Michael Huff's Blog

Click on the cover above to pre-order out newest anthology, Summer’s Edge: Secrets and Shadows. Piney Woods Writers Group have been at it again, this time collecting stories of a lighter nature than  we did last Halloween. The release date for the paperback is May 30, 2025. 

The post Second Book Coming in May! appeared first on Huff Himself.

Jon stood before a door in the bowels of a mammoth edifice, one with high vaulted ceilings, ornate staircases and thousands of doors and rooms, many stories tall and deep. He had been here so many times before it remained etched into his memory, even when awake.

He’d been having this same dream, or one very similar, for as long as he could remember. It always ended the same, standing in front of a door in abject terror as the door opened, and then…

He’d find himself awake, heart pounding, swe...

Eileen and I had been hold up in our second story apartment for about two weeks. Mandatory lockdown.

At first we’d thought, “Here we go again! Another pandemic scare. La-de-da!” — just like almost everybody else.

And who could blame us? After the bumbling response and conflicting information that surrounded the COVID-19 outbreak back in ’19 and ‘20?

So we settled in and looked at it like an in-house vacation. The delivery services were working and we ordered out every day, even booze. And we ...

Dakala moved towards the stacks on the 5th floor of the library. Ten o’clock was closing time and they always had to do a sweep to make sure there wasn’t anyone asleep or hiding.

She hadn’t been working here more than a few months, part of a work-study program to help cover her tuition, but she’d already seen plenty of strange things in the library, some of them a bit lurid and even disgusting.

Turns out our library bathrooms were frequently used for hookups and when they were available, even...

Nostradamus curled in a tight ball on top of the refrigerator, his favorite napping place on a chilly evening. He purred rhythmically as he sang himself to sleep.

At his desk, Robert sat before his computer, an old clunker which also purred rhythmically, even hypnotically, joining in a harmonic blend of cat and machine. As always, it served to lull him into a stupor as he stared at the blank screen.

It was no use. He’d been sitting here for over an hour now and still nothing. No inspiration. ...

This final entry for the #writingsprintchallenge given by @tuftin.reads is prompted by The Lobster, a wordless tune the Irish supergroup, The Gloaming. Below is my offering.

Some memories fade with age, becoming frail and full of holes, less and less real with each recollection. Other memories are etched in stone and you will take them with you to the grave. Such is my memory of that night so very long ago. It was in the summer, when my parents trundled m...

Day 6 of the 7 Day #writingsprintchallenge offered by @tuftin.reads on Instagram. Today’s prompt is the photo above. The red hue in the upraised rock reminded me of the Red Planet and the little patches of ice, snow and green growth cast my thoughts towards the terraforming of Mars, a process that will take anywhere from 50 years to 100 million years, depending on who you talk to. It all begins in earnest before this decade passes. I’m a hu...

When I was 25 years old, I cheated on my wife. Once upon a time, I would have said that with quotation marks around the word cheated, because nothing happened. Not any more. Because something did happen. Maybe not sex, but betrayal. Heartbreak. Disrespect. Dishonor. And any number of other offenses, not only against my bride and the mother of my children, but against the husband of the woman I didn’t have sex with, and...

Today’s entry is the 5th of 7 in the #writingsprintchallenge offered by @tuftin.reads on Instagram. She has poked the bear this time. Why do I say this? Read on…

When I was 25 years old, I cheated on my wife. Once upon a time, I would have said that with quotation marks around the word cheated, because nothing happened. Not any more. Because something did happen. Maybe not sex, but betrayal. Heartbreak. Disrespect. Dishonor. And any number of other offenses...

This is the fifth day of #writingsprintchallenge from @tuftin.reads on Instagram. The prompt today is a quote from James Joyce from his compendium of stream-of-consciousness writing, Ulysses.

Yesterday I lay upon a gurney in a makeshift operating room in the back of an abandoned building not too far from my home, but today I take my place with my fellow classmates as we prepare to meet the 51st President of the United States, Allen P. Alcorn. It’s an honor, ...