I finally dug up my old notebook. This poem is an all time favorite of mine. Even though I couldn’t rewrite it from memory, its soft quiet essence stayed with me for years forever imprinted in my mind.

This poem was written on Feb. 28, 2005 in the midst of a city snow storm. I remember the night I wrote it. I can picture my old neighborhood, blanketed in cold white, laid out before me like the clearest of pictures. I can still hear the crunching of my boots and see my puffs of breath dancing on the cold night air.

So, cozy up and keep warm as I invite you to walk down that frosty memory lane with me. Please enjoy the original “Silence of the Snow”.

She holds her breath for just a moment
So, she can listen to the snow
Slowly falling against her eyelashes 
Gently stopping on her nose
Quietly frosting over tree branches 
And softly resting on her clothes

It’s so quiet
It’s so quiet when it snows
People stop talking 
As they try to trample home
Slushing, crushing, fumbling in the snow
It’s so peaceful when it snows

The sun, when it shines, 
Is filled with laughter
The rain, when it pours, 
It rumbles as it tumbles
But the snow is so peaceful 
As it flows, as it floats, as it coats 
The ground and windows

She stops again to listen 
To the quiet of the snow
The gentle silence 
As it covers all she knows
A puff of breath then quiet smile 
Before she turns to go
The beautiful white silence of the snow

“Silence of the Snow” will be included in my next collection Everything in Between.

Which did you prefer? The original poem or part Deux? Read the updated version by clicking the image below. Don’t forget to tell me which you like better.

If this poem resonated with you, you’ll find a curated selection of my poems on Substack by clicking the typewriter below

Thanks for reading In Between the Lines! This post is public so feel free to share it.

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There Are No Heroes is available now on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle. Happy reading!

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below:

Thanks for reading In Between the Lines! This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Purely because I put a lot of effort into the back of the book, so you might as well give it a read.

My tired eyes and I ask that if you see any errors, please speak now or forever hold your peace.

There Are No Heroes will available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle fall 2025.

I’ve decided not to include short blurbs for this collection. As much as I loved it for On the Outside With You and how I wished I had done it for Capricorn Moon, for this one, I thought I better not. The collection length is already longer than I had initially intended, so adding an extra five pages wasn’t going to do me any favors. Instead, I decided to share them with you all here so you could get a feel for what the six stories are about.

I hope you enjoy the blurbs for the short stories to be included in There Are No Heroes. Happy reading!

A Late Night At the Office (2024)

I’m the type of person that jumps at their own shadow. The last time my desk was placed in such a way that my back faced the door, my constant screams from people “sneaking up on me” was office entertainment. All that to say, this is my version of a scary story. Vampires, zombies, and werewolves don’t bother me much, but the thought of an uninvited stranger will have me sleeping with a nightlight. The number of times I’ve stayed late, alone, at the office and had to run from the bathroom back to my desk is too embarrassing to mention. So, I wrote a story that would unnerve someone like me. The layout of the office in this piece is a ground floor, one-story building with street parking. Not unlike an actual office space I’ve worked at in the past. I’ve tried to intellectualize that the antagonist in the story is a metaphor for anxiety; but if I’m honest, that would just be haughty retrospective rebranding. I thought it was scary, so that’s why I wrote it. If there are any lessons to be taken from this story, let it be this: always tell someone if you are working alone late at the office, and always – always – double check that the charger is plugged securely into the wall.

Mail Forwarding (2025)

How do you turn one of the most mundane experiences like getting someone else’s mail into a story? Easy – make it a Parasocial interaction. With the amount of media we consume, I find it so interesting how easily people form parasocial relationships with figures they only watch through their TV or phones. They become fully invested and emotionally connected with someone who doesn’t know they exist. And as a person who actually looked up what to do with misdelivered mail, lugged it out to the post office, was thoroughly annoyed at the amount of effort required in “doing the right thing,” I wondered… what if? What if someone did the complete opposite, got so involved in the details of a stranger’s life, developed a one-way bond (much like people on the internet) and tried to act on it. But mail is a big difference compared to social media. For one, it’s illegal to open other people’s mail (let this serve as my official PSA: Don’t do it). Secondly, the connection to a stranger in this instance isn’t one in how many millions, like online, it’s only separated by one degree; an address. And you may think, “well, I get everything emailed,” but many people forget that most of the very important things still only come by mail. Then imagine some stranger nosing around in your stuff using it to try to get to know you. Creepy. All that can be avoided if you remember to forward your mail.

There Are No Heroes will available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle fall 2025.

Not So Evil Lair

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below.

This cover stressed me out. I usually have a very clear visual in my mind when it comes to the images I use to accompany my stories – but not this time. I understood my concept; there are no heroes. But what does that even look like? What isn’t a hero? A regular person? A villain? An ex-hero? An anti-hero?

And then I thought, okay… let’s go with ex-hero, what does that look like? Batman retiring to play bingo at the community center? Wonder Woman volunteering at her local library (that’s my retirement dream btw). Then I thought, okay, let’s go with the first day they hang-up all this hero business.

Shield, mask, cape, sword, laying on a floor, and a silhouette of a person exiting the room.

Except the issue I kept running into was that the generators kept pulling symbols of existing superheroes like Captain America, Superman, and Batman. And obviously, I’m not going to use any of that. “Generic superhero” was just something they could not compute.

By the way, the time spent trying to get an AI generator to understand what a domino mask is might have driven me temporarily insane. The number of masks I got that were domino shaped, domino colored, domino skinned, masks lying next to dominoes, a domino wearing a mask – maddening. I was able to get close by describing it as a “half black mask” and even then, it was a toss-up of whether I’d get Batman’s mask or not.

The second issue I kept running into was the generators randomly deciding which direction “exiting the dark room into a brightly lit hallway” meant. So, when I got a generic mask I liked, the freaking silhouette was going the wrong way. Conversely, when the silhouette was going the right way, I got a batman mask look-alike – so basically unusable.

So, then I thought, okay… let’s collage this whole thing. Let’s take elements I like from each image and make something new.

First Design

I ended up with something “graphic-y” that I wasn’t mad at. I even liked it. Okay, so the ball felt like it was starting to roll in the right direction. Now for the title.

Even though my inspiration was dark, gloomy, dark age comic book style, I wanted a title look that popped. The thing is, I was standing by the books at Costco one weekend (just… go with it) and I was looking at all the book cover designs hoping something would inspire me. I found the ones I was most drawn to were the bright neon-colored titles with crazy or brush stroke style fonts.

It gave me a maximalist vibe that I was finding fun and inviting. To be clear, my personal style is nowhere near maximalism. My home leans more towards modern art deco and my clothing style is some combination of classic/clean/minimalist. But I appreciate the bold whimsy of maximalism, post modernism, etc.

And maybe it was residual frustration with the whole domino mask thing, because somewhere in my book cover design journey I took a hard left. I started channeling Jared Leto’s version of the Joker at one point and ended up somewhere unhinged. I went from hero to villain faster than I could blink.

So then, I started going full early 2000s, inner angsty neon goth, emo, cyberpunk, tumblr kid aesthetic. I was in my Good Charlotte and All American Rejects vibe having a blast. There were no heroes on Canva that night, my friend.

Picture me adding neon splatter saying something like, “I think this will work, but it needs more… More… MORE…” And the longer I played, the more I started to love the bright colors more than I liked my original idea. I’m just glad I decided against the emo skulls.

Second Design

I like what I ultimately ended up with. It made me smile and felt fun and inviting, which was the whole point. If I were standing by the books at Costco, I’d pick it up.

I was drawn to the bright colors. It gave me a villainous vibe that was exactly on theme. I knew it wouldn’t be everyone’s cup-of-tea, and that was okay. I thought, “At the end of the day, it’s just a cover; something I can easily change with revised editions. Nothing to get crazy about.” There was a Joker essence to it that screamed, “Why so serious?”

But it didn’t stop there. Something about that original domino mask concept really nagged at me like a stone in my shoe.

I came to realize that the domino mask was the perfect symbol for my book and stories. It’s a costume accessory worn by both heroes AND villains. This idea paired beautifully with the overall theme of my stories. Everyone has the capacity to be either a hero or villain. At one point in our lives we all play the role of either hero or villain in someone else’s story. And finally, don’t look for other people to rescue you; you need to be your own hero.

There Are No Heroes will be available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle Fall 2025.

Final Design

While I was initially happy with what I came up with, it still didn’t feel like I 100% loved it. So, I laid in my bed and let my consciousness float into that twilight creative limbo between dreaming and being fully awake. And this idea came to me which involved the annoyingly hard to generate domino masks.

Read more

Unrest – it trickles through the streets
Car alarms and raging beats
Voices screaming in the distance
Gunshots popping in pure resistance 
The night is heavy, the air electric 
What heart can rest with no clear exit
Sleep uneasy and bothersome
Chasing dreams with banging drums
The night is long with a restless soul
For peace is fragile riddled with holes
“I’ll keep first watch as you sleep”
Your whisper assures in our huddled heap
I rest my head against your shoulder
Praying the day will see us older
For night, this night, must see us through
And morning finds me next to you 

The hours drag with an endless tock
When suddenly we hear a knock 
Less a knock and more a bang
We fear it’s some wild roving gang
Searching homes for stray dissenters
Feeding the need of emerging tormentors
Tell them our views and they’ll go away
You shake your head, your face is grey
“You think they’ll listen, it’ll never matter
If the barrier breaks our lives will shatter
The growing mass needs to feed
Even friendly voices fill that need
Just stay still, don’t make a sound
Before we’re found, beaten, and bound”
Your words are chilling, screaming with truth
I pray they leave, I pray they move

Prayers answered our door is still
Time moves on with a crawling chill
I take next watch, your head grows heavy
The eerie calm makes my soul unsteady
My eyes roll back as sleep overtakes
A quiet voice shakes me awake
“Is someone there we need your help”
Through the door desperation felt
I look at you in exhausted slumber
The quiet cries as loud as thunder 
I creep to the door inch by inch
At every creak I give a wince
“Is someone there,” the voice calls again
To the peephole a slow ascend
A woman trembling and babe crying too
My conscious wrecked, what should I do

I should wake you for clearer counsel
When suddenly I jump with startle 
The handle shakes from the other side
She screams a message to me inside 
“I hear you moving back and forth
Open the door or I’ll light a torch” 
I fall back overwhelmed with panic 
Thoughts collide, confused and frantic
In an instant, you’re by my side
Just as quick, you pull me aside
Through the peephole you look to see
She has a baby, I try to plea 
You step back and say, “Not anymore”
I rush to see the bundle on the floor
The gang has returned in larger force 
The woman laughs with no remorse

“Civil Unrest” will be included in my next poetry collection Everything in Between.

