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Writer, filmmaker, and comedy performer living in Winston-Salem NC. I write fantasy, horror, flash fiction, and film/television/music reviews.
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I Care A Lot / Netflix

Let’s be honest, satire is probably the hardest genre to truly pull off successfully. Most masterclass examples of satire are either untouchable classics like Dr. Strangelove or fantastic pieces of work that satirized their subject so well that they tragically became enveloped into the very organism they were poking fun at like Fight Club. It’s the kind of genre where every step the storytellers take is part of a balancing act on a tightrope smaller than a piece of string. …


Ha ha, remember when we used to do this?
Ha ha, remember when we used to do this?
Photo by Erik Witsoe on Unsplash

Honestly, what does one even begin to say about the year 2020? If you had an even marginally good time, chances are, you’re a monster. Absolutely nothing was left unscathed by the wildfire that was last year, including moviegoing. Our entire concept of moviegoing has been warped. I’m desperate to return to a theater but also terrified of whether or not it’ll still be the same. Regardless of what happens in the future, what got us through the past was movies, and it’ll always be movies for me. All of the best films of a year in some way capture…


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Photo by Denisse Leon on Unsplash

It felt like sheer dumb luck finding shelter at this time of night, in this kind of weather, but there it was. He could barely make it out through his whirring windshield wipers, desperately trying to push back the torrent of rain pelting against his car, a little wooden, hand-painted sign, illuminated by two lights hanging on the top bar, pointed down to draw attention to the carved-out letters reading “Florence Home Bed & Breakfast.” Howard closed his eyes tight and rubbed them as hard as he could to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming, but sure enough, that little…


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Photo by fotografierende on Unsplash

“Time to go,” said the impossibly tall man standing in the corner of Lawrence’s dressing room. Lawrence leaned back in his chair and stared down the unwelcome guest, twirling his mustache.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lawrence did his best to never take his eyes off the figure, even if he couldn’t see his opponent’s eyes for himself. They were shrouded in a shadow cast over his face from the old threadbare traveler’s hat resting on his head. The only identifying mark that Lawrence could make out was the long, grey beard poking out from the…


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Photo by Eyre June Bustamante on Unsplash

Nobody was going to catch Abby this time.

She was almost back to the clearing where the Visitors always picked her up. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were like toothpicks, but she kept running, clutching Anthony closer to her chest as she did so. She wasn’t going back to the hospital. She was finally going back to Apolexa, the planet the Visitors took her to, and maybe this time, they’d let her stay, especially if she explained the gravity of the situation to them. There wasn’t any other option. She had promised Anthony.

Abby had been abducted…


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Photo by Brad Lloyd on Unsplash

When I used to look in my bedroom mirror, I always took it for granted. It was just my reflection. I was not particularly ugly or beautiful, at least not to me. I was just a normal person examining my appearance.

These days, when I look in the mirror, I feel a chill run down my spine. The whole thing started a few weeks ago. It was all in the little differences at first, easy details to overlook while turning my face back and forth and trying to spot new blemishes.

First, it was a delayed movement. My hand or…


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Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

“Werewolf? Are you serious, Claude?” asked Kristin with snide judgment all over her voice with just a touch of drunken slur.

“Why not? We played it all the time when we were kids!” shot back Claude, wobbling a little bit, standing in the center of the living room like a town crier who’d lost his marbles.

“Maybe because of what you just said. We played it all the time when we were kids. We’re all thirty now.” said John, slumped so far into the couch, he almost disappeared.

“Speak for yourself, I’m only twenty-eight, said Claire, leaning against the doorframe…


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Photo by Matt Hardy on Unsplash

William loved the ocean. This love was always at odds with his mother’s feelings for it, who was deathly afraid of its deep, dark waters. Unfortunately for his mother, they lived right by the shores of the biggest ocean, that stretched out forever, into the horizon and beyond. His father was a lighthouse keeper. They lived in a little two-bedroom house, next door to the lighthouse tower, where William’s father spent most of his days. The two structures were perched at the top of a steep cliff, overlooking the expansive waters. …


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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

When Trevor was a boy, the creature only came to him in dreams. His mother told him it was nothing to worry about, but the breath at the back of his neck told him differently. It told him that he knew this thing from before he could remember. It whispered in his ear every night. He never turned around, but he could always picture two glowing red eyes in the dark. He could smell death in the air.

“I am always and eternal. I was with you in the womb. I followed you out. I’m beside you now. …


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Photo by Christopher Rusev on Unsplash

Dell was tired, claustrophobic, and done with being sociable for the day. Part of her felt guilty for the sour attitude, but on the other hand, how long was one human being that was getting over smoking expected to go watching badly-played intramural soccer before having a breakdown. Kurt would be upset with her, she knew it, but she also knew he’d get over it eventually. She could see the whole situation play out in her mind now:

He’d lope off the field, sweaty and panting, that big goofy grin on his face. He’d put his slimy arm around her…

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