Autumn Nights

I huddle next to the lake each autumn night, waiting for Cassidy to take her nightly walk in the moonlight. I wait to see her, her sweeping black hair, her deep brown eyes. I speak, but my words have no voice. I experience only sorrow, regret, and bitter memories of her sudden death last October.



Brad W. Beatty.


Bad Choices

She looked at her wide crazy eyes as her cheeks puffed out like a blow-fish. She watched herself from above her body; as it slid deeper into the tub. Red plumes flowed freely from her wrist.

“I wonder what they will post about me now?”

“Wait, what about Mom! Oh no, I don’t want to…!”



Brad Beatty.


A Bold Soul

His hand shook uncontrollably as his spoon shot away from his mouth. My dad’s frustration and infirmity was shown conspicuously in his quirky grin as chili slid down his chin dripping to his shirt. This man who stood so tall throughout my childhood was fading away. Parkinson’s snuck daddy away at night. I miss him.


Brad Beatty


The Time Skipper

Renny glared at the Grayson Skyscraper fluctuating through the time current. They had built a fortress of paper Gods, ignorant of the arsonist living next door. The arrogant fools dabbled with nature and created a scourge to devour their future; the same child not born of man, but made by man that destroyed his past.



Brad Beatty.

I watch you

Miller’s Pond

The park bench was cold. Rain rolled down her cheek. Her son’s tiny head in her lap, a shotgun by her side, her eyes fixated.

“You can’t have him!” she fired into the bushes.

A decayed hand with her husband’s wedding ring crawled forward. Looking into his dead eyes she decided and squeezed the trigger.



Brad Beatty.