If this poem resonated with you, you’ll find a curated selection of my poems on Substack by clicking the typewriter below

I’ve decided not to include short blurbs for this collection. As much as I loved it for On the Outside With You and how I wished I had done it for Capricorn Moon, for this one, I thought I better not. The collection length is already longer than I had initially intended, so adding an extra five pages wasn’t going to do me any favors. Instead, I decided to share them with you all here so you could get a feel for what the six stories are about.

I hope you enjoy the blurbs for the short stories to be included in There Are No Heroes. Happy reading!

The Feast (2024)

Nothing goes better with a bellyful of holiday fixin’s like fresh baked pie and a big pot of family drama. And for those of us who are far away from family or those who don’t have a big family to squabble with, I dedicate this story to them. Though in all seriousness, I did write this story during the holiday season with my own family in mind. One or two of the dramas that unfold are actually based on family whisperings. I won’t ever say which, because even at my big age, I could still see my mother coming after me with a slipper in hand. Ultimately, this story was fun to write. Not just because it helped me feel less homesick, but because writing over the top dramatic gossipy theatrics is downright delightful. I reenacted table slams and screamed lines at the top of my lungs, to my animals’ chagrin, in the spirit of verifying authenticity. I giggle-snorted through shocking reveals and play-acted tense dialogue like a crazed madwoman. Fun times were had. And at the last punctuation placed, no character was left unscathed. So, please, all are welcome to partake. Pull up a chair and take up a plate; “The Feast” is ready.

Accounting Hazard (2025)

No good deed goes unpunished. That isn’t what happens in the story; but that does describe a real-life workplace event that happened to me, that in turn inspired this story. And building off that idea, I held my own version of a literary “This is your work-life” montage. I cherry picked some fun outings and tense moments. I played Dr. Frankenstein with a few personalities and created shiny new colorful co-workers. At the end, it felt like a dramatized time capsule of my accounting career – and I love that for me. The actual “hazard” in the story has nothing to do with calculations or spreadsheets. At its core, it’s a story about office politics, ambition, and greed (warranted or otherwise). The entire story takes place in the span of four days, but a “short” story it isn’t. It’s the longest read in the collection, but hopefully it’s worth it in the end. As a reminder, reading non-work-related materials should be reserved for your personal breaktime only. And as long as you keep it safe for work, HR doesn’t need to get involved. Now, get back to work!

There Are No Heroes will available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle fall 2025.

Hero’s Hideaway

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below.

Fall is not only my favorite season but, in my little corner of the world, it's also my unofficial new year/chance for restarts. I reserve big changes, life goals, and milestones for the fall. Maybe it's because I'm a spring baby and see my opposite season as a direct challenge for change. But metaphorically, there's also a beautifully complex duality of ending and rebirth with autumn. Summer ends and nature begins tucking in for the long haul. And yet it's also a time of harvest and reaping the bounty of all the hard work that was planned and planted in the spring.

And outside of all that, whether it's just coincidence or happenstance, a lot of major life events seem to happen to me around the fall. The last three jobs I started, three big breakups, and a handful of interpersonal relationships shifted for better and for worse around the fall.

I'm starting to think this is my season of emotional housekeeping. Huhh... (Sits in momentary contemplation before writing down a note, "Discuss with therapist or possibly an astrologer?").

Like I was saying... my two favorite holidays are in autumn. Very big on pumpkin spice everything (I feel the judgement, but just... just let me have this). Cozy sweaters, cute boots, crisp fresh air, colorful foliage. How can you not love fall?

And here we meet at the autumnal quarterly check-in. Did I feel additional pressure to check things off my list because of how important this season is to me? Absolutely. Did I manage to achieve that?

Huhh... (Sits with squinted eyes, intently focusing on the question).

Welp... Check out below if I've managed to move things from the "ideas graveyard" column to the "to be published" column. And hopefully I'm not going through any major emotional cleansing at the time of this post. Happy reading!

And Finally: Below are all the stories I’m actively working on and each piece’s current progress point. Please watch your step as you step through the multiverse of my mind:

Novel: "Keeper's Log: The Air Witches of Rai"
Super natural fantasy, more for the older spectrum of YA to adult 
- Book Two, Chapter 26 - mid way
- Re-editing "Keeper's Log: The Earth Witches of Terha" for the purposes of continuity

Novelette: "Meet Me in My Dreams"
Sci-Fi, rom-com, drama
- Part Seven - Need the first sentence 
- Might pick up for holidays
- Vague idea of how this will end, the middle is muddy
- Meant this to be a short story but the detail got away from me

Novelette: "Accounting Hazards"
Fiction 
- Part Eleven - last online post, finishing the rest offline
- Completing resolution (ending) and line editing
- Will publish with There Are No Heroes
- Meant this to be a short story but the detail got away from me
- Still fun to write (I hope you like the little twists)

Novelette: "Fifth Man's Shadow/Little J's Story"
Fiction, YA drama
- Tentative rename: The Lost Tribe
- New story perspective that I might explore
- This story was/is like pulling teeth. It originated as a project for my niece, but it's been hard to find my heart in it.

Short Story: "Did You Hear About Tammy's Cousin"
Fiction 
- Finished, needs line editing
- Will be in my next collection of short stories, There Are No Heroes (Fall 2025)
- Cathartic to write

Short Story: "Mail Forwarding"
Fiction, suspense, thriller 
- In the middle of the second act/Find/"Meeting the goddess"
- If I can push out for Halloween, will confirm its inclusion in No Heroes
- Will be in my next collection of short stories, There Are No Heroes (Fall 2025)

Short Story Collection: There Are No Heroes
Fiction 
- Six story line-up complete 
- 4 stories complete
- Release is Fall 2025
- Cover designed
- Need to finalize story order

Short Story Collection: Stories From the Cull
Sci-Fi, dystopian 
- First story complete, unsure of eventual total
- Story boarding/note taking for various stories in this universe
- General idea of ending & various plots
- Still world building in my head

Poetry Collection: Everything in Between
Various themed poems 
- Fourteen poems out of a possible twenty completed
- Release is tentatively Fall 2026

Hopefully, by the time this is published some old projects have come off and new projects have been added. And if I haven’t moved an inch on a story series you’ve grown fond of don’t be shy to let me know. Nothing is more motivating than an active reader. Remember to look out for updates on my next upcoming collections There Are No Heroes and Everything in Between. I’ll see you back here in three months – don’t be late!

We hope you enjoyed your visit of my chaotic mind. Please be careful while exiting my mental work space. Opening the overhead bins may have shifted perspective during the flight. We hope to see you again soon.

Have I made any progress from my first list of projects earlier this year? Check out the first post below to compare and contrast.

If you found this helpful, click the image below for more of my personal writing tips and strategies!

     “Next in line, please”
     “Hi,” Jenny said, rushing to the counter. “How are you?” She pleasantly asked the postal worker. 
     “Fine,” the clerk answered flatly, “How can I help you, ma’am?”
     “I just moved to a new apartment a few weeks ago and I’m still getting mail from the previous tenant.”
     “That’s bound to happen, ma’am,” they replied expressionlessly. “The previous tenant probably hasn’t gotten around to forwarding their mail yet.”
     “So, what do I do with all this?” Jenny asked, handing over a bundle of mail bound with a rubber band.
     “Have you written ‘not at this address’ on each item?” The mail clerk quickly flipped through the bundle knowing she hadn’t.
     “Well no. I didn’t know I had to.”
     “Step to the side and write out clearly ‘not at this address’ on each item and bring it back to me or stick it back in your mailbox for the postal worker to take. Next in line!”
     “Wait. Do I have to do this each time? What if the postal worker doesn’t take it? This is really out of the way for me.”
     “If they don’t take it then, yes, ma’am, you will have to bring it in. Please step to the side. Next person in line!”

    “Hey, mom,” Jenny said into her phone as she entered her apartment. “Sorry I missed your call; I was at the post office.”
     “Running errands on your day off?”
     “Kind of. I keep getting mail for the old tenant and…”
     “Well, they probably haven’t forwarded their mail yet.”
     Jenny sighed loudly as she walked through her apartment, “Yeah, I get that, mom, I’m just saying…”
     “Have you done your mail forwarding?”
     “Yes, mom. I have,” Jenny replied with an exhausted tone.
     “You don’t want to miss anything important.”
     “Yup!” Jenny replied tensely, “I got it. All taken care of.”
     “Imagine if something personal of yours went to your old address and some stranger read it! You don’t want that.”
     Jenny took a deep breath and, on her exhale, asked, “How’s Lyn-Lyn doing?”
     “Oh, she’s fine.” Her mother replied in good spirits, “She’s got a vet appointment this weekend. I don’t like the looks of the hair balls she’s coughing up.”
     “Well, mom, cats do cough up hair balls.”
     “I know that, Jen! I’m just saying, I don’t like the looks of them.”
     Jenny smirked mischievously as she said, “Maybe you should go get her checked out.”
     “Jenny, I just said that I was!” Her mother replied with frustration.
     “Well, I’m just saying…ooff!” Jenny exclaimed, “Damnit!” Jenny said again as she vigorously shook a door handle.
     “What’s that?” Her mother asked with alarm. “What happened?!”
     “Nothing,” Jenny answered as she continued to fiddle with a handle. “It’s my bedroom door. It keeps sticking.”
     “Have you told maintenance?”
     “Not yet.” Jenny replied as she continued to grunt and shake the door handle. “There’s a… trick to it… I just have to… ahh!” Jenny happily exclaimed. “I got it!”
     “I don’t like that, Jenny,” her mother said with concern. “What if you get trapped in your room?”
     “I won’t get trapped in my room, mom. I keep the door open.”
     “I don’t like that, Jenny. You need to tell someone about that.”
     “Listen, mom,” Jenny said hastily, “someone’s at the door,” she lied.
     “Who’s at the door!?”
     “I gotta go, bye-bye-bye!”
     “Who’s at the…” BEEP. Jenny ended the call. 
     Jenny rolled her eyes and sighed. She threw her phone onto the couch and walked over to the kitchen counter. She picked up the bundle of mail she had just brought up from the mailbox downstairs. 
     Junk. Junk. Resident. Resident. “Ugh…” she groaned loudly, “Leonard Smith.” She let out another long sigh as she remembered the cramp in her hand from writing “NOT AT THIS ADDRESS” over and over at the post office like an unjust detention punishment. 
     She played with the envelope in her hands for a moment. It looked like a credit card statement from Blueview Mall. “That’s a pricey place,” she playfully said to herself. “What’d you get, Leo?” She asked out loud, eyeing the envelope flap curiously. She ran her fingernail against the edge of the envelope lip testing the glue.
     After two long minutes, Jenny let out an annoyed sigh. She haphazardly flung the envelope into a junk basket on her entry way credenza. “Forward your mail, Leonard!”

