Clair Bueno

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Harvey Havel
“She tossed him a small mirror so that he could see the results, and what he saw horrified him.  The boiling concoction left a deep trail of burnt skin that stretched from the crown of his head all the way to his chin – almost like an artificial sluice that burned his flesh to form a large rivulet that ran down the center of his face.”
Harvey Havel, The Odd and The Strange: A Collection of Very Short Fiction

Harvey Havel
“The orderly brandished a hunting knife from a sheath at his waist and sliced open the prisoner’s throat with it.  Warm blood cascaded out of the prisoner’s throat, some of it spraying the captain’s uniform.  The orderly waited for the prisoner to bleed to death before cutting the head clean off.  Within a few minutes, the muscle that the prisoner built on his body was carved out and thrown on the grill.  After the meat cooled, the orderly put the human steaks in front of the captain for dinner.  As the captain ate each buttery piece, he couldn’t help but compliment the orderly for a job well-done.”
Harvey Havel, The Odd and The Strange: A Collection of Very Short Fiction

“Entrepreneurs never get to the realization of their vision by doing what got them to the point they are currently at.”
Curtis L. Jenkins, Vision to Reality: Stop Working, Start Living

Harvey Havel
“It seemed as though he would never pull free, until he awoke one morning feeling kind of awkward, as though his hands had been lopped off by some Arabian sword during a routine druggie blackout, and in their place, pale and membranous hands that had been fit to his wrists by aliens that took him up while he slept and then brought him back down – all of it in an effort to help him move up to where he belonged in society.”
Harvey Havel, The Odd and The Strange: A Collection of Very Short Fiction

Sara Pascoe
“Then Raya saw Rebecca West, the fourteen-year-old who only saved her own life by testifying against her mother, and then she saw her own face reflected in these girls – a swirl of chance, and life and sorrow.”
Sara Pascoe, Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

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