Michael Martin
Bio
Single father, military veteran, data scientist, writer in my free time (what little I have!)
Stories (8)
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The Chase
The raindrops that collected between the arcing swipes of Beth’s windshield wipers blurred the lights on the four-lane highway; red lights from brakes and the traffic signal streaked across the dark glass. Her breaths were shallow and quick; her eyes danced back and forth between the car braking in front of her and the rearview mirror. The large Ram pickup was so close that its headlights only showed as an intense glow at the bottom of her rear window. She could even make out the silhouette of its driver.
By Michael Martin4 years ago in Fiction
The Execution and the Bee
I’m dying. As we speak, in fact. And this is not the first time, either. Not literally, of course. Don’t be silly. I mean on the inside, where true feelings get bottled up and stored away for use later when you get home, and your wife is too tired to tell you to how much she doesn’t care. That slow, agonizing type of death that’s worse than real death. At least, that’s what I presume. I’ve never actually died a real death. But I think I know what it might feel like.
By Michael Martin4 years ago in Fiction
Follow the Clues...
This would be my office one day. I’d never sit on this side of the desk again, either, staring at staged pictures of arrests that Chief Remington had nothing to do with that were hung beside pictures of his kids. Poor things looked just like Chief, too. I wondered what his daughter would look like if she grew his bushy mustache, she already resembled him so damn much. Did those kids also eat fast food out of a paper bag like the one sitting on Chief’s desk? Did they get the meat sweats too?
By Michael Martin4 years ago in Fiction