      The elevator doors pinged open, and Jenny stepped out into the hall. “Thanks again for lunch, Sandy. Again, I’m so sorry about the whole card thing. Did you get my cash transfer?”
     “Girl, don’t even worry about it,” Sandy said laughing through the phone. “I know this month’s been crazy for you with the moving and everything.”
     “It really has,” Jenny groaned as she unlocked her apartment door. “And then on top of everything, I have no clue how I lost my card. 
     “You told the bank, right?” Sandy asked. 
     “Oh, yeah,” Jenny exclaimed, dropping her keys on the credenza, “I told them right away! They said they were sending me a new card immediately.” Jenny began thumbing through the new bundle of mail. “I hope it comes soon. I haven’t even gotten Ophelia’s birthday present yet.”
     “If you show up without a gift, it is going to be a whole show!” Sandy said laughing loudly. 
     “You think I don’t know that?” Jenny replied laughing back, “She would never… oh… oh… girl, I think it just came!” Jenny excitedly ripped open an envelope from Parkchester Commerce Bank. 
     “Just in time!” Sandy cheered on the phone.
     “No, wait.” Jenny’s voice fell, “It’s not my card. It’s just a notice. Wait!” A panic filled her. “What?!” Jenny shouted.
     “What happened?” Sandy asked with urgency. 
     “We are hereby informing you,” Jenny read aloud, her voice trembling, “that all your accounts with us have been frozen due to an overdraft balance of $3,876.95! If you do not respond to this notice by… what the fuck is this?!”
     “Oh my God!” Sandy screeched on the phone. “Maybe someone found your card and went crazy?!”
     “There’s no way!” Jenny said as she anxiously paced her living room floor. “I cancelled it within an hour of me losing it. Two hours tops! This has to be a mistake.” Jenny’s heart was pounding out of her chest. 
     “Girl, call them!”
     Jenny tore through the pages, nearly ripping them in her frantic search for a phone number. “Oh my God!” Jenny laughed in disbelief.
     “What?! What?!”
     “Dear MR. SMITH, we are hereby informing you – This is Leonard’s notice. He uses the same bank.”
     “Who the fuck is Leonard?” Sandy asked, screaming through the phone. 
     “The guy!” Jenny said, hysterically laughing, “The guy that used to live here.”
     “Oh!” Sandy said laughing with relief. “I was about to have a heart attack for you.”
     “Oh my God,” Jenny said, thankfully sighing as she plopped down onto her couch. “I wish I did know him right now. I’d kill him for that emotional rollercoaster. And not just that – do you know I have a stack almost a foot high of his mail. Just in the past three weeks since that last time I went to the post office.”
     “Just throw it away,” Sandy offhandedly suggested, “or leave it downstairs. Someone will deal with it.” 
     “No, I’m supposed to write something on the front and bring it to the post office. I tried leaving it in my box, but the mail carrier won’t take it. And I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to get over there again.”
     “Throw it away!”
     “I can’t!” Jenny groaned. “The Internet said I can’t.”
     “The Internet won’t know,” Sandy said teasing. 
     “He gets so much mail too,” Jenny said with frustration. “One day my box was stuffed. All his stuff.”
     “What kind of mail does he get?” 
     “Looks like bills mostly.” Jenny said looking back at the overflowing junk basket. “Which makes a lot of sense considering. Seems like he likes to shop.”
     “How do you know?”
     “He gets mail from Blueview and Canon Couture Express.”
     “Oh! Fancy,” Sandy replied in an elevated accent. “What’d he buy?”
     “I don’t know!” Jenny laughed, “I didn’t open them.”
     “I wanna know what he bought from Canon Couture; even if it’s just the outlets,” Sandy said chuckling mischievously.
     “That’s illegal or something,” Jenny snickered as she continued to eye the basket. 
     “He just gave us a heart attack!” Sandy shouted playfully, “I want to know what he bought at Canon Couture!” 
     Jenny rolled the idea over in her mind. She heard her mother’s voice echo in her ears. “Imagine if a stranger read something personal of yours.” But look at that stack, she thought. How personal could it be if he never even bothered to forward his mail? If it wasn’t her looking through it, couldn’t it be the garbage person, a corrupt mail worker, a scammer? Jenny was just curious – better her than someone with bad intentions. “Okay!” Jenny squealed as she jumped up from the couch. “But when I’m facing a jury of my peers, you better stand up to defend me!”
     “Yeah, sure, sure!” Sandy said playfully, “Open it! Open it!”
     Jenny hesitated, then tipped the junk basket onto her coffee table in a messy pile. She slid down onto the rug, switching Sandy to video. On the screen, Sandy was already pouring a glass of wine, settling in like she was about to binge her favorite drama. Jenny laughed nervously as she shifted through the stack.
     “Start with the thick one!” Sandy shouted.
     Jenny proceeded to open credit card statement after credit card statement. There were listings of designer sneakers and leather coats, five-hundred-dollar bottles of cologne, gold watches, belts, and enough clothes to redo hers and Sandy’s closets combined. 
     “Ten, twenty…” Jenny counted, her eyes widening, “They let him rack up almost thirty thousand dollars in debt!”
     “What the hell kind of credit score does this guy have?” Sandy joked.
     “I don’t know,” Jenny said flippantly, “but whatever it was, it’s in the toilet now.” 
     “What else? What else?” Sandy chanted.
     “Um…” Jenny waded through the remaining envelopes, “All that’s left is a couple hospital bills, something from the state, and something from another bank.”
     “Open it! Open it!”
     “Sandy…” Jenny said with a wry smile tugging at her lips as she tilted her head, her eyes pleading playfully into the camera. “The credit cards were one thing…”
     “You’ve already opened one of his bank letters,” Sandy rationalized. “What’s one more?”
     “Yeah,” Jenny defended, “but that was a mistake. I thought it was mine.”
     “And maybe he was sick!” Sandy conjured enthusiastically, while gesturing wildly with her empty wine glass, “Maybe that’s why he wasn’t able to pay his bills! He bought all this stuff, but then he got into an accident and had to stop working, and now the state is saying he’s entitled to some benefits that can help him with his bills!”
     “What?!” Jenny hollered with laugher, “That’s not what happened.”
     “Well, we won’t know until you find out.” Sandy smiled slyly at the camera as she refilled her glass of wine. “In for a penny, in for a pound!” 
     “I suppose the bank one wouldn’t be too bad,” Jenny slowly conceded, “I mean, I did already open a bank notice.”
     “Exactly!” Sandy said tipping her glass towards the camera. “Now, let’s see how much he over-drafted this time.”
     Jenny shook her head as she carefully tore open the bank letter. She leaned in close to the phone camera and said, “You are the absolute worst. You know that, right?”
     “I love you too, girl,” Sandy said with a wink. “What’s it say?”
     “Mr. Smith,” Jenny read aloud, “We are hereby informing you that all your accounts have been frozen…” Jenny and Sandy shared a knowing glance, both not the slightest bit surprised, “due to the pending investigation. The listed check deposits have been flagged by our fraud department!” Jenny gasped.
     “What?” Sandy yelled.
     “…as a full investigation is underway. Because of the deposited sums, if necessary, law enforcement may need to be involved. Please contact… He’s a scammer!” Jenny shouted.
     “What?!” Sandy yelled again. She then placed her wine glass down on her coffee table so she could bring the phone into closer view.
     Jenny flipped through the attached check copies. “I think he forged these signatures or made fake checks.” She held up the copies as close to the camera as possible.
     Sandy sat in disbelief with one hand over her mouth. A long silence passed between them, broken only by the faint rustle of paper as Jenny pored over the letter and copies. In a calm tone, Sandy broke the quiet stalemate, “Open the state one.”
     “What?” Jenny asked with wide eyes and mouth agape.
     “Open the one from the state!” Sandy restated, urgently.
     In a panic, Jenny scrambled through the sea of opened envelopes and stacks of unfolded letters, her hands shaking as papers fluttered to the floor.

“Mail Forwarding” will be included in my collection of short stories, There Are No Heroes, which will be available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle Fall 2025.

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below:

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen!” The MC yells into the mic as they step on stage. They are greeted with massive applause and cheers.

“We have a special treat for you tonight! To close out our summer reading series, instead of our standard poetry reading of three poems, tonight we will have two poems performed four times arranged as songs.” The crowd claps and cheers loudly.

“The two poems performed here tonight,” the MC continues, “will be ‘Anxiously Avoiding You’ and ‘Imagined Love’. Both of which are featured in the collection On the Outside With You. The first version of each song will be sung in each poems original composition. While the second performance of each song will feature slight adjustments to their format, by management, to fit a standard song composition. I’m excited! Are you excited?” The crowd cheers in anticipation.

“Alright!” The MC yells. “Let’s get this show going. Please welcome to the stage our first performer.”

Anxiously Avoiding You (2023)

The audience cheers loudly as the first singer take a small bow. The MC erupts onto the stage yelling into the microphone. “Wow! What a way to start the night. Wasn’t that great folks?” The crowd cheers and whistles in response. The singer takes a few more bows before excitedly rushing off stage. “I saw the whole audience swaying to that one!” The MC says laughing, “That’s what we want to see. Yes, get into it folks!” The MC claps enthusiastically along with the crowd. “Let’s welcome to the stage our next singer. I heard this young man warming up and let me tell you – a few hearts are going to melt here tonight.” The MC chuckles then says, “Let’s give a warm welcome to our next performer. “

The singer smiles proudly as the audience stands and applauds. He takes a few bows as the MC bounds on to the stage yelling, “Yes!!!” The crowd claps in agreement. “I know you’ve created a few crushes here tonight,” The MC jokes to the singer. “Let’s give him another round of applause ladies and gentlemen. Wasn’t he fantastic?” The audience cheers in confirmation. The singer blows a few kisses into the crowd before taking a final bow and exiting stage left.

“I don’t know about you, but I think my heart melted a little bit,” the MC says laughing. “The next performance is a first for us here at In Between The Lines. We have a group act coming up onto the stage.” The crowd cheers as they regain their seats. “Please give a warm welcome to these lovely young ladies.”

Imagined Love (2024)

The audience stands and cheers as the four girls do a synchronized bow. They then each take a turn posing as the other three girls cheer for their groupmate. The MC runs up on stage just as the crowd regains their seats and yells, “I loved that! Didn’t you love that, ladies and gentlemen?” The audience claps in agreement. “They seriously need to bring back singing groups, am I right?” The MC joins the audience in applauding as the four girls wave while exiting stage left. “I can’t believe our night is already coming to a close. But, don’t worry! We’re ending on a good one. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our final singer of the night.”

