could do it all different?” he asked.

“Um…I’m sorry I don’t know you.” I answered unsure of myself.

“It is a simple question Ryan. Do you ever wish you could do things differently?”

He knew my name. How the hell did he know my name? I looked around the diner searching for the waitress. I didn’t want to be here anymore.

“Just answer the question young man. Do you wish you could do it all differently?” he repeated as the waitress strolled up to the table.

“Oh hey Nick, when did you get in?” she asked with familiarity as she placed my check down.

“Only just a moment ago Maggie. Didn’t know you were working today too,” he replied warmly as he picked up my check. “Let me take care of this for our friend here.” He placed a hundred dollar bill and the check in Maggie’s apron pocket and told her to keep the change.

“You are just the best Nick!” She gushed, and then pranced away.

“Hey thanks, but I don’t really know what you mean. I um…should really be going. I’m already going to have to make up some time on the road. I really appreciate it…Nick was it? Anyway, I will make sure to pay it forward or whatever.” I said hurriedly while grabbing up my coat.

The old man stood up rather quickly and blocked my exit. He placed his hands firmly on the table and top of the booth and leaned in close.

“You still need to answer me Ryan. Do you ever wish you could do it all differently?”

“Jesus, man! Yes! I do I really do. Is that what you want to hear? I do. Now can I go?!” I snapped.

“Have a nice drive.” He smiled and casually walked away.

I composed myself as he walked out the door. Nobody in the place seemed to have noticed our strange interaction. I made my way to my car as I looked around the lot for the old man. I found no sign of him. Getting into my word down old compact car I had to tell myself to shake it off. I needed to be focusing on my proposal. I tried to but that old Nick guy kept creeping into my thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about the whole thing as I passed the sign that said I had 50 miles until I reached Chicago. My mind drifted again as I turned on the radio.

I came to as I passed a sign informing me that I was leaving the Chicago city limits. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes as I tried to clear some of the fog. As the focus came back I realized the steering wheel was different. What the hell was a fancy logo like that doing on my old piece of…..wait the whole car was different. Stained cloth seats were replaced with rich leather. The instrument panel and radio were now impressive looking touch screen displays. I then noticed that my wrinkled second hand suit had turned into a fine three piece with cuff links and a silk tie. My left wrist was weighted down by a fancy looking watch. In the passenger seat was a bag overflowing with hundred dollar bills. What the hell? I don’t own anything remotely nice. Where did I get a bag of money? I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror and swerved to the side of the road and stopped. My hair was back. A full, thick head of black hair had grown in from where it once had been receding. My eyes were no longer baggy and I had youthful smooth skin that was devoid of the five o’clock shadow that resulted from waking up too late to shave that morning.

I opened the bag of money and realized it was stack upon stack of hundred dollar bills. There had to be almost a million dollars in there. I closed the bag and set it back in the seat. I realized there was a newspaper on the floor board in front of the seat and reached down to pick it up. The date read November 16th.  Wait that was two days from now. The cover story was a picture of police standing around a car that was identical to mine. Yellow tape partitioned it off from a crowd. The head line read “Mystery Man Found Dead in Diner Parking Lot”.  What is going on? As I kept reading the article revealed that an older man had been found dead in the trunk of the car. Police were reviewing camera footage for a person of interest.  So far no leads have developed.

I dropped the paper. This was all too weird. Glancing back at the radio display I saw that it said the date was November 17th. Had I truly lost three whole days? Suddenly a ringing sound came out of the speakers and startled me out of my thoughts. The center display said incoming call from unknown. Maybe I shouldn’t answer it, but I really want some answers. I push the phone button on the steering wheel. I don’t say anything, but just listen.

“I’d say this is different. Wouldn’t you Ryan?” the old man’s voice asked from the speakers. “No doubt, you have some questions. I’m sure you’d like me to answer them. Well my boy, you’re going to have to earn that.”

“What did,” I began before being promptly cut off.

