Steve B Howard
Bio
Steve Howard's self-published collection of short stories Satori in the Slip Stream, Something Gaijin This Way Comes, and others were released in 2018. His poetry collection Diet of a Piss Poor Poet was released in 2019.
Stories (121)
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Half Hearted
Roughly fifteen miles into the trip, heading towards the backside of Seattle, he said, “Take 509, it’ll be faster.” And maybe it was. I liked dropping down off the hill on the north end of Burien. The dark shadowy greens of the Douglas Firs lined the freeway here going into the city. I could see the changes of spring began to green the banks of sluggish Duwamish as it slid quietly into the Puget Sound.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Families
The Naked Surf
Harvey stood on the cold winter beach in Northern California, white longboard pointing to the sky and bare ass pointing towards the bluff behind him. He watched the waves roll into the bay, breathed the air, noted how the wind passed his ears, absorbed the weak winter sunlight, and shifted the coarse sand between his toes. He also watched the violent vibrations running down the length of the brand new pier that sat in the bay as an ugly insult to the ocean. Large waves slammed into it and rolled onto the beach. Observations finished he entered the frigid water and began paddling out to the break.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Humans
The Fate of the Follower
If you were only viewing the inside of The Dead Dog Saloon in the town of Dead Dog itself, you would swear a tornado had ripped through the sorry little establishment. Not a bottle behind the bar was left unbroken, not a chair or table left upright, the long mirror behind the bar now reflected in shattered bits the bullet holes in the wall, the blood on the floor, and the busted green felt poker table where the chaos in this tiny New Mexico saloon all began.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Horror
The Retro-Junkie's Hard Burn
They were the worst. A demolition crew on their lunch break. Flageuring Demos, the type of dirty, violent men that drove brutal hover lifts, loaded with broken machinery and chunks of the mountain, down narrow roads at dangerous speeds.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Futurism
Le Petite Mort in a Japanese Snack Bar
Nishi-CT11–48 spent all day on his feet checking and re-checking tax information for discrepancies. Vertical streams of numbers and Kanji glowing black and red against a wall sized white screen consumed all in his tiny cubicle. As he finished processing the numbers and characters, small white silicon disks would drop from slots in the tall black server into data storage bins that lined the floor of his cubicle.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Futurism
Where My Writing Currently Earns
Before you get all excited, notice the headline says “Currently Earns $$$” and not “Currently Earns A Buttload of $$$”. When I say “earns” I mean between $0.03 a month to around $1500 a month. Though the $1500 monthly cash cow will most likely be put out to pasture come mid-May.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Journal
Purpose?
The Artist In the morning, near my son’s daycare an old man uses a pair of barbecue tongs to pick up bright yellow Ginkgo Tree leaves from the sidewalk. He places each leaf into a small brown paper bag. I watch his face crease with concentration as he bends at the waist to gingerly pluck each chosen leaf from the white concrete. He seems to be very determined, but why he does it, I can’t tell.
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Humans