The final performer takes off her black cowboy hat and takes a deep bow to a standing ovation. “Got-damn!” The MC yells as they excitedly jump on stage. “Everyone was on their feet with that one! Yes, ma’am!” The singer blushes while laughing and trying to cover her face with her hat. “Wow! Let’s hear it for her and all our performers tonight!” The audience yells and cheers. “Can we have all our performers back on stage!” The crowd cheers as all six singers awkwardly squish onto the small platform. “This is the most people we’ve ever had up here at once,” The MC says laughing. “Let’s give it up for them one more time! Yes!!!”

The audience claps, cheers, hoots and hollers, as the performers wave and bow. After a few rounds of cheers they all exit stage left.

“What a great evening ladies and gentlemen! And what a way to end the season!” The audience claps in agreement. “Though the songs are not available for purchase, as always, all the poems sung here tonight are available in their written form in the lobby.” The MC continues as the crowd applauds, “If you’ve enjoyed tonight’s performances, please tell your friends and we’ll see you back here next summer.” The audience cheers and claps.

“We’ve had a wonderful evening with you folks and we at In Between the Lines thank you for your continued support. Get home safe and goodnight!”

If you enjoyed hearing my poems and want to experience more, click the image below to see all posts that include a poetry reading.

If these poems resonated with you, you'll find a curated selection of my poems on Substack by clicking the typewriter below

I’ve decided not to include short blurbs for this collection. As much as I loved it for On the Outside With You and how I wished I had done it for Capricorn Moon, for this one, I thought I better not. The collection length is already longer than I had initially intended, so adding an extra five pages wasn’t going to do me any favors. Instead, I decided to share them with you all here so you could get a feel for what the six stories are about.

I hope you enjoy the blurbs for the short stories to be included in There Are No Heroes. Happy reading!

I’ll Argue That (2024)

This story came to me after a lengthy discussion with a very good friend one afternoon. It was a political conversation surrounding whatever mainstream media was pushing as hot and exciting at the time. We talked about the genuineness of some of the commentators in regards to the topic at hand. Because it often seemed like the more successful personalities kind of just went along with whatever was popular opinion. And that raised questions between us; do these people really believe the ideas they so passionately tout online? Or are they just following the money? Are they just trying to win a virtual popularity contest? Who are they actually hurting with their wayward, bought and paid, for opinions? A person can be smart but a group of people less so. Mob mentality is a real thing, and social media is both the gas and the match. And especially in a prolific time for instant gratification, no one is doing the research, no one is fact checking. Younger generations used to make fun of older generations for believing everything they saw online or on TV; but a lot of people do the exact same thing whenever their favorite commentator/influencer says anything. Not enough people are stepping back and asking, "Why are they saying this? Do they really believe this?" Or like the main character of my story, are they just willing to say any and everything to make that cash.

Did You Hear About Tammy’s Cousin (2025)

If DIY therapy were a short story. This piece is, regrettably, steeped in lived experience; not just of my own, but people I've known, and most unfortunately, some who are no longer with us. A friend of mine went through a true-crime phase briefly, and as I was watching one with them that centered on domestic violence and abuse, I found myself extremely triggered. Too many circumstances felt familiar, too many situations rang bells in my head. I sat quietly watching, internally seething the entire time. Feeling old feelings, remembering confidences that were spoken to me, and memories of horrific avoidable news; I couldn’t sleep all night. It nagged at me like a fly at my ears. I couldn’t let it go until I got it out. This story is the result, and with it, I invite you to consider this question: “Did You Hear About Tammy’s Cousin?”

There Are No Heroes will available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle fall 2025.

Antihero’s Arch

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below.

A couple months ago, I came across an article by a writer who claimed to have written the entire piece by hand. I say "claimed" because I was reading the digital article on my phone, and there was no way to verify this, as I don't recall her posting any pictures to prove the fact otherwise. Allowing her grace and the benefit of the doubt, I accepted this and continued on out of curiosity. The point of the opinion piece was basically digital fatigue; specifically, as it relates to AI and writing.

She brought up examples like Lena McDonald leaving prompts in her books. Generalizations about writers becoming lazy. Students using AI to do their work and teachers having to turn to AI tools to help them catch offenders (very cat and mouse-esque). So, in an act of rebellion, she was making a case for the analog. Pen and paper or bust!

And I get it. As a writer, you have these big dreams of sharing your ideas, feelings, and stories with the world but everyone around you is telling you that AI can do it better – so what's the point? Bleak. But the point is AI is a tool not a takeover (*side-eye*… at least I hope not).

As a species, we have a rich and colorful history of trepidation over new tech. Let's take the printing press as an example. Some of the popular fears were a threat to jobs specifically for scribes and copyists, misinformation via the capability to mass produce text, and information overload from the abundance of books causing chaos and confusion.

Now let's fast forward to the word processor. No, not Microsoft Word – I mean the OG word processors like Electric Pencil, WordStar, and WordPerfect. Some of the common fears at that time were a threat to jobs especially for typists and secretaries (oh, would you look at that), that the ease of writing would create lazy writers (sounds familiar), and the possible loss of creativity and authenticity in writing (just imagine).

As a collective, we really do love a good repeat on a playlist, don't we? Almost 600 years of advancement in writing but we're still crying the same cries. Makes you wonder what the first critics of fire were worried about. Maybe that less chewing would make us lazy.

If you want to check out the chat I used for quick research click here

As someone who uses AI just about every day, trust me when I say, it's not going to out write you. If you put a prompt into a chat and it spits out something you genuinely feel is better than anything you could have ever written, then there are a couple of drawing boards you need to get back to. Because everything I've seen, even from the best models, are mediocre at best. And this is not me saying, "I'm the best writer so I should know good writing." No, absolutely not. This is me saying, "I'm a human and I know depth and color when it's missing."

Because the best things about AI chats are that they are excellent at knowing all the rules of writing and grammar. They have every reference available to them in order to learn what patterns are considered good and correct. The downside to that is they aren't very good at breaking those rules. And if there's one thing a creative human brain supercomputer is going to do is, it's gonna break some rules.

Watch me get the memory of this quote off the tip of my tongue in this chat

The complexity of humanity is, as much as we are hardwired to conform out of safety, we are also equipped with upgrades to rebel. And even for those who don't actively participate in rebellion, there is an appreciation for those who do, especially when it's done with style and finesse.

Case in point: Impressionism was absolutely dragged when it first came out. They called it sloppy, unfinished, and lacking technique. They broke the rules of perspective, composition, and form. But now we have Monet's Water Lilies, Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and Degas' ballerinas.

Click here to watch Gemini check me on Impressionism's place in art history and its impact on breaking the rules (Impressionism is my favorite movement btw, I refer to it often in my image generations)

Similarly, in the literary arts, writers have the limitless potential of style built on substance and life experience. ChatGPT doesn't have the lived experience of growing up broke in the inner cities, forcing themselves to go to sleep so they wouldn't have to be awake to face hunger pains. Grok doesn't know what it feels like to be an outcast in a small town, feeling crushed and suffocated by depression and loneliness. Claude could never intimately know the joy or feel the passion of pressing its flesh against the soft warmth of the love of its life. Gemini couldn't be rendered speechless by the overwhelming beauty of rolling mountains beneath a limitless clear blue sky. That’s what we do. That’s what we're for. So, no, AI is not going to outwrite you. Just like how the printing press didn't make us all go crazy and confused with this abundance of books we don't know what to do with.

A lot of writing is research. Even as a fiction writer, it's easy to fall down a rabbit hole of research because you wanted to clarify the type of shoe that should go with a traditional coronation outfit. Or what type of gruel would have been served in an orphanage around the 17th century, because you want to make sure you describe the texture of it flying through the air as accurately as possible. Or even something as headache inducing as being sleep deprived at 4 am trying to remember if this sentence needs a colon or semicolon.

Just like how the master artists of the Renaissance had their team of apprentices and assistants, the writer is the craftsman and let AI be your research assistant. Michelangelo didn't paint everything on his own and you don't have to either.

Verifying with this chat about the relationship between master artists and assistants

This is How I Use AI

They (because I cycle between Gemini, Grok, ChatGPT, Meta, and various image and voice generators) are my research assistants, sounding boards, proofreaders, copy editors, context analysts, focus groups, illustrators, and voice actors.

I write the story or poem; I then run it through my "team". Often times, I'll run the same sample and prompt through different chats for a second or third opinion. I review the suggestions or critiques. Then it's up to me whether I want to implement any of their suggestions/changes. On average, I probably use one out of every ten suggestions or critiques. Less so when it comes to poetry. Why? Because I've found that with poetry most models will try to push you towards a formal structure and easy ABAB-ish rhyme scheme.

In regards to poetry, I use it more for context rather than structure. Essentially, if the chat can understand the theme or meaning of the poem, it reassures me that the probability of a human understanding my ramblings are pretty high. But in general, for both poetry and prose, the instant feedback is very useful and helps immensely with direction.

Here are some specific examples of how I've used AI in my writing:

My Recommendations

• In regards to writing, for sound boarding, brainstorming and analysis I prefer Gemini. I find Gemini to be the most creative and understanding of human experience.

• For hard critiques, and I mean, be honest and tell me if this is crap and how can we fix it, I prefer Grok. It always feels more unbiased and less people pleasing. Exactly what you need for honest constructive criticism.

• I will usually use ChatGPT as a second opinion to either of the previously mentioned.

• For a rah-rah squad, hands down Meta. She's my favorite ditzy cheerleader. The whole subject and meaning might go right over her head, but she's just happy to be involved and if you like it, she loves it.

And for general research any of them work beautifully. The more detailed a descriptive the better. Remember – they're code, not mind readers. So, you can't put in something like, "what's that thing that one famous guy said like a million years ago. I want to say it was a battle about an address," and get mad when the chat gives you the polite equivalent of, "the fuck did you just say?!" Props if your supercomputer human brain figured out what I was referring to by that nonsense prompt.

For image generation it depends on what I want. As someone who paints and draws in real life, I usually have a very clear idea of what I want in an image and I'll play around with different models until I get the look I’m going for (this can sometimes take me literal hours).

• But generally, Gemini's Imagen will usually get the closest to what I want in one try. The most creative yet prompt adherent. But when it doesn't – then it becomes temperamental, screwy, and annoying.

• HiDream-I1, Ideogram, and Flux are generally good even if you have to run the prompt a few times, tweaking it each generation.

• I generally don't use ChatGPT for images because it's slower and I've started to notice a common look/style to their images. I recently saw a post with a picture I was 99.9% sure was ChatGPT just from the style and composition. Which is what I would describe as a dark sterile Rembrandt copy. Sometimes very overly stylized to be purposefully moody to the point of being too obviously artificial.

• I don't personally use Midjourney. But the few times I have, I've found the images to be great. I just don't use it in my rotation of generators (I have enough to choose from). But, from what I remember of the quality, I'd put it above ChatGPT.

