Riley Stevens

Riley Stevens carried murder as one bears a secret condom in the wallet, always available to him, never gaining the opportunity to use it, like a bomb with no place to explode. He left the subway on a midsummer morning, traveled up the steps, to be one with the sparse traffic moving along the Bowery sidewalk. As a visitor to the city, he made it his mission to see everything he possibly could. 

Foreword

The bitter heart writes bitter songs, creating fragile beauty of almost indescribable sadness. He who sings the songs learns by osmosis the state of the writer, but if he sings and is himself the writer, there can be no redemption. The darkness that is his soul’s dwelling place is forming a rising pool that in the end must engulf the singer, who will drown in the silent blackness, the bitter heart to write no more.

A Germ Named Orphie

Yesterday I worked at anthropomorphising a germ. It regards itself as "he" despite the fact there are no hes or shes in germ-dom. It bears a special attachment to a nine year old named Olive, who is oblivious of Orphie's existence. I got about a page in the rehab waiting room, in a spiral notebook. I hope to expand on it later today.

submitted

I submitted Spelville Story Collection today, to the first publisher.