“No. No I will not answer any questions now. As I said you will have to earn your answers. Now I have set the navigation in the car for you. There are several points. You may wish to carefully consider the order in which you visit them. At the very end of your journey you will meet me, and if by then you still have questions I will certainly answer them. I have provided you all the tools necessary for your task, everything from money to something a little more direct in the glove box. I look forward to seeing you soon. Have a nice drive.” The phone hung up.

Curiously I opened the glove box. Inside were a pistol and a box of bullets. Fine, let’s see where this goes. I shut the glove compartment and pulled up the navigation screen. Several points showed up and I randomly clicked on one and began the drive. I was ready for my answers.

Sea Monster

Posted in short story, writing with tags , , , , on August 8, 2014 by WritingBrandon

 Sam stepped out onto the bow of the 120 foot yacht. Rogue strands of his hair caught the salted breeze and danced. The sun was setting and he wanted to watch. He gazed out at the horizon and saw the retreating sun set ablaze the ocean in countless sparkles. He breathed in deeply as he looked down and watched the ship slice through the orange tinted waves. Then he exhaled deeply in an unmistakable sigh. He was happy to be out here and away from his family. Mother and Father were drunkenly dancing and laughing loudly with their friends inside. Sam hated them when they were like this. Which it seemed to him was more often than not lately. He had begged to be left at home, but his parents wouldn’t hear of it.
“You’re going to come on the yacht with us Samuel,” his Mother demanded. “I don’t care if you think you’re too cool to hang out with us just because you’ve your driver’s license. It’s going to be a family affair. All of us together. That’s that. If you’ve anything else to say about it you can take it up with your father when he gets home. I’m certain he’d love a debate with a teenager after a long day at the firm.”
With that she returned to her wine and her socializing with the ladies she’d invited over. Sam didn’t even bother to protest any further. When Father returned from work (only a mere four hours late) he went right into the bathroom. He didn’t bother to even say hi to Sam. He simply walked by smelling of booze and strange perfume that didn’t smell like his mother. Sam overheard him mutter to his mother as he walked by that the guys at the office trying to make partner took him out. She simply shrugged and told him she was going shopping without even glancing at him. And now here they were as a whole family. With the addition of two other couples that had been invited. No other kids though.
Sam secretly hoped that his parents would drink too much and end up overboard. He could be one of those orphans that inherited his parent’s fortune. Sam smiled thinking at how great that would be. The sun vanished and night took over as he turned around to walk down the starboard side of the ship. He stumbled over something in the dark. The lights from the yacht turned on and Sam was shocked to see a tentacle arm sliding toward him. He scooted back towards the hull of the ship. Frantically he was looking around for something to defend himself with. He looked to the wall and saw a fire axe. Sam sprang to his feet heaving it high in the air ready to slam it down on the sea creature, but was ashamed to see it was only a hose he hadn’t wrapped back up from spraying the deck earlier. He slid back down the wall laughing still grasping the axe. He felt so foolish thinking that some monster of the sea was going to kill his whole family.
Sam laughed for five minutes until he had a new idea. He looked at the bladed edge of the axe and then back to his stumbling drunk adult companions. He thought of his earlier wishes to be an orphan, and he realized not all monsters have to come from the sea.


Posted in horror, short story, writing with tags , , , , , , , on August 6, 2014 by WritingBrandon

The prompt: You had that dream again. The one where the beast with the drooping hands and wicked fangs stares you down from your window. Except the window is open this time – and you’re awake! What happens next?

