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Short Stories

Here are some varied short stories. Some are unfinished, some I've left behind, some I might work on more some day. They aren't all science fiction, although most of them have science fiction elements. Most of these are more like flash fiction in length.

  • Candelight Vigil

     

    I stood wedged against Mark and Diane, among the countless people in the street. My candle was flickering in the breeze, and since I'd forgotten to grab one of those little collars for the candle, the melting wax was dripping on my hand. Luckily, it felt more pleasant that painful.

    It was the third night. We were all committed to having these candlelight vigils every single night until it was over. The first night had been the most difficult. The sadness, frustration and even anger flavored the air all around us, and the police were nervous. They had tried to start to corral us, but then somehow we all just sat down on the street, or on the sidewalks, and they couldn't do anything with thousands of people just sitting on the ground. It was sunrise before we stood up and went home.

    I think some of them were probably at their wits end. Truthfully, we weren't even especially interested in what they did or said. We'd mostly sort of blocked...

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  • In the Palm of my Hand

     

    In the palm of my hand, I hold the key. It’s a key that I’ve never used. I found it in a drawer when I was packing to move last, and remembered that I’d had the key for years. It was given to me by an old friend. Before we lost touch, she told me quite earnestly that I’d be using the key at some point in my life. It was like a promise.

    She gave me the key with a cactus plant that died years ago. She’d put the key in the dirt, with a note attached to it. She explained that I needed the key, and that I’d use the key someday. But she never told me why, and I still don’t know what the key is really for. I thought it was metaphorical – you know, the key to her heart or something, that would be like her. But in the way she talked about it, it seemed perhaps to be more than that.

    Before she got married, I would go to her house often. I remember the blue door to her house – it was a strange blue, kind of...

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