25-word short story

Numbers, numbers, numbers. Drowning in 1s and 0s, consumed by fractals and algorithms, intoxicated by indexes and exponents; he burns in a fire of woe.

Check out the full thread of them:

http://www.amazon.com/forum/kindle%20book/ref=cm_cd_pg_next?_encoding=UTF8&cdForum=Fx3RFWX8IMGF85E&cdPage=7&cdSort=oldest&cdThread=Tx2B90A3LJ0P4PI

Voltaire's Adventures Before Candide

Do you sometimes sit there, in your petty little chair, wondering what it all means? Why are we even upon this planet? What insane person decided to place us here and give us these meaningless, hopeless, idiotic chores to blindly complete? This bizarre story about Candide before he sat down to write Candide will not answer that question, but will at least take your mind off the screaming hell that is reality.

Warning: The following contains material which is harmful to the sane.

I'm serious. If you value any of your connections to reality, stop right here. This is not some trick to get you to keep reading, like a Lights Out episode, it's a real warning. You probably got this for free, and that's a good thing—my other work is not as all-out nutso as this piece of drivel.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007EDDVV6

Tuesday on Thursday!

Just put up my little short story about life as a short-order cook at a snack bar.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/88777

Totally free. I've pushed The Spaces Between out through Smashwords, and am just waiting for distribution through the channels, so here's a little something different.

And yes, work continues on The Dead Spaces.

In the meantime, here's a teaser, from the chapter "To Eat a Tree"

There. It looks very appealing, he thought bitterly. He swept more snow away from the rock to reveal a think, fuzzy moss that covered the gray surface. It was called Reindeer Moss, and, while somewhat slimy and gelatinous, it would certainly serve as sustenance in an emergency. Which this was. He pulled a handful off of the rock, added some snow to it, and started chewing. The thick moss nearly rose back into his throat, but he forced more down and clamped his jaw shut.

  

The inner bark of the pine would be a another starchy option. He wasn't sure his stomach could digest any of it, but the moss was starting to stick to the roof of his mouth, and each time he flicked his tongue to chew on it, the flavors of rot and decay filled his mouth. He had to press a hand under his chin to keep himself from vomiting. With another groan and protest from his ankle, he rose and stumbled to the pine tree. He extracted his knife and peeled away the outer bark, and then carefully sliced slivers from the interior. While he loved the scent of pine and the taste of pinons in the spring, the bark was stringy and downright foul. Still, he forced himself to eat until his belly was partially full. The starch would need to sustain him a little longer.

Even with his years of training, he had never imagined he would have to eat a tree.