In conclusion, if you're a writer experiencing digital fatigue due to the overload of AI and are looking for a bandwagon to jump onto on the way to the resurgence of Analog, think about this first: the typewriter might seem cool and retro until you start looking for the backspace button, cause there isn't one. That's what wite-out was for. And forget spell check, because let's be honest, do you actually own a tangible dictionary let alone a thesaurus? Right. And don't get me started on carbon paper.

Oh, but you could just write the whole thing by hand! Yes, very cool! And then you can share your one copy with your significant other and best friend. Otherwise, yikes, you might have to jump on a computer (dread) and type it up.

I'm being a jerk, but in all seriousness, AI is not that bad. It's not that deep. And could turn out to be a life changing upgrade to your work if you gave it a chance. But emphasis on your work and your ideas. AI shouldn't be more than the touchup to your naturally vibrant color.

P.S. I ran the first draft of this post through some chats as an example of the feedback they give. See if you can point out which suggestions I ultimately implemented.

• Click here to watch Gemini clock it as my favorite writing partner

• Click here to watch Grok call me funny but snarky

• Click here to watch ChatGPT give a short third opinion

How NOT to Use AI

• Workslop: When you use AI to create your work instead of polishing YOUR work. Check out this article about being an AI “pilot” instead of an AI “passenger”

Couple of Comments I Found Online About AI

I love reading people’s different thoughtful takes on AI, especially in the creative space; other than, of course, “AI big bad! Me no likey!” I’ll probably update this gallery even after I’ve initially published this post, if I find anymore good ones.

Image Prompts

Image 1: “AI Helper” Generated using HiDream-I1. Prompt: A female steampunk scientist with curly hair talking to a steampunk android, featuring tenebrism with soft brush sfumato effect (I just realized she has 6 fingers LOL)

Image 2: “Electric Poetry” Generated using HiDream-I1. Prompt: A female steampunk scientist with curly hair sitting in a chair visibly disappointed trying to cover her ears, a steampunk android standing nearby passionately reading aloud while holding a handful of papers and gesturing wildly, featuring tenebrism with soft brush sfumato effect

Image 3: “Breaking the Rules” Generated using Google Imagen 4.0 Ultra. Prompt: A steampunk female with curly hair, with a devious and excited expression swinging a sledgehammer at a store window, a fearful, worried, steampunk android with its hands up in resistance, is standing close by behind her on the street, the store front has a sign that reads "Artistic Rules", featuring tenebrism with a soft brush sfumato effect, photo realistic image

Image 4: “I Don’t Get it” Generated using HiDream-I1. Prompt: A steampunk female with curly hair standing on a hill with both hands on her hips happily admiring beautiful majestic mountains, a confused steampunk android standing, shrugging their shoulders and hands in a gesture of confusion, featuring tenebrism with soft brush sfumato effect

Image 5: “Research Assistant” Generated using HiDream-I1. Prompt: A female steampunk scientist with curly hair, walking through a laboratory, excitedly lecturing, while a tired steampunk android follows closely with arms full of books and overflowing scrolls, featuring tenebrism with soft brush sfumato effect

Image 6: “Me and the Team” Generated using Grok Imagine. Prompt: A female steampunk military general with curly hair, proudly standing in front of three steampunk androids standing at attention, featuring tenebrism with soft brush sfumato effect

Image 7: “Back to Basics” Generated using HiDream-I1. Prompt: A steampunk female with curly hair standing, excitedly giving instruction to a confused steampunk android sitting at a desk trying to use a typewriter, featuring tenebrism with a soft brush sfumato effect

If you found this helpful, click the image below for more of my personal writing tips and strategies!

Glass clinks behind the bar as light murmurs and laughter decorate the air. The three-man band play smooth jazz as late comers find their seats in the dark. A solitary spotlight focuses on a microphone center stage, and the crowd erupts into applause. The MC casually walks onto the platform and takes a seat at the empty stool, smiling, with crossed arms as the music dies away. “Would you look at this crowd,” they say delightfully. The audience cheers in response.

The MC stands to formally greet the patrons, “It’s so great to have you with us this evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to another reading at In Between the Lines.” The crowd applauds and cheers. “We have a wonderful line up this evening. I’m so excited. Tonight’s theme is Growing Together. All poems featured this evening will be about growth and pushing you to be better. Did my ex set this up?” The MC casually jokes; the audience laughs in response.

“But, seriously,” the MC corrects, “I can’t wait to be inspired. How about you?” The crowd cheers in answer. “So, let’s stop this stalling and welcome our first reader of the evening to the stage.”

Can We Talk (2025)

The audience cheers as the first reader takes a bow. “Wow!” The MC says as they step back onto the platform. “I feel like you just checked all our egos at the door.” The audience laughs in response. “We better get ourselves together, am I right, folks?” The reader lightly blushes before waving goodbye to the audience and exiting stage left. “Give them another round of applause – that was great!” The crowd continues to cheer.

“Let’s keep this going!” The MC yells as they enthusiastically jump up and down. “Please welcome to the stage our next reader.”

Stepping Forward (2024)

Our second reader takes a graceful bow as the audience cheers. “Hell, yeah!” The MC yells as they walk back onto the platform. “Look out world! Here I come!” The audience laughs along with the reader. “That was great, wasn’t it ladies and gentlemen? Let’s give them another healthy round of applause.” The reader take another bow before hurrying off stage left.

“I feel like we should all sign up to a marathon or something, right?!” The MC asks the laughing patrons sitting up front. “This guy’s in!” The MC says pointing to a man pumping his fists into the air. “Wow! I love this theme.” The audience cheers in response. “Okay, okay!” The MC says smiling. “Let’s welcome to the stage our final reader of the evening.”

Curse of an Ambitious Mind (2022)

The crowd stands and cheers as the final reader takes a bow. “That got me pumped!” The MC yells as they make their way back onto the stage. The reader laughs in response. “I’m serious,” the MC continues as the audience cheers, “I feel like I could conquer the world! What about you, folks?” The audience cheers louder. “Let’s give it up for them one more time!” The room continues to cheer as the reader bows. “Actually, lets have all our readers back on stage!” The MC yells.

The two other readers quickly join them on the platform. All three take a collective bow as the audience continues to applaud. After a few more bows the three readers exit stage left in single file.

“I needed this theme like a shot of expresso in the morning!” The MC calls out into the room. “What do you think, folks?” The crowd hoots and cheers. “Did you enjoy yourselves tonight?” The crowd collectively yells “Yeah!”

“Alright! That’s what we like to hear!” The MC yells back. “We had such a great evening with you all tonight. Now, if you want to take these poems home, unfortunately the first two won’t be available until fall 2026 in the next collection, Everything in Between. But our last poem is available in the lobby in Capricorn Moon. So, grab you one and read your cup of expresso in the morning!” The crowd laughs. The MC continues, “And as always, If you’ve enjoyed tonight’s readings, please tell your friends and we’ll see you back here next month. We have a very special theme coming up to close out the season. No spoilers! I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait. It’s going to be a big one!” The audience cheers and claps.

“We’ve had a wonderful evening with you folks and we at In Between the Lines thank you for your continued support. Get home safe and goodnight!”

If you enjoyed hearing my poems and want to experience more, click the image below to see all posts that include a poetry reading.

If this poem resonated with you, you'll find a curated selection of my poems on Substack by clicking the typewriter below

I’ve never been a happily ever after type of person. I find stories where everything ties into a neat bow by the third or final act kind of boring. I get that it’s supposed to be a satisfying completion for the reader, but they never were for me. Life doesn’t end with “and they lived happily ever after. The end.” Life is a roller coaster.

There will always be hills and valleys. Good days, bad days. Just when you think things are finally going right, everything suddenly gets that much harder (I call those moments leveling up). And that’s great! Yes, it sucks – but that’s real.

One of the tropes I hate the most is the good guy saving the day. For one, I hate when they make the good guy so obviously perfect and wholesome (barf). No one is all good, just as no one is all evil. Humans are complex, hypocritical, compassionate, well meaning, selfish, assholes. We are all those things to someone, but often not to everyone. And secondly, the reality is no one is saving the day. No one is saving you. Spoiler alert… there are no heroes.

I believe that when someone relies on being rescued from X they are ultimately giving up agency of their happiness/success/whatever to said hero. So, if they never arrive, you can never be happy? Cool, so everything is everyone else’s fault. Got it.

Maybe it’s because I’m a perpetual over analyzer, but that’s what the “sell” of happy endings always felt like for me, even as a kid. And that’s coming from a Disney kid whose favorite princess was Pocahontas. Because no, she didn’t end up with John Smith even though she saved him – and I fucking loved that!

All that to say, the stories I’ve selected for this collection walk along those same ideas. The themes of the short stories are either you have to save yourself, because no one is coming to rescue you, or sometimes the good guys aren’t all that good.

You can preview the stories below, but I’ve held back the endings for publishing in the fall (evil laugh...).

1. I’ll Argue That (2024)

2. The Feast (2024)

3. Did You Hear About Tammy's Cousin (2025)

4. Accounting Hazards (2025)

5. A Late Night at the Office (2024)

6. Mail Forwarding (2025)

There Are No Heroes will be available on Amazon in paperback and for your kindle Fall 2025.

Story Blurbs

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below.

Callused hands
Aching feet
Lay the roads and pave the streets

Hammering nails
Pouring concrete
Satisfied work closed and complete

Brown-stained hands 
With fertile soil
Growing green its weight in oil

Transportation
In cultivation
Moving markets in anticipation

Pushing paper
And cutting checks
Meet and greets while stacking decks

Clacking fingers
Typing away
The simple music of the everyday

“A Quiet Dignity” will be included in my next poetry collection Everything in Between.

