Live Bait

“Have you ever eaten anything that’s still alive?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied Easton’s face.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I ate a mosquito once when I was riding my bike down the hill by my house. My mouth was open, and it flew right in and down my throat.”

“Aww, that don’t count,” Jake said. He flicked a flat stone across the pond. It bounced one, two, three, four than a staccato fivesixseveneight “Nine!” he said triumphantly and jumped to his feet. “C’mon, I’ll show you what I mean.”

They bounced up the path, each holding a twig. The air whirred as they sliced at the tops of the tall grass on either side, scattering the seeds.

The campground supply shack had an ice machine and a stack of dry wood on one side of the screen door. On the other side sat a vending machine. Live Bait, it read, with a trout snapping at a lure below.

Zombie Luv Flash Fic Contest: Something Not Hunger

The Hungry had clawed for weeks at the walls of St. Martin’s Cathedral. Their fingertips and nails were stripped away, and exposed bone grated against the rough stones. 

It was a fortress for the faithful and had, so far, repelled all others. Each morning and evening they held Mass. Fervent entreaties to God mingled with the low groans from outside the walls.

“Judica me, Deus, et discerne causam meam de gente non sancta. Judge me, O God, and distinguish my cause from the nation that is not holy. Ab mortuis iniquo et doloso erue me. Deliver me from the unjust and deceitful dead.”

He marked the time by these communal prayers, leaning against a crumbled wall across the square.


He was the oldest among them. Boots, hard black leather, and a motorcycle helmet – as luck would have it – were sound armor for an animated corpse. With armor came longevity, and with longevity came experience. He had learned a few tricks and, in turn, followers who trailed him for scraps.

During the prolonged siege of the Cathedral, all but one had left him.

Her hair was the color of food: bright red, frizzed in the fetid humidity. She survived on the fringes, snatching scraps as the others fought bloody tug-of-wars. Her lower lip was split to the chin, and the slack caused the corners of her mouth to curl in a smile.

She crouched beside a bench; her slender fingers grasped the armrest. She watched him watch the onslaught in the dawn.

Canada FAQ

Happy Canada Day everyone! That’s right, today is the 6th Annual Canada Day, a day to celebrate (hassle) Canadians and that country’s wealth of history and culture.

For your enjoyment and, more importantly, your education, I will now inject a little bit of Canadian spirit (Labatt’s) into your day by answering some frequently asked questions about Canada.

Q: Where is Canada?

A: Canada, or North North Dakota, is a long, 160-kilometer (mile) wide strip of land sandwiched between the United States to the south and someplace else to the north.

Q: Who lives in Canada?

A: Beavers.

Q: Does Canada have a government?

A: Canada has (borrows from England) a queen who dictates everything from the food they eat (bacon) to the clothes they wear (flannel).

Q: Does Canada have an economy?

A: Yes! Canada’s economy is focused on beer. More specifically, it’s focused on serving beer to American college freshmen who hop the border on weekends. Many Canadians claim that they brew some of the best beer in the world. Of course, they also claim that they burned down the White House once, so take it for what it’s worth.

Canada’s main trading partner is the United States, and their main export is cold fronts. I can personally attest to the high quality of their cold fronts.