My story


I awake from the dream with a cold fright. I clutch the bed clothes tight to my goose bump infested flesh. I’m breathing fast and shallow creating a steamy cloud overhead. Apparently the dream isn’t the only thing to have given me chills. It starts differently each evening I go to sleep, but the end had until tonight always been the same. I stand at my window transfixed by glowing red eyes that stare into my very soul. Sharp talons etch spider web cracks into the window between us. A thin piece of glass is the only thing separating me from the malicious intent of the beast. A thick mane of matted hair rustles in the wind, and a blast of heat from thick flaring nostrils fogs the window. Instinctively I try to wipe the glass clear. As my hand rises massive jowls part revealing a cavern of wickedly sharp fangs. From where I stand I can smell the stench on the wretched beast’s breath. It roars a thunderous growl and explodes through the glass and I awake.
I dare a peek over to the window where my night time haunting usually gazes at me, and see nothing but the pale moon lit meadow just beyond the woods. I exhale another cloud of warm vapor into the cold air and push myself towards the window. I don’t remember opening the window, nor would I have in the middle of the winter. My feet meet the cold boards of the floor and they creak in protest under my weight. I gingerly tip toe to the window as I peer out and almost lament the absence of my nightmare. Reaching up to pull it shut I find it’s difficult to pull down, and after a few struggling moments I’m using my full weight to pry the window loose.
As I hang just above my toes I smell it. The stench of the beast in my dream assaults my nose. I dart back from the window. It couldn’t actually be… No. The beast wouldn’t come here. It couldn’t actually be here, but as I think it a set of eager talons rest on the prickled bare skin of my shoulders. They sink in and I wail with pain in the night. I am lifted off the ground and thrown across the room. Crashing into the bed I come to a violent stop. I roll over to see the beast. It is every bit the same as in my dreams as it menacingly advances. I back futilely into the wall.
The beast pauses and teases my face with a claw. Glowing red eyes lock into mine as the head of the monster cocks to the side. Its throat rustles and clears as its jaws open.
“Release me witch,” the beast croaks. “Have I not suffered long enough?”
How is the beast speaking?! How is it even here?
“Your spells are weakening. Your protection from me has waned and I’m only beast in appearance. I’m no longer the mindless monster you cursed me to be. Now please undo this black sorcery. Let me be a man once again, and release my servants.”
The beast slinked back away from me. Its eyes searching into my own. I regarded the creature now and felt a slight bit of pity for it.
“I’ve dreamt of you every night for months now. Tonight was the first night you actually broke the glass in my dream. It was an omen I suppose,” I began as I stood back up. “Tell me beast have you learned anything from your time as a mindless monster? Has your outward appearance reflected your actions and careless thought towards me?”
“How dare you punish me for your perceived slight!” the beast roars. “Because I didn’t return your feelings you curse me and my kingdom witch! How dare you judge me as the monster?”
“Careful my beastly prince. Your arrogance is still thriving. I can see you’ve learned no humility. Go back to your castle and await the pretty girl you think you deserve. But you must win her as you are. Let her see your true form and see if she doesn’t treat you the way you did me beast.”
The beast rears back and prepares to lunge letting out a thunderous roar.
“Calm yourself beast. If you kill me you will be stuck like this forever. Not just you but your servants as well. Think of them if your rage is threatening to overcome you.” I admonish.
“Perhaps, but perhaps the spell will wear off the way your protection spell did.”
My eyes widen in fear as I realize the beast has cunningly thought this through. If I’m no longer alive the curse is lifted. Hence the reason for the protection spell. He knew. He only came to call my bluff and has seen me show my hand. As the creature leaps towards me I cannot help but see the window finally drop and the glass shatter.

