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Flashback Thursday gives us one of Puff Chrissy’s old fiction experiments: “He Owns a Large Set of Keys to Rooms He Can No Longer Remember”.

This was originally meant to be for an anthology to be published next year. I had written other pieces for the anthology that explored horror movie and police drama cliches, and I thought it would be fun to apply the same thing to comic books. The word limit for the stories were 1000 words, and once I decided to do this story visually, the trick was trying to do this in less than 100 words, for the challenge of it.
If you read comic books, I think you’ll notice the little …

This was originally meant to be for an anthology to be published next year. I had written other pieces for the anthology that explored horror movie and police drama cliches, and I thought it would be fun to apply the same thing to comic books. The word limit for the stories were 1000 words, and once I decided to do this story visually, the trick was trying to do this in less than 100 words, for the challenge of it.
If you read comic books, I think you’ll notice the little …

This was originally meant to be for an anthology to be published next year. I had written other pieces for the anthology that explored horror movie and police drama cliches, and I thought it would be fun to apply the same thing to comic books. The word limit for the stories were 1000 words, and once I decided to do this story visually, the trick was trying to do this in less than 100 words, for the challenge of it.
If you read comic books, I think you’ll notice the little …

This was originally meant to be for an anthology to be published next year. I had written other pieces for the anthology that explored horror movie and police drama cliches, and I thought it would be fun to apply the same thing to comic books. The word limit for the stories were 1000 words, and once I decided to do this story visually, the trick was trying to do this in less than 100 words, for the challenge of it.
If you read comic books, I think you’ll notice the little …

This was originally meant to be for an anthology to be published next year. I had written other pieces for the anthology that explored horror movie and police drama cliches, and I thought it would be fun to apply the same thing to comic books. The word limit for the stories were 1000 words, and once I decided to do this story visually, the trick was trying to do this in less than 100 words, for the challenge of it.
If you read comic books, I think you’ll notice the little …

Marianne and I were eating breakfast the morning after, just toast and orange juice. It was almost noon. We had about three hours of sleep between us. We weren’t tired though. We were outside in her backyard eating at the table by the pool.
Fall came like a ghost during the night. The trees were bare. Some of the leaves found their way into the pool and floated aimlessly from one wall to the next like empty boats. The sun was bashful above us, giggling and ducking behind the random cloud, …

As far as I know, the house on Geneva Street is still there. Whether it still stands or not is irrelevant, because it still exists in my dreams, looking down at me as I approach with its dark windows, its archway frowning, its foundation absorbing my shadow.
My father used to live in it when he was a child. My aunt – my father’s sister – lived in the house when I was young. There are a lot of memories with the house. My memory blurs with my father’s. He’ll tell …

I met a woman in Washington.
This was in September.
I was playing the part of a successful writer, living in an obscure apartment in New Jersey, writing endlessly, waiting for all the words to die. She was playing the part of a brilliant artist, living in a skinny house in Georgetown, working passionately, waiting for her canvases to catch on fire. We were meeting because at this moment in the chronology it required that we meet and offer one another soundless inspiration; we were to be reciprocating muses. …

Just playing around before getting to the serious writing.