If this poem resonated with you, you'll find a curated selection of my poems on Substack by clicking the typewriter below

     The elevator doors opened to a wide corridor. Music hit Geri’s senses like an electric starburst. They stepped out onto the deep raspberry colored carpet. The walls finished in black satin wallpaper with delicate silver pinstripes sparkled in the moonlight reflected from the floor to ceiling windows on Geri’s left. The city street below twinkled like a beautifully chaotic Lite-Brite board. The music blared up and down with the opening and closing of two double doors at the far end of the hall as people moved between the two spaces. 
     The hallway was buzzing with guests glimmering in their holiday black tie attire. Geri anxiously joined the line for the coat check on the right. As people filed in behind them, an overwhelming feeling of being underdressed filled their stomach. Geri eyed the silver elevator doors longingly. 
     “Hey, Ger!” A voice called from up ahead. It was Rolan waving frantically from the front of the line. Michael, standing beside him, turned and joined Rolan in beckoning Geri to them. 
     A flush rose up Geri’s neck as people began to turn and search for the subject of their attention. Geri hastily made their way to the front of the line to join the duo. 
     “You made it!” Rolan exclaimed as he happily greeted Geri.
     “Everyone looks so great,” Geri said tensely. “This is all I had last minute.” 
     “Nah, you look fine,” Rolan said with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 
     “Don’t even worry about it,” Michael said as he handed all three coats to the coat clerk. “In about an hour everyone will be too drunk to even notice.”
     “Besides,” Rolan began as the trio made their way over to the guest check-in table, “you said you might leave anyway, so who cares what anyone thinks!”
     “I guess you’re right,” Geri said with a timid smile. 
     Michael leaned in and whispered, “Fuck ‘em.” Geri laughed and began to feel at ease. 
     “Well, look who it is,” said a smiling woman sat behind a wide table covered in small white place cards, “if it isn’t the Finance Bros and…” she looked to Rolan for a hint.
     “And…” Rolan continued with a playful nod, “Geri with a J.”
     “Oh! That’s right,” she said with a knowing chuckle as she checked off a name on her clip board. She then looked over the place cards and picked one up and handed it over to Geri. “Have fun Jerry,” she said with a wink. 
     Rolan pushed open the double doors and a wave of festive energy filled their senses. The music reverberated through the air. A lightshow delicately danced across the room illuminating smiling guests and a high draped ceiling with tasteful twinkling lights. The tables were decorated with lush winter flower arrangements and beautiful tableware. Waitstaff moved gracefully through the crowd with trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. Geri’s eyes were wide with awe as they said, “I feel like I’m at a fancy wedding.” 
     “Yeah,” Rolan said with a smirk, “The C-suite loves to throw a good party.”
Michael nudged Rolan in the arm and gestured towards the bar, “First stop,” he said with a wide mischievous smile.
     The trio wasted no time making their way over to the first of two bars in the large hall. A glimmer of gold caught Geri’s attention out of the corner of their eye. A gold curtain was set up in a corner near the entrance for guests to have their pictures taken by a professional photographer. Some of the sales team were gathered together making funny faces as the photographer shouted directions at the group. A waiter politely stopped Geri with a tray of tantalizing treats. 
     Geri excitedly selected a mushroom and caramelized onion polenta canape and wasabi shrimp with avocado on rice cracker. The savory tastes exploded in their mouth, and they could barely hold in an audible “Yum!” 
     “Wow!” Geri thought to themselves, “They really do know how to throw a party.” As they finished their last bite, Geri quickly caught up to Rolan and Michael already placing orders at the bar. 
     “We’re starting off classy tonight,” Rolan said with a cheeky smile. 
     “You want a martini too?” Michael asked. 
     “Oh, sure,” Geri said hesitantly, “Were we supposed to get drink tickets or something? How much is it?”
     Michael laughed and said, “It’s open bar – don’t worry.”
     “Did someone say drink tickets?” A voice from behind said as a hand landed softly on Geri’s shoulder. A startled Geri looked beside them to find a smiling Henry in a sharp tuxedo. “Someone tell the newbie that’s not how we roll around here,” Henry said with a wink. “We work hard, and we…”
     “Play hard…” Rolan and Micheal answered simultaneously while lifting their glasses in solidarity. 
     “How are you liking things, Geri?” Henry asked.
     “Oh, it’s a great party, sir,” Geri answered. “One of the best office parties I’ve been to, for sure.”
     “No, no,” Henry said with a chuckle, “The company,” he clarified. 
     “Oh, yes.” Geri said as the blood rushed to their face. “Everything’s fine so far,” they lied.
     “That’s great!” Henry replied. 
     “Ahem…” Rolan said loudly, clearing his throat. He caught Geri’s glance and nudged his face in Henry’s direction, trying to urge Geri to be more forthcoming.
     “Well, actually…” Geri meekly began.
     “You know,” Henry quickly interrupted, “I took a quick look at your resume before HR brought you on, and I must say I was…”
     “There you are!” A voice half shouted as it tugged on Henry’s arm from behind. It was the tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman from the bar – Mrs. Liam. “The line’s gone. Let’s go before the R&D team get there.” She was pointing to the glimmering golden curtain in the corner.
     “Okay, okay!” Henry quickly replied with a laugh. “I’ll see you all later,” he said to the trio. “Enjoy the party and don’t…” Henry said directly to Geri, “don’t let these guys get you into trouble.”
     “Right!” Geri said with a forced laugh as they watched Henry walk off with Mrs. Liam. “It was nice meeting you…”

Let’s start this story from the top. Click the image below to check out part one of this series.

Ready to dive into more stories? To find the next installment and my complete story series click the book stack below:

I was going through my inbox one night and I found a letter in my drafts I had written to someone after a big fight many moons past. It was one of those moments where I spilled all my feelings out but had the forethought enough to think, “maybe, let’s not send this right away.” So, there it sat, forgotten, waiting to be found on a night I was looking for something completely unrelated.

But reading through the words again, the feelings of that fight came rushing back like a wave. It didn’t reignite old emotions, in the sense that I was going to pick up the phone and start yelling at someone, “How dare you make me feel XYZ again?!” But I definitely remembered the state of the person who wrote it. The same heart strings were plucked as my eyes passed over those words and I gave myself the space to shed a few tears in remembrance of those old feelings.

After closing out and moving on with my night, it made me think of all the other things I’ve written that I generally make conscious efforts not to reread because of the emotions and memories they might evoke. There are some poems in On the Outside With You that I deliberately skip when I flip through the pages and will never write a Between the Lines for. Yet I shared them none-the-less in case someone else might find comfort in those words, even if I don’t have the nerve to face them anymore.

And, just as I normally do when faced with big emotions and reflection, I wrote a poem about it. “Everything in Between” is the titular poem for my next collection of poems. The poem itself is a reflection on that moment of reading old words and feeling old feelings.

Hard to go back to a place 
That was meant to be left on a page

As I read you over again
A piece inside my chest aches 

As depressing as that topic sounds, I also had fun with its composition. I tried to create this cascading effect where the line before connects to the line following with either a word, a meaning, or simply its repetition.

I see you and my heart breaks
Like a heart molded out of sand 
It crumbles through my fingers 
And passes through my hands

In the first stanza I connect the word heart by repeating it in the first and second line. I then connect molded and crumbles in the second and third. Then in the third and forth I use fingers and hands.

A heart break so subtle
Like a whisper of a wince
To be hurt by words I've written
Marked between the lines of print

Some of the connections are more obvious than others. Then there are the ones that you have to think of the word and its meaning through its action to better see the connection. For example subtle and whisper are connected through the act or perception of a whipster. Think of the delicacy of a whisper and the connection of subtle makes more sense.

While wincing out of pain therefore makes a connection with hurt. And finally, written and print are obvious in their connection.

I continue this cascading pattern, or vibe, through to the end of the poem. In my head it felt like a staircase where I couldn’t move down onto the next step until I formed the connection. Ironically, it made what started out as a rather depressing poem a lot of fun to write. It also became a game or a challenge to compose. Like working out a puzzle without losing the essence of what the poem is meant to be about.

If you ever get around to reading it, see if you can pick out every connection.

“Everything in Between” will be included in my next collection Everything in Between to be released Fall 2026.

If you enjoyed walking between the lines of my work with me and getting a glimpse behind the scenes of my thought process and are interested in reading more, click the image below.

The small, intimate nightclub buzzes as the waitstaff glides gracefully through a maze of tiny tables, moving like elegant shadows in the dark. The club glows with a constellation of small lamps, illuminating smiling faces, clinking glasses, and whispered conversations. A solitary spotlight rests on the stage, waiting patiently amid the low hum of voices and the soft drift of jazz in the air. In a tucked-away corner, a three-man band plays gently, their mellow rhythms coaxing nearby patrons to sway and groove in their seats.

A light applause picks up as the MC enters from stage right. "It's great to see you all here tonight. I'm seeing a lot of familiar faces as well as a few new ones. Welcome everyone to In Between the Lines." The crowd applauds lightly. "We've gotten such great feedback from our last readings that management has decided to make this a regular series. Isn't that great folks?!" The crowd applauds enthusiastically. "Yes! All of that!" The MC cheers along with the crowd. "You guys keep showing up and we'll keep showing out." The MC laughs before finally signaling the audience to settle down.

"Some of the most consistent comments we've gotten is how much you all love the themed nights. So, it's my pleasure to announce that tonight's theme is 'Time Heals'. All the poems tonight will be about the other side of loss, that all too relatable grief." The crowd applauds lightly. "Now, I know that sounds like quite a heavy and intense topic, but I promise you, we have some great readers tonight. They will move and sooth you – just you wait!"

Now, whether it's a lost love or a lost someone, our poems are bound to strum some heart strings. Our first poem of the night was featured in the poetry collection, On the Outside With You, and it talks about the grieving process at the end of a relationship. Most, if not all of us, can relate to a broken heart and losing someone special in our lives. But it's not just about losing a companion, it's also about losing all that could have been. Everything that you guys planned together, along with the memories of the past. This poem goes out to all the unfortunate members of the broken hearts club. Ladies and gentlemen please put your hands together and welcome our first reader to the stage.”

Losing What Could Have Been (2024)

The audience applauds as the first reader takes a humble bow. The MC returns to stage reaching out for the first reader's hand in a congratulatory handshake. Turning to face the audience, with wide excited eyes, the MC says, "Wow, I felt that! What about you ladies and gentlemen? Let's give our reader a big round of applause." The MC leads the audience in this gesture.

The reader bows their head humbly before exiting stage left. The MC subtly signals the crowd to silence. "I don't know about you, but I got a couple of big flashbacks that hit me right in the gut with that one." The MC laughs coyly. "Let's move this happy train right along with our next poem of the evening. This next poem is less about grief than it is about a haunting. It was first published in the anthology collection, Capricorn Moon, and then featured again in On the Outside With You. This piece moves past the initial stage of grief and into the phase where they're trying to move on. But unfortunately, for the narrator, those lingering memories have a way of just latching on to the heart.

Who doesn't have an ex or two whose memory overstayed it's welcome? Wasn't there a movie about that? Where they got to erase the memory of their crazy relationship. Sign me up!" The audience chuckles along. "I bet the narrator of our next poem wishes they could do that. Without further ado, let's give a warm welcome to our next reader."

Haunted Chambers (2021)

The second reader takes a dramatic bow center stage. The MC joins them in the spotlight applauding along with the audience. "Chills! Absolute chills!" The MC says to the reader while pointing at the visible goose bumps on their arm. "Wasn't that wonderful, folks?" The second reader makes a grand theatrical gesture before exiting stage left. "What a great reading," the MC continues. "I definitely felt haunted by the ghost of past love. Don't you?" The audience laughs.

"Now our final poem of the night is a touching piece about the empty space a dearly departed leaves behind. This poem will be featured in the upcoming collection, Everything in Between. It’s a heartfelt piece exploring the feelings of loss and reconciling life going forward without the narrator's loved one. Please join me in welcoming to the stage our third and final reader of the evening."

