December 2018 - James Kirst Short Story and Novel Blog

Short Story Saturday: Why You Never Celebrate in a Weird Bar

Posted on December 29, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Why You Never Celebrate in a Weird Bar. Please enjoy.

Waking up after a bender is never a fun thing but you can get used to anything if it’s done long enough. After a while, dealing with dry mouth and nausea became as part of the morning routine as wiping the crud out of your eyes. At least, that’s my excuse as to why I never bothered giving up staying up late drinking at random dive bars, but my latest experience and this sudden pain in my chest is beginning to change my mind. To think, it all happened this morning. Allow me to explain.

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Short Story Saturday: Christmas Eve in Utqiagvik

Posted on December 22, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Christmas Eve in Utqiagvik. Please enjoy.

I’m sure most diners get out-of-town visitors all the time. Sure, I mean, I’m sure every eatery has its regulars but a stranger coming in to dine would hardly be a momentous occasion for most. The visitor would have to be quite the character to leave an impression. However, when you live in my neck of the woods, or should I say, tundra, all you have are regulars so a visitor definitely leaves an impression. I will say, though, it is doubtful that anybody would forget the man who came in a few nights ago.

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Short Story Saturday: Non Morieris in Somnis Memorias

Posted on December 15, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Non Morieris in Somnis Memorias. Please enjoy.

I’m walking through immaculate streets and surrounded by large and luxurious homes, monuments of better days. This place was once vibrant and full of life, now sterile, and empty except for the leaves blowing in the wind. A looming clock tower stands in the center of town. Its ticking hands reverberate inside my skull each passing step perpetually reminding me of the inexorable nature of time.

I am exhausted. Mentally. Physical fatigue is impossible here.

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Short Story Saturday: Consumed With Guilt

Posted on December 8, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Consumed With Guilt. Please enjoy.

I never wanted to be a criminal. Oh Mama, what would you think of your baby boy now? A cop car is parked outside my home right now. He’s been out there for nearly an hour. He’s waiting for me. He wants to give me a chance to confess. I will, but only after writing down my thoughts so I don’t get flustered when I make my statement in court. Public speaking makes me so nervous.

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50 Tastes and Flavors

Posted on December 7, 2018August 26, 2019 by jkirst

Hey everyone! I thought it’d be fun if I shared with you the only fan fiction I ever wrote, something I penned a few years ago. I think you’ll see that this was a “completely serious attempt” to write a “completely serious fan fiction”. The story is entitled 50 Tastes and Flavors.

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Short Story Saturday: A Lesson in Humility

Posted on December 1, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled A Lesson in Humility. The original writing prompt is taken from https://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/antiquing-writing-prompt.

It was not a family reunion that should have ever happened. It defied the laws of… God? Nature? Life itself? To think it none of this would have ever happened had I not been so desirous for fame. Such is the price of learning a lesson in humility.

I’m an author of very little renown, likely I’m nobody you’ve ever heard of. You may be familiar with my grandfather, though. If you’re a fan of his works, you’ll know who I mean. I think about him daily.

Of course, he’d be easier to forget if I didn’t have to pass his grave daily. Admittedly, as convenient as it was, I shouldn’t have buried him so close to home. Loathe as I am to admit this, his fame haunts me. Appropriate, I suppose, as he did love to write about the supernatural.

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