• Welcome back to another episode of Writing In Suburbia.

    In this episode I chat about where I’m at in my career and where I want to be. I also touch on where I thought I’d be. A lot of professional reflection and fortune telling going on. Why? It’s my birthday. So there’s that…

    Enjoy!

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  • Well, it’s not just a normal Friday! Nope, nope, nope!

    It’s a book birthday for Black Box Inc.!

    Check that baby out, will ya? Check it out! Best get to ordering, y’all!

    Now, on with the drabble!

    ***

    One Wish
    By
    Jake Bible

    She blew out the candles and plunged the room into darkness.

    The singing had stopped and no one said a word. They waited in that darkness, breaths held, bodies shivering.

    “Where is it?” Charlotte hissed. “I made my wish. Where is it?”

    “Birthday magic is powerful magic,” Norris replied. “But it is also fallible. Hard to control. Hard to focus.”

    They waited some more then Charlotte snapped, “Light them again. I’ll try a new wish.”

    “You only get–.” Norris gasped and fell.

    “One wish is all you need,” the unearthly voice growled. “More than you will ever need, dear Charlotte.”

    ***

    Cheers!

    Disclaimer: BLACK BOX INC.!

  • Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Black Box Inc.! Happy birthday to you!

    That’s right, y’all, Black Box Inc. is officially in the wild. Check it out below then get to that clickety clacking and that bookity buying, yo.

    Cheers!

    Need to hide something from the fae?
    Got a tricky trans-dimensional delivery to make?
    Need a big ball of magic that can destroy the world?
    Call Black Box Inc.

    The world as we know it is gone. Since the “extradimensional happening,” every creature, monster, and fairy tale goblin has turned Asheville, North Carolina, into their personal playground. An uneasy truce exists between the races, but Chase Lawter’s unique ability puts him squarely in the crosshairs of treachery, feuds, and monsters looking to make a buck on black market goods. Chase is the only known being who can pull material from between dimensions and shape it into whatever he likes—like boxes. Like boxes in which folks hide smoking guns and severed heads. Only Chase can hide the boxes, and only Chase can recover them from the Dim. All for a tidy sum, of course.

    His crack team—a yeti, a zombie, and a fae-trained assassin—have his back. What could possibly go wrong?

  • Well, it’s Friday the 13th! What a way to party, eh?

    I’m gonna leave these pics down here for you to click on at your leisure. Review Razer Edge, if you will. Buy For A Few Credits More, please. And pre-order Black Box Inc. Go!

    Now, on with the drabble!

    ***

    Dear God…
    By
    Jake Bible

     

    Dear God,

    First, let me say thank you for providing all those immoral, nubile, drug-addicted teenagers for me to slaughter. I appreciate the gesture.

    But that’s not why I’m writing. This is a lot of work to do alone. I was hoping maybe you could send a friend? Someone good with knives? It’s asking a lot, but you’re God, so…

    Thank you for listening, and thank you for the whole immortality thing. Comes in handy when I’m set on fire, stabbed, shot, blown up, and run over by various vehicles.

    Hope you and Jesus are doing well.

    Love,
    Jason

    ***

    Cheers!

    Disclaimer: Machetes, am I right?

  • Hey, hey, hey! It’s Friiiiiiiiiiiii-day!

    Time to party, y’all!

    And by party, I mean read some micro-fiction. Oh, yeah!

    But, before you hop into the 100 words of incredible, how’s about you go show Razer Edge some love? I know you’ve read it. Right? RIGHT? Click the pic and leave a review, if you would be so kind. Reviews are the lifeblood of small press writers. I NEED MY LIFEBLOOD!

    Anyhoo, a review would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

    Now, on with the drabble!

    Enjoy!

    ***

    Dead Stuck
    By
    Jake Bible

     

    The gun’s jammed… Shit.

    This never happens. I meticulously check weapons before a job. In fact, I’m so paranoid about guns jamming that I rarely, almost never, use semi-automatic pistols and prefer revolvers exclusively.

    But, Tammy stole my .38, and Gil’s Glock 9mm kept jamming, so I gave him my Colt revolver, which left me with my Beretta .45. Normally a most reliable pistol. Normally…

    I keep trying, but the slide is stuck. Dead stuck. A lot like me.

    The squeal of feedback echoes through the broken glass window.

    “Come out, Tiny! It’s all over!”

    I guess it is.

    ***

    Cheers!

    Disclaimer: You’ll never take me alive, copper!