The Chest

Posted in romance, writing with tags , , , on July 28, 2014 by WritingBrandon

The Chest

I could never understand her fascination with old things. She had fancy names for useless items such as antique or heirloom. I preferred to think of them as old pieces of shit. It didn’t matter though, because whatever made Erin happy also made me happy. Her smile was worth the endless hours at garage sales and pointless eBay bidding wars. I didn’t even bother to bat an eye at the décor shift of our bedroom. At least not until a rather large and old looking chest occupied the former home of my sleek and minimalist IKEA dresser.
“Erin?” I began, puzzled by this monstrosity that obviously wouldn’t be accommodating my 42” flat panel. “What happened to my dresser?”
“Oh isn’t it great?” she responded not even bothering to come out of the bathroom.
“Well it’s certainly different. Where’d my TV go? Don’t tell me my clothes are in that thing.”
Erin leaned out of the bathroom with her robe barely making it to her shoulders. She was toweling her hair with mischievous eyes, and suddenly I knew I had no hope of being upset, much less protesting the new addition.
“Easy Ben. Your clothes are still in that boring dresser. It’s just down the hall in your study. And I had the TV installed on the wall in the basement. Thought it would help complete your man cave.” She began to saunter over towards me with the smile of an excitable child as she pulled a tarnished key out of the pocket of her robe. “I was waiting for you to get home to open it. It is a survivor of a fire in this grand hotel in Istanbul. Isn’t it great? It’s a relic from Turkey during the First World War. It was there when my Great Grandmother was. I only paid…”
“Don’t. I don’t even want to know.”
“Well ok then, let’s see what’s inside. It’s been hard to wait for you to get home. I’m really excited about this piece. I feel like it has such history and a great story.”
Piece, that was another favored word of hers to describe a recent overpayment for used up rubbish. Erin squeezed between me and the chest backing into me with her body. Her lush raven hair smelled of intoxicating honey vanilla something or other and I couldn’t help sinking my face gently into it. My smile growing as she delicately guided the key into the time worn hole. I placed a hand on hers as she turned the key. The lock unlatched with a clumsy thunk, and Erin pulled the doors apart. A warm earthy smell wafted out and over us.
“Oh…” Erin stammered. The opened doors revealed five separate shelves equally spaced apart. On the middle shelf sat an antique ring. Erin stood motionless staring at the piece of jewelry. The setting was antique, but the Princess cut diamond was new. I reached around her and picked up the ring.
“You know it took some serious doing to get to this,” I began to explain. “Your Great Grandmother was a bit of a roaming soul after that war. With some help from your mother I found this. It is the same setting your Great Grandfather got her before he left to fight in that war. The diamond was rather small and I figured I could add something to it. This here chest was in the hotel he proposed to her in. I bought it awhile back and put it up on that antiques site you love. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist and I wasn’t going to sell to anybody but you. ”
Erin turned to me with the biggest smile I’d ever seen and I knew all my work was worth it. She balanced on her toes and gave me a big kiss bustling with excitement.
“You went through all that trouble?! Oh my gosh you’re the best Ben!” she was nearly squealing. “You’re the best husband in the history of the world!”
I enveloped her in my arms looking at the left door of the chest that still hung open. There was a fresh inscription on the inside that I was going to let her discover later. It read:
Of all the history in the world, ours will always be my favorite. Happy Tenth Anniversary. I love you. -Ben

High School Zombies Short Story!