An Ocean of Cotton (2025)

The audience roars to applause. The third reader begins to hastily bow and attempts to step off stage quickly. “Hold on, hold on!” The MC calls out, “Not so fast! Let’s have all our lovely readers back on stage.” The crowd cheers in agreement. The third reader reluctantly walks back to center stage as the two previous readers step back on to the platform. They all hold hands and take a collective bow with the second reader adding a dramatic flourishing hand movement. The audience claps enthusiastically. After two more bows the readers exit stage left in a single file.

“What a great evening ladies and gentlemen. As always, all the poems read here tonight are available for purchase in the lobby.” A stage manager quickly signals the MC offstage. “Oh, yes!” The MC corrects, “all except Everything in Between. That will be available Fall 2026. Thank you, team, for reminding me.” The MC chuckles. “If you’ve enjoyed tonight’s readings tell your friends and we’ll see you back here next month. Our next poetry theme will be 'Growing Together’. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait!” The audience cheers and claps.

“We’ve had a wonderful evening with you folks and we at In Between the Lines thank you for your continued support. Get home safe and goodnight!”

If you enjoyed hearing my poems and want to experience more, click the image below to see all posts that include a poetry reading.

If this poem resonated with you, you'll find a curated selection of my poems on Substack by clicking the typewriter below

	“He’s here! He’s here!” A bright voice echoed as it burst into the dimly lit bedroom. Handmaidens hurried around the grand, ornately decorated space like busy bees quickly drawing window curtains and filling washing basins as the princess hastily stepped towards the large canopy bed. “You can’t still be sleeping!” She said with a huff.
	A drowsy moan from within the silken cocoon groaned, “Go away!”
	“Cepsis, get up! He’s here!” The princess yelled as the velvet curtains were rapidly drawn open at her command on the grand mahogany bed.
	“Don’t you ever knock, Sircas?” Cepsis replied in a sleepy whisper.
	Sircas smiled at her weary cousin as she lay swimming in her long silky brown hair. Sircas quickly knelt at Cepsis’ bed side and whispered gently into her ear as she lovingly pet her cousin’s long flowing locks, “The Rex has just arrived on the island. He is having wine with my father as we speak,” Sircas spoke softly as she lovingly stroked her cousin’s hair. “And who do you think has accompanied him? Hmm… I wonder? Could it be none other than his trusted advisor? Now what was his name again?” She asked playfully.
	Cepsis’ eyes flashed open. Pirosnoç. Tall, handsome, with beautifully rich, sienna skin. His eyes were a sparkling blue like she had never seen in all her life. His hair was stark white and held in a single braid that fell down the back of his silk embroidered robes. Ever since she first laid eyes on him three years ago on an official visit with her uncle, the chieftain, she hasn’t stopped thinking of him. And his smile, “Oh his smile,” she thought. When he smiled, his taut brown skin created these two delicate smiling lines around his mouth and her knees would absolutely melt.
	“And if you don’t get up right now,” Sircas said through gritted teeth, “you will never forgive yourself for it and I will never let you forget it as well!”
	“Sircas!” Cepsis yelled as she sat straight up in her bed, “Don’t just sit there! How dare you make me keep Piros waiting.” Cepsis jumped up from her bed and quickly began to yell for her handmaidens. Sircas sat laughing and replied with a smirk, “I thought so.” 

	“Archonrex Céracas, I marvel each time I visit your islands.”
	Céracas raised an eyebrow at the king, “Archonrex,” the chieftain said with a chuckle. “You must certainly have a most serious matter to bring to me if we are using such formalities, Rex Giren.” 
	Rex Giren laughed in replied, “Céracas, my old friend. What is more serious than the prosperity of Koi Cove?
	Céracas sat back in his chair as he rolled his eyes with a laugh, “Go on, Giren. As you always do.”
	“You make it trivial, Céracas. But I bring to you once again that you should greatly reconsider my offer of combining the Coves with the mighty strength of Awert Sala.”
	Céracas smiled politely and replied, “Rex Giren, you know my answer already. I give you the same one each time you come. Koi Cove has now and always will be a sovereign realm.” He shrugged as he smiled, “That is how it has always been, from my father to my father’s father, and their fathers before them. My forefathers fought just as hard to combine the island tribes as the Great Rex Rai did to join the Realm of Rai. We have as much right to autonomy as Awert Sala, Rai, and Baratum.”       
	The Rex laughed heartily as he gently slapped an arm around the chieftain’s shoulder, “That’s what I love most about you Céracas, your loyalty knows no bounds, and your stubbornness is frustratingly refreshing.”
	“I am glad you see it that way, Rex.”
	“One day,” Giren playfully wagged a finger at the chieftain, “One day! You will see that I am right and that Koi Cove would be better served under my kingdom.”
	“We’ll see about that,” Céracas joyfully replied.
	“One day! Isn’t that right, Piros?” Giren commented towards his trusted advisor, the Water Keeper. 
	“We shall see, indeed,” Piros replied through a smile. “Maybe once the activities have begun, we could further illustrate to you the many benefits the Cove could gain in a solidified union with Awert…”
	“Oh, no you don’t!” Céracas laughed, “Is that his true purpose, Giren? To form a team against me?”
	Rex Giren smiled as he looked away.
	“I knew you were up to no good, old friend,” Céracas responded. “To think I almost believed you when you said you only brought Piros because he wanted to see the Water Flying Games. So, it isn’t for the love of sport after all.” The archonrex chuckled, “By a witch’s eye you are sly!”
	“Céracas, you think too little of me,” the Rex said with a grin. “Of course we are here primarily to watch the games, but a little talk never hurt… Is that?” Rex Giren suddenly turned his attention to the opening of the large elaborately draped tent. “That can’t be...”
	The three men rose from their finely decorated cushioned chairs as three servants pulled away their seats. 
	“Is this Sircas? How lovely you have grown!” The Rex opened his arms to greet her.
	“It is wonderful to see you again, Rex Giren,” Sircas smiled as she fell into the king’s embrace. “Álo, father,” she said as she kissed Céracas’ cheek.
	“And you are certainly dressed for the festivities,” The Rex commented on her white shimmering silk gown and her haloed pearl headband with its dripping blue emeralds. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shine so bright.”
	“Thank you, Rex Giren,” Sircas replied, bowing her head in gratitude.
	Piros suddenly cleared his throat.
	“Excuse my rudeness, Sircas,” The Rex exclaimed. “You have met Pirosnoç before, haven’t you?”
	“Once before, yes,” Sircas said as she bowed before the Keeper. “Álo, Pirosnoç. It is wonderful to see you again.”
	“Likewise,” Piros smiled and bowed his head in return.
	“Will you be joining us for wine, Sircas?” Her father motioned for a servant to bring over another glass.
	“Oh no, father. Actually,” Sircas began as she carefully signaled Cepsis to approach from the tent’s opening, “I’ve only stopped in because my cousin wished to bring you greetings, Rex Giren.”
	“Is that so?” The Rex questioned.
	“Cepsis, come forth!” Céracas called out. “You remember her, Giren, my late brother’s only child.”
	“Ah yes! The beautiful Cepsis,” The Rex remembered.
	Cepsis stepped out from behind the draping. She wore a similar silk gown, only a pale blue instead of white, with a string of pearls belted around her waist and a bare haloed pearl band around her head.
	The cousins’ brown hair was very similar, only Cepsis’ fell beyond her hips. Her skin was ivory white, while Sircas’ was a light caramel like her father’s. 
	As she walked into the large candlelit tent, Cepsis’ almond shaped brown eyes locked instantly on to Piros.
	“Álo, uncle,” Cepsis said as she kissed Céracas’ cheek.
	“Álo, my darling,” He replied.
	“Greetings great Rex Giren,” Cepsis bowed before the king.
	“Great Rex! How you’ve aptly flattered me,” Giren replied. “Greetings, my child,” He said as he then motioned instantly to his advisor. “May I introduce to you Pirosnoç.”
	Piros smiled, “I believe we have met once before.” He instantly replied before Cepsis had a chance to answer.
	“Why, yes,” Cepsis shyly smiled in return. “We have. I was a bit younger then.”
	“They were about fifteen years at the time,” Céracas commented, “If I am not mistaken.” 
	“And look at them now,” Giren responded, “shimmering like two beautiful pearls.”
	“Will you be joining us as we watch the games?” Piros asked Cepsis as Céracas had the servants make room for the two girls.
	After a long pause, Sircas replied for her cousin, “Oh yes,” sensing that her cousin’s tongue had gone limp. “Cepsis loves the Water Flying Games.”
	“Is that so?” Piros smiled at the suddenly quiet girl.
	“Yes,” Sircas continued on her cousin’s behalf, “why, in fact Cepsis herself is quite a skilled water flyer.”
	Cepsis instantly shot her cousin a stern glance.
	“Really?” Piros crossed his arms as he smiled. “Will you be competing in the games today?”
	“No, she will not!” Céracas replied as he passed the girls their glasses of wine. “Women should not be water flyers. They can be water walkers. But not water flyers, especially a girl of her ranking.”
	“That is very wise,” Rex Giren agreed.
	“That is a shame,” Piros replied.
	“Really?” Cepsis asked suddenly, as a flush rushed to her cheeks.
	“Why, yes,” Piros began to whisper as Céracas and Giren continued their earlier discussion. “I would have been very impressed to see you compete in the games.”
	A glimmer sparkled in Cepsis’ eyes as Piros stared intently. She knew that she could ride the waves as well – no, much better – than any of the athletes competing. This could be her chance to make a lasting impression, she hastily thought. 
	“Don’t even think of it,” Sircas whispered, sensing her cousin’s daring.
	“I can see that you have a lot of stubborn earth in you, Cepsis,” Piros smirked, “I would be very intrigued to see how that passion moves you on the waves of the Glacialis Sea.”
	“Alright!” Cepsis replied with a mischievous grin. Her chest raced with excitement as she leapt from her chair. Forgetting her station, she grabbed the length of her gown and let her excitement carry her legs in a sprint towards the starting grounds. 
	“Where is she going?” Céracas asked with an alerted fluster.
	“You know where, father,” Sircas giggled as she back in her chair sipping her wine. 
	“Cepsis!” Céracas called after her as she sprinted out of the tent’s exit.
	“That girl has your stubborn will, Céracas,” Giren laughed.
	“CEPSIS!”

If you enjoyed this excerpt and would like to read more from this fantasy collection click the image below.

