So I was driving and noticed some signs by the side of the road. One said “THE EASTER BUNNY” and the next said “DON’T RISE FROM THE DEAD.” Fascinated, I slowed to read the signs sprinkled over this church’s yard.
Emilio the Wombat and the Fearsome Pez Dispenser
Once upon a time, there was a wombat named Emilio. Emilio was a very special wombat because his nose contained a Pez dispenser.
He realized that normal wombats did not have candy factories in their noses. The deformity resulted from
Beatrice the Three-Eyed Marmot
Once upon a time, there was a marmot named Beatrice. Beatrice was a very special marmot because she had three eyes. You might think this was a useful trait, but it merely triplicated her vision and made everything so blurry
When Pigeons Get Lawyers
Eunice the pigeon did not live a glamorous life, but she was determined to rise above her dreary roost in the parking garage’s concrete rafters. She didn’t mind the exhaust-filled space or even the laughable “pigeon barriers” around her
Dorcas the Squirrel and the Quest to Kill Mother Nature
Ever notice how so many Splarks stories feature downtrodden scapegoats who eventually transcend their handicaps? Inspiring with its can-do attitude, Splarks brings you tales of optimism and personal revelation…except for this story about Dorcas the Squirrel.
Dorcas means “gazelle” in
Top Ten Reasons Why I Stopped Writing Stories and Started Making Lists
Bloggers and journalists insist that people love to read lists. Will Splarks ever succumb to the unending List-o-philia that refuses to die?
Well … you’ll notice that in my title, dear readers, that I said I’d explain the top ten …
Splarks Hypothetical Press: Your Source of Eminently Pukable Writing
Recently I went through the Writer’s Market, the famous directory of magazines and newspapers accepting freelance submissions. It was…educational. In case Splarks.com ever becomes an independent small press, I’ve drafted listing in the Writer’s Market.
Email: [email protected].
We …
Bio-elegance
The microbial children squealed as the otter submarine torpedoed through the river. Older members of the bacterial colony were perhaps more sedate, but no less enthused with the practiced tumbles and breakneck twirls of their new host. Most of them
The Indulgence of Childhood
Listen to us and cease weeping. We granted you one small indulgence because you wanted to know love. Initially, we refused your request, but your persistence moved us. We froze everything that you were and put your magnificence and brilliance
When We Were Rockstars
After a too-long night of pulsing bass and flashing strobes, I weave with Dan and Jason through grimy streets until we reach the river, which is made clean by shadows and moonlight. The wind whips my torn chiffon dress and