The Fifth Horseman As Eric lay dying in Saint Bartholomew's hospital, four ghastly figures gathered around his bed. "Hello, Eric," said a skull-faced fellow who carried a scythe. His dark robes flapped in the still air of the room. "Who…are you…guys?" Eric gasped. His...
The hallway was silent, as quiet as the world outside the classroom windows, muffled by falling snow. In the stillness, Brian heard the distinctive tap-tap-tap of a woman's high-heeled shoes, striding purposefully. The steps approached his classroom, and slowed. He...
I usually start jonesing on Thursdays. This week, it starts Wednesday. Three long days before I can see her. As usual, once the adrenaline rush starts, work becomes a blur. My pulse throbs. My skin crackles. The testosterone soaks into my soul. I don't give a damn...
The woman's black cloak is wrapped tightly around her. She stumbles from the alleyway and into traffic. He is in the right place at the right time to catch her before she falls to the sludge. She turns around. His eyes meet hers. It's hard to see more than a glimpse...
It was impossible for me to ignore him through no fault of his own. His scent was maddening, a test of my endurance. Sweet sandalwood and earthy turmeric overlaid by the headier aroma of his sex. It seemed, based on his youth and choice of reading material, that he...
There is a room. A square room. There is a bed in the middle of the room. A square table. A chair. There are no windows. No doors. It is neither hot nor cold. The only sound is that of your breath knocking against the silence of the room. There is a single fluorescent...
"Feel the mighty engine's dance," Jerome repeated to himself, strolling along the twin steel rails. A thrush chirped somewhere and drew his eyes to the side of the tracks. Stale sunlight, trapped in the breezeless August trees, made him squint his eyes. The world of...
The blue hour of the afternoon walking from the rehearsal at Symphony Hall to the subway station on the corner of 6th ave and 42nd feels smooth, round and soft, peaked stiffly in the center as I would imagine a woman's breast would feel if I ever dared to touch one. I...
I am not sure why I want to tell this story. I am not positive it's even my story to tell, though I'm the main character. I was just there, the subject. Marcus, he was the conductor, the chemist. He did the experimentation. Maybe it's his story to tell, his hypothesis...
Brad could sense the chill in the air right away. He was still groggy before his first cup of coffee, but he wasn't dead. Of course, Liz wasn't exactly subtle, either, when she was annoyed about something. Everything she did took on a certain crispness, an economy of...