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Short Stories by Paul Blumer
Detroit, Circa 20teens
I wake up on a paint-spattered mattress on the floor, nose to nose with an inquisitive cat. The light through the windows shows the cool charcoal of almost dawn. The windows have no screens. The house is a mess. A real work-in-progress. Freshly demo'd, freshly painted, freshly reborning. Detroit...
At The Crossroads
There’s an old legend about ghosts—says if you want to keep restless spirits from haunting the living, you bury the body at a crossroads, face down. Whether this confuses the ghosts, leaving them wondering which way to go for eternity; or the constant traffic is meant to keep them from crawling out of the ground, is anybody’s guess...
Breadcrumbs
Stay tuned...
Stay tuned...
Dr Clepsy's Device
Stay tuned...
Stay tuned...
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