K. Marvin Bruce

  The morning was foggy.   The temperature had crept up in the night, sublimating the snow to vapor that hung in the damp, warmer air.   Terah was beginning to long for days when he could linger upon awakening without having to jump immediately into action.   Those days when he’d awake next to Danielle, warm and cozy, if not properly employed.   Opening his eyes and finding it dark, scooting over to her warm body and wrapping an arm around her.   Even if this didn’t lead to making love, it made him feel accepted, happy, and content.   When was the last time he’d opened his eyes to normalcy? There was still wet, heavy snow on the ground.   He dashed out of the cave, following Mich’s slushy footprints.   He could only see a foot or two ahead, so running was out of the question in this rocky terrain.   He didn’t want to call out—the homeless don’t want to draw attention to themselves.   At least he’d be able to navigate back to his stu...

  “I told you not to barricade the door!”   Mich was already nervous about exposing himself to new circumstances.   It wasn’t like there were lots of complicated rules to obey to stay safe.   Too many variables.   Too much space between atoms. “I didn’t.”   Terah was beyond the corner, struggling with a pack now overloaded with food. “Well, it’s gonna take a lotta work to get out.” Terah was grateful to put down the pack for a moment.   His shoulders ached.   He stepped around the corner.   In Mich’s light he could see about ten feet of detritus packed against the door.   This was going to take an hour or two.   He began pulling pieces of old furniture out and tossing them into the rooms that lined the corridor.   After several minutes of this, they’d made no apparent progress. “They don’t want us to go,” Mich panted between loads. “That’s why we have to,” Terah responded. Not sure of the time, they had waited until the sky thr...

  I hope you’re comfortable.   With apologies for interrupting The Space between Atoms once again, I’m wanting to share another small success for this struggling writer.   A story I submitted to Coffin Bell about a year ago has just been accepted for publication.   Its title is “Easy Chair.” I know many people that work in publishing.   Although many websites are in a constant state of updating, changing daily or often more frequently than that, publication takes time.   Editors I know often take weeks even to get to submissions they receive.   Those submissions have to be read and compared with others that have also arrived. Many times a story has to go to outside readers and/or an editorial board.   These are all busy people.   And, of course, unless you’re a household name, you’ll be part of the slush pile for awhile. I used to find that off-putting, but the slush pile is a reality of a world where lots and lots and lots of people want t...

  Terah woke up.   He didn’t remember falling asleep.   When he looked over at the hammock, it was empty.   The fire was dead.   At his age he had to piss with an apocalyptic urgency, but he knew he couldn’t do it here without offending Mich.   He knew the trail to the “bathroom” but he had no light.   Then he remembered the lighter. Never a smoker, Terah had always envied his step-dad’s lighter.   Fire on demand.   When he’d found a Zippo, scared and battered, at All Saints—they’d probably used it to light their candlelighters—he’d pocketed it.   He’d always considered it for starting fires, but where there was flame, there was light.   He fumbled in his pack until he found it.   Flip, zip!   Let there be light!   He walked as quickly as he could, his left hand squeezing his penis, until he found the place.   His zipper was already down and he was out and jetting a stream of relief into the pit.   He couldn...

  What could you do about a monster who doesn’t fear religion?   This spirit carried a Bible, for God’s sake!   A crucifix would frighten an old-style vampire, but now a former religion professor found himself helpless.   His concern for Mich taking hold, he burst from his bed with a surge of energy and launched himself across the room in a way that surprised even himself.   He hit some resistance but it wasn’t exactly solid.   His momentum carried him through, right into Mich’s hammock.   The boy awoke with a shout and began flailing.   Tangled in the netting, Terah couldn’t extract himself, breathing in the earthy tones of his companion.   Finally he found his voice. “Mich!   It’s me!   I was trying,” he gasped between blows, “to stop Wednesday!” At the mention of Wednesday Mich stopped swinging his fists and deftly dropped out of the back side of the hammock.   “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he shouted at Terah.   “...

  It looks like there may be a little more space between the atoms since I have a bit of news to share this week.   My story “Planet Heaven” has appeared in Sein und Werden —check it out.   This is an irreverent tale that I wrote years ago.   It was rejected for making fun of religion, but I know whereof I speak. Right on the heels of this happy appearance came the news that my tale “Between the Sheets” has been accepted by Yellow Mama for its Valentine issue.   Love and horror often go together, but this is very gentle horror.   Unsettling rather than terrifying. “Planet Heaven,” however, came from my somewhat common experience of being raised religious only to wonder about those who’d been raised in other religions.   Why were they damned to hell just for being born elsewhere?   Why couldn’t true believers just sit down together and talk about it? The story, although set in space, isn’t really science fiction.   I grew up reading sci fi, an...

  We’ll take another brief break in The Space between Atoms here—the story will continue and it will take some twists and turns, but for now I wanted to point out that Ghostlight is available on Amazon and the latest issue includes my short story “The Pain of a Caterpillar.” This particular story was an attempt to write a fairly straightforward horror story.   Most of my writing falls between genres, which is why I struggle as a writer.   (Either that, or my writing sucks.)   This one tries to stay close to the expectations of something definitely being wrong. It is actually based, partially, on my own living in Scotland.   The town where it’s initially set, Breck, New Hampshire, is a place I made up as the setting for many of my stories.   I actually have a novel underway about the town and why it’s so weird, but I haven’t had any luck yet in getting my novels published. In any case, “The Pain of a Caterpillar” derives from my own insect phobia, and also...