http://slow.writerscafe.org/tblakebraddy The original writings of author T. Blake Braddy en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776058333 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Marinell has an intense crush on the warrior king from the MMORPG she plays. The big problem is that she doesn't have a clue who he is. A clue from her best friend reveals he may not be who she expece http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/683173/ Two college students explore an abandoned house in the woods. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/542219/ Morning light reached in a snatched sleep away from Rolson McKane. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/348871/ A plague upon manStreets are congested with fleshPlease don't leave your home http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/348278/ Savini SavantA hunger for blood and brainsRabid Romero http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/348276/ A Postal worker breaks into a house during a school break because he thinks the house will be empty, and he finds a woman torturing a man there instead. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/345981/ She remembered standing on the roof of the High in Atlanta, looking over Peachtree more modern and unbelievable than any exhibit from the Louvre could ever be. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/345847/ The light switches made a quick, toneless song Ed thought sounded like the ESPN theme. The middle switch gave off a slightly lower sound and the first and third sounded exactly the same, so that's how he derived it. He'd never told anyone that at work, because they would probably laugh his a*s out o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/344708/ Middle School Students camping out in the woods on the night of the zombie outbreak try to get back home. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/344116/ He mulled over his choice for clothes for the appointment, fingering through all of his best shirts like a fashion designer picking through Is this the shirt you want to get cancer in? How about this one? Is this tie good for being told you have diabetes? Finally, he decided on an .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/344045/ A woman begins to receive multimedia messages from her dead husband. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/343673/ A guy gets into a confrontation with a violent gang member and then is taken into protective custody, where everything starts to go wrong. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/343671/ The dogs liked to go out at eleven. No earlier. No later. Gregory had them on such a schedule that if he took them out at any time other than eleven at night, they would stand in the grass and stare at him as if he were subjecting them to some strange test. That happened if he took them earlier than.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/341096/ A college student gets tortured when he mistakenly follows an idiot friend to what he thinks is an abandoned whorehouse. It turns out to be a converted meth lab filled with depraved junkies. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/340953/ The headaches began after Cheryl died. Warren assured himself they probably started some time before that, that watching his wife slowly succumb to the cancer which had taken her breasts and joy for life had somehow obscured the sharp pain behind his eyes. But he couldn't be certain it had anything .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/340945/ Harold Donovan's ascent to prominence. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/340312/ Rolson rides to the home where his mother is supposed to be living. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/340249/ Rolson McKane, a cop on leave because of a DUI, uncovers racism and corruption from previous decades in the town of Lumber Junction, GA. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/340248/ I am often astounded by mortality. Natural Selection. Lifestyle. I sometimes sit and wonder, like most second- and third- rate comedians (and I am no comedian, sir), why Keith Richards remains alive at the expense of younger, more cautious people. Nothing against Mr. Richards - his work on Exile on .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/339924/ I collect rejection slips. It's actually a pretty easy hobby, much easier than, say, finding obscure bugs or stamps and keeping them under glass. All you have to do to collect a rejection is to sit down and write something you absolutely adore and then send it to a person who couldn't care less abou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/339872/ The first time I became aware of my own mortality was when I got a splinter stuck in my finger during a particularly wretched episode of Jake and the Fat Man I watched with my grandmother. I don't remember the specifics of either the episode or the splinter, but I continued to worry it throughout th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/339069/ We were doing everything we could to stop the summer's end, but the summer was having none of that. Late July in Georgia, and it was threatening to hit triple digits. To keep cool, we spent our evenings in bars all over Athens, pressing ourselves into dark corners, like vampires avoiding the light. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/338205/ Guy decides to kill his wife because the bible tells him to http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/338204/ Guy tries frantically to finish a bomb shelter. Is delusional, realizes he is too late. His family is dead from the bomb. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/337429/ A Steampunk Horror Story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/337428/ The leader of a small town is a magician. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/333299/  Family         PlotFamily Plot-One-The coffin was long and black and smooth, like the sodden earth to which it would be deposited. Even the light in the church hall seemed to get lost in it, as if that was the intention all along. Vessels f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/328447/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/328445/ 'Monsters ain't easy to catch.'�Ed Grayson was sitting in a booth across from the old man ' name of Shepherd ' next to the large windows that lined the bar's outer wall. A lit Winston dangled from his dried lips, even though the ordinace signs were in plain view. NO SMOKING INDOORS: 7 A.M.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/326416/ He lived in a dusty old shack my uncle owned fifteen or twenty years ago. It was about thirty minutes outside of town off a dirt road that had no name. I knew exactly where the place was because I'd been to visit my uncle on occasion as a child.I didn't have any trouble finding it, though it too.