Flash Fiction: Wilbur Whateley’s Mother

Wilbur could talk. Maybe always could, but at age eleven-months, those were the first words he chose to speak to Lavinia Whateley.

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For the Road

Why do you even bother wiping shaving cream on your face? Do you think it matters? Think people will notice you've shorn off that one day's worth of scruff?  Maybe you think your face looks more innocent without hair?  But you aren't innocent, are you? Why don't you take that razor and shove it deep …

Along for the Ride

Emperor Yi, bastard took hundreds to the ground with him, but not to rest, but to guard his long ago dust turned bones.

A Curious Feast

"Sure, why not," the boy king replies and all gathered drop to one knee. The thirteen-year-old smirks his famous dimpled smile uniting once again all the lands under the banner of the South. His father died a year ago. The great man. The one who took them this far- killed in his bed by his …