My Craft New Pulp Stories

Jake Rutledge and the Guy with Bad Timing – Part 3

He started whispering gibberish. Most of it I couldn’t make out except for a few pieces. He plainly said “a fob” and he kept mentioning “weapon protocol.” The second phrase scared me, but the fob piqued my curiosity. What if it could stop all of this craziness? He really didn’t look very good and I needed to figure this out. I grabbed two mugs, filled them with coffee, and found a corner booth to talk things over with Charlie.

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My Craft Very Short Stories

The Road to Kelso

The bus broke down five miles outside Kelso on the Joshua tree road near where the train tracks hang on the yellow hills. The few tourists unloaded their bags deciding they would rather walk than stand in the heat. Sally smoothed her pettifor and adjusted her wide-brimmed hat. She would wait in the bus. Twenty minutes later a private stuck his head into the bus and offered a ride and Sally joined the bus driver…

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Fish Tacos My Craft

A Visitor Awaits

  [aesop_image imgwidth=”700px” img=”” credit=”Pixabay” align=”center” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] Bolsón de Mapimí, Chihuahuan Desert, Old Mexico The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper. – Eden Phillpotts The desert wind blew warm and dry across his face layering grit on his chapped lips. He dropped the square bottle to his mouth and let the agave drip down his chin. The cold air bit into his bones. He wrenched the long robe tighter…

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