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/326415/ 'Hey, man, I think I found something back here.'It was Gary. He was standing in the back of the garage, up to his neck in dust, when he made the discovery.They'd been cleaning ' thanks, Maureen ' in hopes of creating some room for the sale Jim's wife had planned for the upcoming weekend. So .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/326413/ Chapter FiftyThinking about shooting someone was one thing, but actually doing it required something of a person that Sydney did not know she possessed. She’d thought all night how she would do anything, perform any number of disgustingly inhuman acts, to perpetuate her own existence, even i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325909/ Chapter Forty-NineJack wobbled through the main door of the unnamed building where Sydney resided and pointed his gun in every feasible direction. The illusion of momentary safety was as thin as a silk coverlet, and he had to reconcile himself between haste and care. Time hung over him, practica.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325908/ Chapter Forty-EightNot again, she thought. Not a second time.Sydney pressed herself against the bar, using so much of her weight she thought it might tip over with her. Only a moment before, she had been sleeping, head bent forward in a state of pure and almost comatose ignorance. Hands in h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325907/ Chapter Forty-SevenFirst the feeling, then the sound, both sharp, coming from a deep, distant place, way beyond where the senses and consciousness met. Startling, frightening, and yet, for some reason, to be expected. Jack was pulled from sleep by a combination of those things, and because of th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325906/ Chapter Forty-SixThe killer awoke at dawn to the distant, organic alarm clock of his own body. A multitude of things were going awry within him, each with its own set of distinct problems without instantly gratifying solutions. He tried to distract himself with the growing light of the sun ris.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325905/ Chapter Forty-FiveJack dreamed and did not dream, slipping in and out of consciousness, dreaming dreams where he was caught dead in the car by the killer without being able to react. Waking from them with a start, not knowing how much of it was real until some time elapsed and he realized he w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325904/ Chapter Forty-FourHe tried the gauze, and it didn’t really work. It took him several of the beers, which he guzzled down greedily to help send the myriad of excruciating pains to a point more distant in his mind, a place more abstract, if it was at all possible. And it was. It took him sev.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325903/ Chapter Forty-ThreeOnce every possible avenue petered out for him, Jack doubled back, tucking his gun in his pants and checking carefully around every corner until he had made his way to Grayson’s apartment building. The sidewalks and streets had transformed from a contingent of loosely .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325902/ Chapter Forty-TwoSydney waited unhappily for the first light of morning, when she would feel at least marginally more safe than she did right now, gun or no gun. She didn’t even really know how to use the damned thing. She was aware of the hammer and the trigger mechanism, but that was abo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325901/  Chapter Forty-OneSeeing the tall, slenderish man exit Gordon’s car was enough to shock Brute out of the lull which had overtaken him on the trip to Atlanta, but he had surveyed the man with a mild sort of ambivalence, enough to tell him that it was possible Gordon was no longer a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325900/ Chapter Forty“I’m sorry, all right. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. I just wanted this f****r to get whatever was coming to him. I thought calling the cops would be a good thing. I didn’t know that it would complicate the situation. I’m sorry. I’.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325898/ Chapter Thirty-NineFor the longest time, the road was deserted. It felt like the city. Only, Brute thought, in Atlanta everybody’s there but pretends you’re not. It was one of the primary reasons he had found himself drifting farther and farther away, until he and Gordon were .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325897/ Chapter Thirty-EightThat was, without a doubt, the most surreal and horrifying thing Gordon had ever experienced in his long and sordid life. It was like being locked in a – what were those things called – deprivation chamber, with only his breathing and the darkness of the small r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325896/ Chapter Thirty-SevenBrute assumed the meeting was over, because he saw a figure appear in the doorway. It was only a silhouette, so he was unable to ascertain whether it was Gordon or not, but he had parked only a few spots away (in a car he had borrowed from a friend, of course) and had to du.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325895/ Chapter Thirty-SixWhen the men refused to untether and arrange themselves in a row against the wall like he asked, he found the oldest member of the group and shot him just below the nose. A bright red splatter dreched the wall behind the man, whose eyes went gray and dim before his head and sho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325893/ Chapter Thirty-FiveRandall refused to open the door at first, even after the wife questioned who was standing on their front porch. Through the blinds of their living room window, she could see the terrified countenance he wore, like a mask. Because it wasn’t entirely contrived. Sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325891/ Chapter Thirty-FourEven after he had spent the majority of his afternoon there, Grayson could not believe it. Not just it. All of it. Not a bit of it made any sense to him. How was the first question that popped into his mind, and it persisted through much of his search. The question was not m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325890/ Chapter Thirty-ThreeThe cab took him about five miles out 85 North before he asked the driver to pull over onto the shoulder of the road. In the rearview mirror, the cabbie’s eyes darted from the road to the killers’ own glance.“I don’t make any stops,” he said... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325888/ Chapter Thirty-TwoEver since she lost the desire to model (or do anything else productive), it was not customary for her to travel out during the light of day. As long as she had something (or someone) to keep her company, she was content to sit around and do much of nothing. Being out during th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tblakebraddy/325887/