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| There is no easy way for me to transfer my short stories directly to this page, which is extremely annoying and very time consuming. Plus I'm going back through my stuff and that which I think is great I'm making sure no one will copy. Thank god for copywrite laws. I do beleive though that the first of my short stories will appear on here in a matter of a week or two. This is definitly one of those things I take a lot of pride in, so please respect my work do not use it as your own. However you may feel free to submit your own ideas or stories and I will post them up here for all to admire. But PLEASE, as I ask you to respect my work I'd like to be able to pay the same respect for yours, so give a pseudonym (pen name) if you don't want to give your real name. Without a name I will not post any stories up here by you. Stories can cover any number of topics or genres. This is not a contest, but then again those of better caliber will more or less than likely remain up whereas older stories will make way for new prospects. |
| The Storm Approaches I can see it from a distance so clearly. A murky blackness that eats up the world I so despise. Perhpas god is bringing us another Noah's flood. Lightning crackles through the static air, but it doesn't make a sound, I sit in silence, watching, waiting, anticipating that one moment in which I will jump from my seat as nature plays another one of its mean tricks and striking when you least expect it. The sky changes from the blackness of charcoal to a redish brown. I can no longer stare out my window as rain washes against it, trying to break on through. There isn't anyone here but me. I don't need the rain to drown my sorrows, I have my music for that. The same beats dance through my head in constant repetition. I await the end of the world. But its not going to come today. The children now run out into the puddles as the storm washes up against my cheek. Why am I crying? The thunder never comes, its only in my head. So I'll sit out this storm. Perhpas the end of the world will come tomorrow. Until then I have one more day to write. Brian H. |
| I Know Kung-Fu Shit its going to be another one of those days in which I don't remember what exactly I'm supposed to do, only the stuff that doesn't even matter. I can stare at these tests or listen to my teachers all day and all I'll hear in my mind is Keanu reaves saying in his Bill and ted voice "I know Kung-Fu". Its horrible really. I could be giving a eulogy one day and not realize that all I ever really said was "I know Kung-Fu" instead of how much he meant to all of us. But I wouldn't know the difference until my cousin smacks me upside the head and says way to go Einstein. I can turn up the radio as loud as I want, but it never drowns out the pointless thoughts, just the ones I need to get by. God why in the world have you screwed up my mind like this. It should be assumed that I must have fucked up somewhere along the way to be tortured by such a lame one liner. "But the movie was good huh?" Oh hell yeah the movie was good, but I mean that one line just eats away at all the available spae in my head. I could be putting my mind to better use than something as juvenile as a bald headed Keanu speaking with a glazed over, stoned look in his eyes. "HAHAHA actually it'ld be really funny if thats the only thing you could say." Are you kidding I'd be traumatized. "Brian would go out with me" I know Kung -Fu. "Okay..." See what I mean? Damn you Keanu Reaves. Brian H. |
| Okay before people freak out, I just want to let you know I was drunk when I thought this one up. However me and my roomie agreed it was pretty funny, so without further adieu... Women and Underwear I chugged another Natty as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Smiling, "Well aren't you the handsome fellow." Smack. Whoops, not a mirror. "Hey guys how many is this for me tonight?" "Nine...I think." "Fuck." I stare at the ground which rolls like waves across the murky green waters of Lake Erie. But I'm not going to get sick tonight because tonight is a no spew night. But nine? My god I've never had that many before. So what if you consider me a light weight, like I care. But you must take into consideration that that is 9 in the last 2 hours. "Four of which were in the last 20 minutes." "Are you gonna puke?" "No I'm cool." I swayed a bit with the gentle rocking of the room as another round of flippy cups got underway. "You don't look so hot." "Yeah well neither...oh wait yeah you do." Sadly enough my drunken stupor has chased another one away. I turn to the nearest human being so I can share my wisdom. Afterall I was always told that I have one wise thing to say every night. "Ya know...finding the right girl is like finding the right underwear." ...And everything stopped. "What?" Some girl across the room cried in reaction. Everyone turned to listen. "I'm serious, hear me through. Ahhumph...Well, I was just saying that girls are like underwear because there are different kinds and you got to try them out to see which one is right for you." "Pervert!" Someone cried from across the room, but everyone else seemed to laugh in response. "No seriously. Look you've got those that are really loose and just don't fit you at all, and when a guy and girl don't fit, then they weren't meant to be." "Okay what about the ones that are too tight?" "Same thing, a relationship that seems constrictive isn't healthy because it doesn't allow you the freedom you once had." Some girl cried from across the room, "Freedom, what in the world? Would you have us walk around