Tom Lichtenberg
I've written a lot of stories, and one thing I've learned is that stories have a life. They want to be read, and they're brought to life by readers. Readers give them meaning, give them substance and fulfill their destinies. Stories aren't picky about who reads them. They welcome everyone. Money means nothing to them - they don't care how much the reader paid and they equally don't care how much the author made. Stories want to live and they want to be a part of your life. I often think of them as like paper boats you place upon a stream. You never know where they'll end up!
I tend to go for speculative fiction, sci-fi, satire, magical realism, post-modernism, eclectic lit, and generally stay away from horror, romance and paranormal unless there's some good humor in it. I like a light touch, with real ideas.
While a few of my stories are on Wattpad, lots more can be found (and all for free) at Smashwords.com, Feedbooks.com, Barnes and Noble, and the Apple iBookstore. If you really want to, you can also buy them cheaply on Amazon Kindle.
“If there was a God he reasoned it would have the same relation to us as we have to blades of grass. Do we make them grow? Yes in the sense that we water the lawn. Do we care for them and worry over them? Again as a lawn but not as individual blades. We don't give them names. We just want them to look nice and green. A God who created the earth would want it to look nice an blue from space. He would sit back after a long day of creating things and think to himself now that's what a planet should look like.”
“There are no lessons to be learned from the past. This is the first thing I learned from it. There is nothing back then that there isn't here now. There is nothing here now - nothing that matters - that wasn't back then. What matters. Are you a good person? Do you have any love in your heart? What would you do in a given circumstance? It all comes down to something like that.”
“What's it like to be really dead, I wonder. Tell me about it, won't you Dave?" "It's like being alive", he replied. "Only different." “What do you do for kicks?”, she asked. “No kicks”, he replied, shaking her head.”
“I thought you killed that boy", he finally grumbled. "I did kill him", Rags said. "Dead as doughnuts. Buried him too, just like you told me." "And you sprinkled the grave site with jalapenos and lemon peel?" "Lemon peel?", Rags stuttered. "I don't remember anything about lemon peel!". Dennis was silent for quite some time. Rags glanced nervously about him, wishing he was anywhere but there. He realized he'd screwed up, but the whole thing was a mystery to him. He was extremely superstitious, but even his ignorance had its limits. 'Lemon peel?' He thought to himself, 'come on, that is just ridiculous'. Dennis might have read his mind, because he spoke up in a slightly louder tone to indicate his maximum rage. "Jalapeno to burn his soul, of course. Lemon peel to keep him in the ground!”
“Nothing to it", Dennis sighed. "Find him. Chop his head off. Stick him in the ground again, and this time don't forget the orange peel." "Lemon", Rags replied. "Orange", Dennis insisted. "It's only lemon the first go around. Second time orange. Third time lime." "Third time?", Rags said nervously. "Sometimes it doesn't take", Dennis said.”