Joined May 2009 and calls My Old Ficlets home.

71 stories, 2 challenges, 583 comments, and 36 friends

Great stories happen to those who can tell them. -Ira Glass, although he attributed it to Anonymous.

If you comment my stuff, please be as nit-picky as necessary. I crave constructive criticism. Also alliteration.

If you want to start a series with me, drop a note! Remember to comment on everything, rate, and use the Random Story button at the bottom of the page.

Warning: Shameless Plug Ahead Had around 570 ficlets on the old site—you can read ’em through the link above if you like.


  1. Sea-Soaked Goldenrod

    They think I did it. My brain like a fractal array of stars; police coercion can fill any blackness between to make their own constellations. I call it false confession. Here is what there was: a journal scribbled with the ink-scrabbled eggs of a half-...

  2. Gold Standard

    I have sharpened my muscles like a knife on a whick whack rod where the blade slides up and down and up and down, and at the end it’s thin enough to make the air bleed. That’s how my muscles are now. I have felt the torsion of my torso twis...

  3. Notes on a Chest Wound

    I awoke to the dull throbbing of crystalline nanofibers weaving themselves through the hole in my chest. It hurt to move my head, but I looked down and watched their glowing ends poke coyly through tissues to cauterize and pull them back together. The ...

  4. The Snow Baptismal

    The mountain feels his aching spine as pounding, hounding arctic howls that wear away his proudly pines disturb his crystal cowl. And on his back, some parasite sets pricks and pins in shoulder blade— half-blinded by the icy bright, makes weary j...

  5. Always Wish With Protection

    This is the fourth genie encounter you’ve heard about in the past month. All of them end the same way—the first schmuck asks for two billion dollars, next day: crushed in a houseful of nickels. Next girl talks to you in the checkout line...

  6. Her Plumb Line Waltz; 1st Movement

    On Sundays he would go to the bakery, grab two bagels, and take his Sabbath at her dance studio on tenth. She had live piano during her classes, and when they were over she would dance alone, he taking the bench and plucking out a sonatina or arabesque...

  7. Xibalba (Mature)

  8. The Astronomer's Nirvana

    From his observatory on the peaks of Kejajo, the astronomer leaned back and jumped at the plaintive shriek of his chair’s legs. He realized it was the first sound he had heard in months. Strewn around his feet were piles upon piles of paper—...

  9. Just

    I know that the devil dishevels your tongue and dwells in the drink or so they tell me. But the devil must be both devil and god because you haven’t heard the words he slips into my tequila like so much rohypnol a thief to steal into my mouth and...

  10. The Collision Baptismal

    At times when the road is slick and premature dusk bloats up the sky, I clasp the steering wheel and shut my eyes. In that suspended moment I feel helpless to the whims of the universe; I dare the Fates to cut my cord, that coiling umbilical that I nev...

  11. God's Atlantic Sunsets

    Back when I had money I bought this cottage on the Rhode Island coastline—it’s called a cottage in the pamphlets but is in reality a hunched and sprawling Cape Cod house. Now I go to the beachside that is my only home and stand for minutes ...

  12. The Impartial Governor

    A supernova murdered a star several million years before the event was seen from Earth. As it happened, Homo habilis gazed at the host above but saw nothing different. A particle at the center of the late star had been morphed and stretched, its interi...

  13. Papers, Please

    Mr. Beaver kicked at a pile of leaves and took a puff from his cigar. “Foreman!” he cried. A harried-looking beaver in the distance looked up quickly and jogged over. “Mr. Beaver, sir, good you came down. The rat’s over here, we just got him ou...

  14. Left the Brandy...

    Mr. Beaver lit a fresh cigar and walked with Chris Hare through the hubbub of the forest floor, amid packs of rodents hurrying to and fro, beams hauled overhead, and trees moaning at the edge of collapse. As Hare talked, Mr. Beaver silently mourned the...

  15. Aloof, Aloft

    Mr. Beaver stood at his penthouse window and stirred his brandy with a lonely claw, watching the animals below mingle like ants among the fallen trees. He sighed to himself, whiskers twitching to the beat of Carmina Burana on the gramophone, a mashed c...

  16. Seen

    “The Unseen, are, in fact, seen. Every day. Every place. They are special…in no way.” The eyes of his mask glew brighter for a second. There was a deadly atmosphere. Suddenly she sprang up with a dagger and plunged it into his throat. She gasped,...

  17. The Unseen's Arrival

    There was a quiet pall about the street. The Unseen strode in silence, surrounded by a small army of guards, all clanking armor and softly jangling chains, and bated breath. Spears knocked at the cobblestone, and boots crunched in monotone unison. At l...

  18. Fake Estate

    It was September fourteenth, two days after the encounter. Zack sat motionless in his car, parked by a curb, a quarter of a mile away from the property. Whatever had finally drawn him out to sate his curiosity on the twelfth now held a magnetic repulsi...