without underwear?' Of course there was some hooting and hollering, but I stood my ground and stated, "No because not wearing underwear is like not having any sort of relationship at all. You don't have something special that belongs to you." "Like my Victoria's Secret underwear?" The room fell dead silent until some guy across the room began snickering and was silenced by a smack across the back of his head from the girl sitting nearest to him. "Umm...sure, but I was talking about relationships." "Ohh right..." Slowly the noise and normalcy of the party returned to normal when the cute girl to my left tapped my shoulder. Maybe she was drunk, I'm not sure. "So what type of underwear is good for you?" "The really cute looking ones," replied a nearby drunkard. "You know with ponytails, and long brown hair." She laughed and began to talk with the smart-ass with the wise-cracks. Crap, I was so close. "Quick someone get me another beer, I need another story." Brian H. |
| True Love...Only In Dreams She was 5'10, sandy blonde hair that was never pulled back but draped over her like a silken hood, running down to her shoulders. Her blue eyes shone like stars in the darkness of night. She was thin, and curvy, not an anorexic model body, but nice. She walked in slow motion as if she were walking across a balance beam, but she never stumbled, but walked with a sureness about her. Her hips didn't sway as she glided across the floor like an angel walking through the foggy night air. Branches swayed in a slow breeze as the dress she wore blew to one side exposing a bare leg. Not a sound could be heard as leaves rustled and her bare feet touched fallen branches. Wind brushed a hand through her hair, shining light across her icy blue eyes. Her lips, soft as a flower bud, touched mine, and a calm fell over the world. "Time to wake up." She smiled brushing a hand through my hair, as she glided across the icy darkness of night. Beep...beep...beep.. I lie in bed, listening to the sounds of morning. The alarm fails to stir me from the tranquility that embraces me. Sighing I listen to the alarm as if it were the soft voice from my dreams, as I think to myself, "I'll see you again tomorrow night." Brian H. |
| The Words We Can't Read In Dreams Soft, sweet, like flowers. You get a wiff of them. They linger, those forgotten dreams. Something happens to spark the thought The black appears on the white, and you try so hard to understand. Those words in dreams. Its like a code, unbeknownst to the majoirty of all, the password to all our dreams. Maybe they're real maybe it's a fantasy. They exist to me, but blur to the unreadable gray my eyes have come to know. Are the words really that important? I don't think so, but there must be something I can take away from it all, these dreams. If you die in a dream you die in real life. How do we know this is true? Did the dead come back to tell us all, or did we read it from a page in our dreams? We may never know where our dreams will take us. Reality is something you can read... In dreams, we can't read the words... Brian H. |
| Some things just can't be described the way they happen, sometimes they just do... Goddess: Heaven From a Rooftop Goddess... Where are we in this universe? Is real living just a shot away? Life at a slant Does not make My view askew Sitting on a rooftop Looking into space Staring at the stars A final resttng place Brian H. |
| COMING SOON |
| ICY BLUES (THE SHORT STORY VERSION) |
| ...the music changes and life goes on... Mirrors amaze me. They show you on the outside, and sometimes if you look close enough you can see something going on inside as well. We can stare at our reflections for hours as long as you look for that which you never looked at before. Have you ever stared deeply into your own eyes? Have you ever wondered just how far back you had to look to find your own reflection? "Its been a long day, always...ain't that right. Matchbox 20 sings me the song of my life as I wipe at the foggy mist that covers the mirror, my reflection. Sometimes we can't see who we really are. Our minds get a bit foggy. I remember one time I offered to carry a really nice beautiful hula dancer home because her sandal strap broke. "But how much do you weigh?" I was never a very strong guy to begin with. It was something I was well aware of, I have a strong will...but thinking is not one of my strong suits. I try to look at myself closely in the mirror, to see what I'm really thinking, but the closer I get the more my breath fogs up the mirror. It's frustrating when you can't see what you're doing. "Pull out some hope for me..." It's something I could always use. Sometimes I find myself grasping for that one thing I have very little of. Hope. It's not a low self-esteem thing, that's something I have...or do I. There was a play in high-schoolthat I remember as if it was a video running in a loop. Its one of those films in which everything comes clearer the second time around. Sometimes you just don't understand why things happened. I remember choking out the wrong lines. The director yelled cut and my daughter gave me an evil eye...things always come apart when you get "the eye". It's not just some side-long glance that someone gives you when they want to say to you, "You idiot!" It's the intentional stare that reaches deep into the back of your eye and screams at you "I HATE YOU!" I still haven't found that look from my reflection yet. The CD changed...or maybe it was just the song. It was my latest mix, I just didn't remember putting it in. "In the end it doesn;t even matter..." How true is that? I stare at the razor sitting on