Posted in Uncategorized on July 7, 2014 by WritingBrandon

It was the last day of school and Principal Wallace was patrolling the hallways. We’d all been instructed to clean out our lockers before fourth period just before my lunch. He stalked behind us as we emptied our personal effects from our little metal time shares.
“Clear em out!” he demanded. “I want nothing left behind.”
This went on for a few moments until his walkie-talkie squeaked something unintelligible. He ripped it from his belt and spoke directly but quietly back into it. Then his face changed and he was moving.
“Finish up and go to your home rooms.” It was all he said before he faded around the corner.
I paid little attention to him and had my mind on the after school kegger I was throwing this weekend. My folks had some property where my dad took me to hunt, and learn to survive in case of who knows what. Which pretty much was Dad teaching me to be like the crossbow wielding badass on that zombie apocalypse show. It was also where I’d been holding an annual party since freshman year. Tonight I was planning to finally tell Addison how I really felt.
“Mason! Mason!”
I scan the halls to see my buddy Alex tearing through the clusters of gathered social cliques. He is running full speed with wide panicked eyes. He reaches me grasping fistfuls of my shirt.
“Mason… some serious… shit.” He stammers between gasps.
“Easy. What’s going on?” I try calming him. He looks the way he did when he found his brother nearly overdosing.
“We have to get out of here. Now! Something awful is happening in the cafeteria.”
I can hear screams from the direction he came, and I break into a dead sprint for the direction of panic.
“Mason where the hell are you going?!” I hear Alex behind me but I have no time to tell him this is Addison’s lunch period. I sprint into the madness and see a hoard of rabid creatures surrounding a screaming student body. There must be thirty of the things and they have both Addison and Principal Wallace in their sights. Wallace broke out a fire extinguisher and was bludgeoning the things. I looked around and saw the table where graduation tickets were being cut. I tore the bladed handle off the paper cutter and flipped the table on its side, shoving it into the horde as a way to clear a path for the students.
It may have created an escape for Addison and the rest but it put me in the middle of the biting ragers. I let loose with my makeshift machete and split dark melon after splattering dark melon until I was engulfed by the undead horde. Principal Wallace sprayed the extinguisher giving him a chemical cloud cover as he pulled me loose from their undead clutches. He looked at me with calm eyes as he lifted his blunt weapon.
“Didn’t you hear me Mason? I said ‘Clear em out! I want not one left!”

Superhero change in the wrong bathroom!

Posted in writing on July 3, 2014 by WritingBrandon

Office Politics

It wasn’t even noon and already I’d been shot at and blown up. You have got to love the city. At least nobody got hurt. Well, except for the criminals taking hostages at the bank. Unfortunately, I had to break one of their arms. The others will have concussions with varying degrees of severity. They deserved it for making me late. Again. Besides, who the hell robs a bank anymore anyway? Everyone knows that they don’t keep millions on site. All of the money is pretty much just zeroes and ones in a computer these days. I figure the bank has maybe $20,000 in cash. I mean that was more than I was making in a year at this point, but I wouldn’t want to throw away years in federal “make me your bitch” prison for it.
At least after I had the time to pick up the morning coffee orders that my department always demanded. The office was full of creatures of habit that always got the same thing so I was confident when I picked them up from that place on the corner before sneaking back in to change. I couldn’t make it in the front door because if I had I’d surely have been busted for being late again by my micro-managing fat ass of a boss. So I slid in through one of the slim bathroom windows and dropped down into a stall. As I did my bag containing my regular clothes snags on the window and I damn near hang myself over the shitter. Fortunately I’m not too vulnerable and the only victim is one of the special order coffees that makes a splash in the toilet. Great. Who was going to cry over not getting a coffee? I free myself out of the possibly embarrassing situation. Thank God nobody saw or they would have thought I cracked under the stress of the office. Or even worse, that I was pulling a “Carradine” at work. I can see the headline now, “Employee dressed as superhero dies in office sex game.”
I finish changing and stuff my heroics gear into my messenger bag/would be noose. Then I glance in the toilet. I’m not fishing the cup out, because I’m not certain the coffee is the only thing that made the water warm and brown. I compose myself and exit the stall only to walk right into Tim and Eric from billing. Their faces are bewildered as they take me in. Eric isn’t even bothering to finish closing his pants, and Tim still has soap bubbles on his hands. Damn it I must have gone in the men’s room window. I really need to slow down.
Eric breaks the silence first, “This isn’t a bathroom for interns Laura. Even if they’re sneaking in from last night’s costume party.”
Well at least he was a dumb asshole. Tim on the other hand was drying his hands and giving me a knowing wink. He handed me a new paper towel and told me my “mascara” was running. It was soot from one of the bombs. I offered him a coffee which he accepted, thanking me for the coffee and everything else I do in the office.
“Oh get a room, I’d like to finish here,” Eric interrupted. “You can leave me one of those coffees on your way out Laura.”
“Oh sure thing sir, I already left it in the stall.” I smile as I push open the door.