Archive for the ‘Superheroes’ Category

Two divers pried open the giant bivalve and found a tiny child inside. They named her Pearl and raised her as their own and never lied to her about Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Unfortunately, all parents lie to their children. They told her she was normal.



Posted: June 3, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror, Superheroes

He fed the rats on his own flesh and the rats became like him. They had bullied him, harassed him, chased him into the sewers and finally he fell, breaking his back. They left him like that. Now he was back in a great red-eyed swarm, covering the kitchen floor, crawling on their counters, coming out of the air-conditioning vents. Then the ones who had called him rat-boy fed him on their own flesh.


Posted: May 13, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror, Superheroes

He tried to touch her only once after the “accident.” His new hands were state of the art, but not the kind of things made for foreplay. She slapped him and stormed out, saying she wasn’t going to be part of his freakshow. Luckily, his new hands were definitely the kind of things that could crush beer cans. He spent the night in the garage, drunk, and by the last few in the case he had convinced himself there was guilt in her eyes when she had slammed the door. She was staying at her penthouse and his hands made it easy to circumvent the security system. He and machines understood one another even better now. Soft sounds from the bedroom confirmed his suspicions. One punch smashed the door to splinters and he stood there in shock. She was on the bed with her legs in the air, Gorelock’s hulking, mutated form pounding into her. His old hands, the real flesh and blood ones, hung on a chain around Gorelock’s neck. Decision made, he ran at them, grasping the chain, strangling the man, if you could still call him that. By morning his old hands were burning in the fireplace. His new ones were red with blood.


Posted: May 7, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Superheroes

It wasn’t much of a power, not really. Not when you compared it to the ability to shoot death rays from your eyes or expel hurricane force winds from your lungs. All I can do is inhibit kinetic and chemical reactions when I focus on something. Not much of a power to stake your life on when mixing it up with the big boys. Even so, I was glad to have it when the car full of gunmen chasing me suddenly found their brakes didn’t work and they went crashing through the guardrail straight off the cliff.

The Power Within

Posted: January 21, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Superheroes

Whenever he used the Power, and he always thought of with a capital P, it changed him. At first, it wasn’t so noticeable, a reddening of his irises or the strange, sharp molars that replaced his missing wisdom teeth. Later, it became more pronounced, though still easily concealed. The ridges along shoulders and spine he could hide under his leather jacket. The masses of knuckle and claw his fists had become he covered with gloves. Luckily, the less he used it, the smaller the changes. The problem was some of those small changes were mental. Bad ideas began to look brilliant. Levitation up to the roof of the bank only gave him an extra toe. Blinding the cop that tried to arrest him when he left with the money regrew his foreskin, thick and finely scaled like a snake. Taking down the feds just outside Miami? That was a whole other order of business. Shrugging off bullets, blowing up FBI vans, that shit cost him. He got away with the money, hunchbacked and armor-plated, but what good was it if he couldn’t spend it? He was so freakish now he was better off in the Everglades with the other reptiles.

I experience a mild thrill just picking up the cape, a tattered black curtain that hides all fear and all shame. The photo on my dresser mocks me, blowing breathless kisses. Mother. Slipping my hand inside the glove I make a fist and, hearing the leather creak, wonder if it could ever feel this good to be inside a woman. I put on the mask, my true face, a better face without lips to lie with or emotions to betray me. God has given me power. I am strong and I am silent. This is my city – – a weak, noisy, city – – and I am its protector. I open the window and leap out, gliding upon the fetid exhalations of its concrete canyons. Alighting upon a rusted balcony I begin my vigil. It doesn’t take long. A pair of tattooed thugs appear, dragging a woman behind them. Her face is bloody and she is begging them to let her go. They tear her dress and I experience a momentary pang of terror, wondering what it must be like to lose that second all important skin, to be laid bare. She screams for help and they laugh, beginning their sordid business, taking turns with her. I watch. Father. When they are done with her I rise to my feet, spread my cloak like raven wings, and glide away. Returning through the open window I hurriedly slip out of my costume, but I am already too late. The brief rush of desire I felt is fading and my hands, still inside their gloves, cannot arouse me. Angry and ashamed I throw myself onto the bed and cry like a baby, red faced and choking. I’ll try again tomorrow just like I try every night. I think of what they call me in the papers and my cries turn to laughter. Hero.