the sink's edge. The mist still hasn't cleared away. If the song is accurate, all the good deeds I've done will amount to nothing when I die. Nothing. "It's nothing, honestly, I must have deserved it." She told me over the phone of her boyfriend who abused her because she wasn't going to head out with him that Friday be cause she made plans with her other friends. Why does she hang out with him? "I guess this is just another one of my cries for help, you know one of those I'm not really suicidal things...I just feel like shit." She was crying on the other end, but as I said I've never been good with words. She disappeared from the world days later. I never saw her again, but I saw her screen name online...but it wasn't her, it was her angry boyfriend. He threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I told everyone. He doesn't know who I am, so, God help me if she was dead... In high-school a freshman admitted to his homeroom that he was gay. He didn't survive the year. He shot himself in his dad's den. The police write those suicides as accidental, something that wasn't premeditated, but happened on the spur of the moment as a vengeful paranoia that the way in which you can hurt everyone is through guilt...that your dead and it's everyone else's fault that it ever happened. The parents clamed the Catholic school they sent their son to. The scholl blamed the parents whom knew ahead of time that their son was gay, and that an all-boys school for a homosexual wasn't the wisest of things to do. "...But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you." I remember swings and moonlight. There was a girl there with a glow in her eyes. The haze never blurred her image, but you looked at her and thought you could find god. Is there a god? The haze slowly cleared away as I gripped the razor between my two fingers. it hurt at first, but then all that was left was a warm numbing pain, as if all the blood from my body rushed to my neck all at once. Just a little cut...I have to be more careful when I'm shaving. Brian H. |
| Thoughts I Can't Find the Words For... The black drape of the night sky hung silently like a kite in the unending breeze of the universe. Amongst this infinite expanse, there was a boy. This boy dreamed a great many dreams, but always found that his goals in life were too great for a boy of his age. The boy grew older and became a man. Friends and family slowly reached their age of maturity only to have the three sisters of fate decide that the roads they traveled had come to an end. Soon the man found himself alone in the world, searching franticly for a life worth living, he returned to the life he lived as a boy. He cried to God many a time, but felt neglected by his Great Creator. With downcast eyes, the man, once again a boy, took the slow road never traveled. The lonely voyage took him across the great nameless continent until he reached the end of the earth. He stared down into the dark abyss, contemplating the "courageous ending" of a gladiator's life. To die in battle or fall upon the sword. Fighting back tears the boy turned from the abyss, walking away in shame. "I am truly not a man if I can not die the loyal death of a gladiator." Retracing his footsteps the boy headed back in search of the life he had once lived. Halfway there, he met a girl. Her dark hair shone softly in the little bit of light left in the boy's dark world. Her eyes shimmered like a star's reflection in the water. Shadows drifted across her fair skin, and for a second the boy was afraid. The moon slowly swept the clouds away, as the girl stood, silently silhouetted against the backdrop of a vast universe. The boy's soul was finally at peace. He grew old and became a man once again, and died remembering that no one is ever truly alone. Heaven exists. It is only when we think we are truly alone that God sends us a message to keep us going forward. I may have found heaven...it didn't require dying...the boy found an angel in his life...so did I. Brian H. |
| Gut Check A man sits on a bar stool staring into his upteenth beer of the night, It swirls in its cup like a whirlpool in water. He downs the drink and orders another, continuing the process of staring at the liquid gold he holds in his hands swirling in circles between his fingers. With each slurp his mind drifts off into space, feeling his money go where his mouth is. He's a changed man lacking the discipline he once held. The money in his pocket were his dreams and aspirations rolled into one wad of paper slips. One by one he places the bills on the counter top drinking another dream away, until his dreams and aspirations are all gone. Empty pockets. Grasping at air, the man finds he has nothing left to live for, having wasted away anything and everything of absolute value. As the last bit of swirling gold slides down his throat he thinks to himself, "I've wasted away my dreams,...I never realized how much I had until I drank it all away." Standing, the golden fluid in his body shifts, throwing the man to the ground. Dragging himself to the door, his nails chip away, his skin scrapes and bleeds against the cold unforgiving ground. He wishes that this wasn't his unhappy ending. Raising a bloody hand to the sky the man looks to the sun through tear streaked pleading eyes. As he struggles to see the light of day... ...he is a changed man... |
| Me: Last night it was so cold that Peaches froze to the tree Tom: I didn't realize peaches were on trees in the winter. Me: Peaches is my wife... Tom: What was she doing in the tree? Me: She didn't realize that peaches didn't grow on trees in the winter either. |