“It’ll be fine,” the rep reassured. “It’s a very quiet team.” In an exaggerated whisper she said, “A little boring, actually.” She then laughed and playfully swatted up a hand, “No, I’m just kidding. They’re great people! They’re like a little family. They work great together. Like a well-oiled machine…”

Summary/Objective

The first time I used the phrase “Accounting Hazards” was online as a hashtag on Instagram. It was September 2014 and I posted a picture of my broken fingernail against the backdrop of an unfocused envelope stuffing machine. I remember feeling very clever because accounting is one of those quiet desk jobs where most people think all you do is punch numbers into a calculator, fill out forms, and cut checks all day long. “Hazard” probably being the farthest descriptive anyone would ever think of in relation to accounting. Not counting lifting heavy boxes at year-end for storage, cardboard paper cuts being a thing, sitting all day being as bad as smoking, and cases of carpal tunnel being so severe that they can require surgery; putting all that aside, of course.

This story is not about spread sheets and income statements, it’s about people and politics regardless of its setting. It’s a familiar microcosm those of us in the labor force are sure to relate to, whether we like it or not. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” “It’s not personal, it’s simply business.” “The same people you see on the climb up might be the same people you see on the fall down.”

Stick a rag-tag group of strangers together in an enclosed space where they are forced to perform mundane tasks for eight hours a day, five days a week, all for the glory of being able to purchase food and pay for a roof over their head and characters are bound to bubble up to the surface. Why? Because we all want to go home, the coffee machine is busted, and who the fuck microwaved fish again!?

Experience

• The Russian Trio: Oh, how I love these ladies. They are based on three actual Russian women I worked with around the same time that damn envelope stuffing machine broke my nail. They were stern and no nonsense. People were openly afraid of them and I found that beyond hilarious. They knew their jobs and they were good at it. The amount of times I cracked up when the leader of their crew (all of 5’3” at the max) would verbally cut someone down over the most minute of mistakes. Top notch entertainment! I enjoyed them so much that at one point I seriously considered learning Russian just so I could gossip with them on their lunch breaks.

• Ophelia: She is loud, full of life, always knows the office gossip, and isn’t shy to tell it like it is (mostly because she has no filter). You either love her or roll your eyes whenever she enters the space. She is a mix of a few big personalities I’ve worked with throughout the years, but most of all, she was inspired by my late Tita Ophelia. She was one of my mother’s closest friends and we lost her to illness in 2014. She was a big bright spirit, unapologetically boisterous, and it wasn’t a party without her. I never mention it explicitly, but when I write Ophelia’s dialogue I hear it with a thick accent in my head, the way my Tita Ophelia spoke. I think she would have found it absolutely hilarious that I partially based a character on her. She would have so many opinions and countless notes; the main one I imagine would be to have more scenes with Ophelia.

• Henry vs. Karen: They are the clash of the competing managers. A rivalry as old as the Industrial Revolution. I’ve seen a version of this drama play out amongst middle management countless times. I’ve seen the frenemies, the straight up enemies, the back stabbers, the saboteurs, the gossip peddlers, the knowledge gatekeepers, and the ever classic under-the-bus throwers. Is it for more money? Power? Authority? A better title? The corner office with the nicer view? Or are they just vying to be acknowledged by daddy big-boss? Either way, don’t get caught in the crossfire. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there during leadership meetings.

• Iris: She is the president of office politics. She plays the game so good you don’t even know you’re a piece on her board until it’s too late. It’s always a long con, because anything worth having requires chess not checkers. Her nose is so brown you’d think she had a contouring mishap, but no, no… it’s all according to plan. She’s scratched the right backs, was careful to step on just the right skulls, and now she’s ready to cash in.

• Rolan and Michael: Rolan is the charismatic guide for Geri/the reader. His purpose is to reveal all the players and set-up important scenes. Michael is the everyman stand-in; a grounded character and perspective. He isn’t too hot or too cold but will sometimes provide commentary that Geri isn’t brave enough to utter. They are my Jay and Silent Bob, begrudgingly adding color to the grey workspace.

• Penelope: She is the coworker of contradictions. The person you know at work is not the person you bump into at the bar three scotches deep. They know exactly what to say and how to conduct themselves accordingly during work hours (and to your face), but that is not the person who walks out into the world once they clock off. She is sweet, polite, helpful, and sometimes quirky, but also an ocean deep of cantankerous mantras like, “everyone is a fucking idiot” or “per my last email…”

• Nicole: She is “that’s not in my job description” personified. They are not about to be taken advantage of or be exploited, but they aren’t really looking for advancement either. They know their lane and stay securely within its boundaries. They are team players as long as it’s convenient. And by the time that clock strikes “shift over”, they are already halfway out the door. You get exactly what you pay for; no more and sometimes less.

Education

“So Geri,” Karen began as she sat back down, “it has come to my attention that there have been a few discrepancies…”

• Upper East Side Lessons - I once worked for a prominent civil rights attorney as a fill-in for a family friend. The friend was so close to our family that they referred to me as their niece. This friend got ill (not Tita Ophelia, someone else), and I was recommended to cover for them, basically just to keep their job available as they went through recovery. One day, I was going through the books, and I found some automatic recurring payments I couldn't account for. Being the good employee that I was, I brought these payments to everyone's attention. After some investigation, we soon realized that they were automatic payments going to the family friend. The problem being that she was not currently working and there was no standing agreement to pay her for the duration of her recovery. So, what was happening was they were paying me and her for the same time frame. Needless to say, they were not happy about this “double dipping” into the coffers for only one person’s effort of work (me… my effort). The automatic payments to the family friend were stopped and I was let go because of my association with them. I wasn’t really fired because I was just a temp filling in for a “friend”. Ergo, the foundation/inspiration for our story.

“Wasted?” Rolan laughed. “You’ve only had three drinks. Plus, this is only the first stop.” Rolan turned to the head of the table, “Where we heading next, Penny?”

“Broad Street Bar!” Penelope said as she merrily lifted her martini glass. “That’s what Ophelia and Tess said. Henry’s gonna close the bill and we’re all gonna walk over. Next stop – choo choo!” She squealed.

• Wall Street Crash Course - It was Saint Patrick’s day and our boss was feeling festive. It was towards the end of the day and only a handful of us were still clacking away at our keyboards. He stopped the floor and announced he was taking whoever wanted to accompany him out for drinks. About five or so of us decided to take him up on his offer. The bars were spilling out with stressed out stockbrokers. The city had temporarily closed off one of the smaller streets that was lined with taverns to accommodate the holiday overflow. We stopped at the first bar in the line of bars, commandeering an outside table. The drinks were soon ordered, and the night was on its way. Except it was a weird day, like a Tuesday or something and I was (am) a lightweight. I drank two drinks and was decidedly drunk. The plan was to bar-hop the entire row of drinking establishments. But no, not me, I wanted to go home. I might have been boo-ed for my decision, but ultimately, I wasn’t going to put a damper on their evening, and they bid me a fond farewell and a, “see you in the morning!” I wobbled my way to the train station with the full intention of holding my engorged bladder for the full ride home. But that wasn’t a great decision, and luckily for me I realized that before tucking in for that long trek. And yes, there were still people working late when I stopped at the office to use the bathroom. That night I learned that I can’t hang with the big boys on a weeknight and equally as important, don’t push the envelope when your bladder and an hour-long ride home on public transportation are involved.

“You still coming to the party tomorrow, right?” Rolan asked anxiously.

“I don't know. We'll see,” Geri said curtly as they excused themselves past the two and made their way to the elevators.

Ophelia looked at Rolan and huffed, “I told you to stop eating at that sandwich place.”

• Next!: The lunchtime sub-shop is basically a part of the supporting cast. Inspired by a deli I used to frequent on my way to being late every morning for work; right on the corner of Broad and Water. In the story, the sub-shop line is implied to be calm and orderly, with characters waiting patently to be served, providing ample time to reveal major plot points. In reality it was organized chaos. It was less a line, than it was staff that were very good at keeping track of which customers came in before or after the next. They kept a mental “line” in their heads. This was especially useful in the winter when people were just trying to cram in to get out of the cold. If you came in often enough you became a regular, to the point where they saw your face, shouted your order to you, and you either nodded or made some kind of signal to confirm, then just made your way through the crowd to the register to pay. My standing breakfast order was a turkey bacon, egg and cheese, with ketchup, on a roll.

• Holiday Party: I promise it’s not a MacGuffin. There is an actual party that occurs in the third act. It’s based on one of the best work holiday parties I’ve ever attended. It was held at a large banquet hall just off Union Square, with an open bar, plus a generous dinner buffet on top of the appetizer and cocktails opening event, closed out with a delightfully themed dessert buffet. The DJ was actually good and just about everyone was on their feet dancing. There were the typical, “You guys worked so hard this year…” speeches, plus door raffles and gift cards. It may sound fairly tame within the realm of office parties, but I genuinely look back on that night with fond memories.

Tech Skills

“I have one,” Penelope chirped as the waitress walked away. “Is your phone an ACC?”

“No, it’s a NIX,” Geri answered to which their entire half of the table groaned in response.

“A NIX?” Rolan asked in disbelief.

“I have a NIX too,” Michael consoled. “Ignore them. They’re all just sheep.” He said with a chuckle and dismissive eye roll.

I’m not going to say too much about this little easter egg so it can remain fun for those that know. But as someone who cracks up by repeating their own jokes to themselves, I couldn’t not mention it in a Between the Lines. This little nod is something I actively reuse in my stories, along with locations, and companies. Not to forcefully tie universes together, but more as an inside joke to myself that I love to tell… well… myself.

Soft Skills

Is Geri a boy or a girl? Geri is an indecision. Initially, when I started writing this story, I didn't think it was important to establish whether Geri was male or female, so I literally put it off until later. And due to that indecision, I named them Geri with an “i” because I thought that if I ever eventually decided to commit to Geri being a girl, it would be an easy transition; Geri could be short for Geraldine, after all. Conversely, if I eventually decided that they were in fact a boy, I thought spelling it with an “i” would just be a quirky trait I could explain away later.

But then, halfway through and I still hadn't decided! So now, I'm so deep into the story, is Geri a boy or girl? I don’t fucking know. And logistically it would be so annoying… and I mean… so, so, so, horribly annoying, to have go back and change all those pronouns. And no, a “find and replace” wasn’t going to work, because of the effort I’d still have to put in (#lazy) to make sure only Geri’s pronoun were changed and not a legitimate pluralization of characters. But the honest answer is, I still don't know if Geri is a boy or girl. Mentally, I flip back and forth between their genders when I visualize scenes, and frankly, it doesn't really matter; not to me, anyway. It’s just Geri. Good old, anxiety fueled Geri.

Publication/Presentation

I hope you enjoy this office drama. The most fun for me was creating amalgamations, caricatures of coworkers and acquaintances then throwing them all into my mental mayhem. This story will be featured in my upcoming collection of short stories “There Are No Heroes” tentatively to be released Fall 2025.

Let’s start this story from the top. Click the image below to check out part one of this series.

If you enjoyed walking between the lines of my work with me and getting a glimpse behind the scenes of my thought process and are interested in reading more, click the image below.