This past year, I threw my hat in to compete in the New York City Midnight Madness Flash Fiction contest. Authors were asked to write a very short story (under 1,000 words), that contained certain criteria. For my first year competing, I did alright. Only the top five out of every group would proceed to round three — I was number six.
Since I’ve been eliminated, I am now free to share the work I contributed. This is the entry from the first round. The criteria my group was given was:
Continue reading “[STORY]: The Ballad of the Body”
Twitter has a fantastic writing community, and one of the most frequent questions asked among writers is: how do you break up writer’s block. My answer is simple. It’s a writing prompt meant to open the creative centers of my brain — that prompt:
A giraffe is testifying against a chimpanzee in a court of law for the murder of a gazelle — the giraffe accidentally confesses to the murder. Why was the giraffe trying to frame the chimpanzee and where there accomplices?
Continue reading ““The Zoodiac Killer” – The A.P. Miller Method of Busting Writer’s Block”
Even as a grown man, there is no name that sends the needles of dread traversing up my spine more than “Sylvia.” I’ve never seen her, but I am painfully aware of her — I know people who have claimed to have seen her, but never for myself. I consider myself fortunate to that degree.
To those who know of Sylvia, you know exactly where I mean when I say “Janesville Mountain.” To those unfamiliar with the cluster of sleepy mountain villages that I called home, picture a secluded road along a mountain pass obscured in shadow — it’s one hundred miles through pine trees and thin air from Pittsburgh, more than two hundred from the Philadelphia direction. It’s the kind of road that you hold your breath when you drive on it, that you turn up your radio when the sun is setting, and you opt for the extra length of the Interstate when night falls.
Continue reading “Story Time: Sylvia”
Behold, The Wicked Wind
By: A.P. Miller
Wolf Rocks, Appalachian Mountains – Halloween, 1910.
Bad magic usually comes with a few rules: utmost faith and keeping your mouth shut about what you had seen is usually chief amongst the unwritten regulations to be followed. Keeping that in mind, the long line of people waiting to get inside of the cabin was much longer than should be, if everyone had been abiding by the rules. The night was thick with unseasonable humidity, a bad moon had cast a wicked glow over everyone that was waiting, and a dense mist was rising from the stream that flowed nearby. The combination of cool grass underfoot and the beads of sweat pouring from the brow was a tad disorienting.
Continue reading “Story Time – Behold, The Wicked Wind – Halloween 2018”
By: A.P. Miller
People just don’t party in the woods like they used to. Sydney George could remember a time in her life when she and her friends would take sleeping bags, a few cases of beer, and enough something to burn to keep the party going until the sun started coming up. Then life happened. People got older, they had kids, bought houses, and had responsibility. Despite every promise they had made to each other when they were graduating, Syndey’s close circle of friends just didn’t keep in contact the way they were supposed to. Continue reading “Story Time – Fireside Confessional – Halloween 2018”