  19. Mana

    July the Twentieth The Year of Our Lord 1533 It is done. After months of tribulations and slow victories, we have finally drawn out the secret of the Incan emperor Atahualpa. Soon he will be executed, and the arduous journey we have taken for Spain and...

  20. Asp

    Warmth floods in and I start to seize Muscle quakes and tremors cease My eyelids shoot about, trapeze For a second I don’t even pant. For this, made from the strangest trees Can take away the hours to please My deepest, dark infirmities And all t...

  21. Concerto No. 2, Overture: Flight of the Filing Cabinet

    Reams of paper fly under his hands, ballpoint gliding across them in half-aimless trails. A cough rises from his throat, brushed by a tinge of cigarette smoke the employee next door isn’t supposed to be enjoying. A mental image of a revolver floa...

  22. 291HR

    In front of me, a long hall winds laboriously on with glass security doors stretching across every twenty feet. In between each one are four vault doors, guarding their respective high-level secrets—secrets the powerful and very wealthy pay good ...

  23. Silent Eye

    People think I’m indifferent. That I’m faceless, and therefore unprejudiced. But this isn’t true. Just because you see only your pretty little face in me doesn’t mean I don’t see it too. And I judge you by every stain you&...

  24. Empty-Headed Exploration

    My eyes are not my property; They’re not mine to control. They build massive earthen towers Out of pebbles set by moles. They judge without a jury, Follow no established laws, They wander and decide alone With no apparent cause. There is no brain...

  25. The Watering Hole

    Narrowed eyes, In grass, disguised, The lion licks his lips. Aware, alert, Gazelles tap dirt As they take cautious sips. The lion, crouched, Awaits the pounce That brings him to his prey. With muscles tense, In thickets dense, He dawdles, daring fate. ...

  26. Dirge

    The air is stiff, as stiff as my spine against naked wooden pews. Solemn murmurs glide from pillar to pillar as crackling fabric gnaws at my skin. Bursts of color— draping bouquets, lonely rose on Grandma’s lapel; filtered light and dust sp...

  27. Tired Providences

    It was raining outside, a cold and heavy rain marching in offbeat steps. Lura rubbed at her wrinkles in the mirror, making sure they were all deep and prominent. Lines like mazes, winding, proud… Sandren’s voice pulled her out of her rapture. &...

  28. Closeness Through Distance

    Stare at the walls. There are no words. Why do I feel my eyes wet with tears that weren’t shed for my grandfather? Why do my fingers shake for someone whose face I’ve never seen, whose voice I’ve never heard? Sentences. I’ve rea...

  29. The Marionette's Revenge

    She twiddled fingers and rasped her voice to rid his brain of thought of choice. Her throat, the womb that knit her lies; amniocentesis to drain disguise— Dipping line, downward spin— She made him careless, drowned in gin. Still, he hid the...

  30. Auspice

    Translated from Voice Log 101513 However much time we spend watching this species, it seems they quadruple it in the effort of watching us. We have seen foreign objects circle around our craft, attaching and feeling like fingers. We feel disturbances r...

Stovohobo's Friends (36)

  • THX 0477
  • Kevin Lawver
  • Ana Cristina
  • ElshaHawk (LoA)
  • NinjaChicken
  • Yuriy Zubovski
  • Oy
  • Never Explain (LoA)
  • blusparrow (LoA)
  • One Time, One Chance
  • Elisabeth L. Davis(LoA)
  • Laine Grey
  • Saint Chuck
  • orikae
  • lastsyllable
  • N555champ & X-Ninja
  • Geebs
  • Butler
  • RockPaperScissors
  • Ronnie
  • Fyora Cartagan
  • Spiderj
  • Aurelia
  • bluefish
  • Mighty-Joe Young (A.K.A Strong Coffee)(LoA)
  • Rohit Kumar
  • dkscully
  • Jessica Brown
  • uselessness
  • StudMuffin (LoA)

Stovohobo's Followers (101)

  • Ana Cristina
  • Lone Writer
  • ElshaHawk (LoA)
  • Kevin Lawver
  • ALRO613 (LoA)
  • THX 0477
  • g²LaPianistaIrlandesa
  • Les Orchard
  • blusparrow (LoA)
  • John Perkins
  • wytherwings
  • uselessness
  • George
  • Never Explain (LoA)
  • thebetweenspace
  • Textual Phoenix
  • Alexa Reed (LoA)
  • Saint Chuck
  • BARomero
  • N555champ & X-Ninja
  • SupRspi
  • Overlooked_Merchandise
  • Melia
  • .:Band Baby:.
  • Crown Me Tarzan, King of Mars
  • invisibility_disability
  • One Time, One Chance
  • NinjaChicken
  • Yuriy Zubovski
  • Rohit Kumar