Joined July 2009 and calls http://www.facebook.com/thomaschoe home.

8 stories, 0 challenges, 2 comments, and 19 friends

If you don’t have anything critical to say, don’t say anything. Seriously, Ficly is like a massive masturbatory exercise, and I want to improve as a writer.


  1. The Bar

    It was the kind of bar you don’t expect to meet up with a lady in. Hazy smoke drifted lazily among the broken ceiling fans, whiskey straight was the most common order, and trucker hats and flannel were the main fashion choice, though not the kind...

  2. What are your dreams?

    “What are you dreams? You know, your hopes?” She looks at me expectantly. I don’t have an answer. I never have. Go to school, get good grades, get a good job, live in relative comfort. Right? I mean, that’s the best anyone can h...

  3. Deserted

    I hold my breath, steady my rifle, and quickly blink away a bead of sweat running down into the corner of my eye. “Two point five”, my spotter mutters. I nod, almost imperceptibly, making sure the movement doesn’t knock me off target....

  4. Regret in Reverse

    She looked around the cluttered room, and down at my sorry state. I held my breath. “This is not…an optimal result”, she said after the longest pause. Books and sketchpads littered the tiny one bed, one bath, pet-free, no smoking apar...

  5. The game

    It wasn’t the enormity of the house that had me speechless, but the lighting. Brilliant halogen spotlights accentuated each of the distinct characteristics of the palatial dwelling, from the gothic archways to the flowered tresses. I stepped insi...

  6. Like a light switch

    I gingerly touch the small skin-tone button at the base of the skull. They said to wait four days for the circuitry to fully implant itself into my nervous system. What do they know? They’re only trained professionals. I can’t afford to wai...

  7. Ten minutes, 600 seconds.

    The suit’s vacuum seal is slowly starting to depressurize, and I feel the light tingling that comes with the sensation of losing all the air in my suit. I check my gauge: 10 minutes. 10 minutes. It takes less than that to fall in love. 10 minutes...

  8. Ready, steady

    I square my shoulders, grimace in pain, realize my mistake, and quickly hide it again. I look across the bloodied, dirty mat at my opponent, who looks calm and composed. I look down at my toes, taped up, blood seeping through the seams where the sticki...

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