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Anthony Stauffer
Bio
Husband, Father, Technician, US Navy Veteran, Aspiring Writer
After 3 Decades of Writing, It's All Starting to Come Together
Use this link, Profile Table of Contents, to access my stories.
Use this link, Prime: The Novel, to access my novel.
Stories (99/0)
Ratification Day
The embers still smoldered in the fire pit, not surprising since I had only slept for a few hours. But I knew when I climbed in bed the night before that sleep would be a commodity I couldn’t afford. Hopefully, the coffee would stave off the lethargy of sleep deprivation and I could be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the arrival of the family. Today was a first, one of many firsts that we had all suffered through over the last ten years; but at least this first was a joyous, yet somber, occasion.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
Dragonfear
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. And when there were, it was never many. They usually kept to the mountain ridge on their travels, as it was the best way to survive the dragonslayers. With a sigh, Azbarruka refocused his aim on the clearing below. At the very least, they’ll scare the deer in my direction.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
Paradox
“Doctor Salem,” he heard Doris say, her tone frantic. “Doctor, come here immediately!” It had been an eventful day already, and the last thing Calvin needed was more drama. But there was real fear in Doris’ voice, and the compulsion to help was unavoidable. He excused himself from his patient, placing the suction tube into her mouth and pausing the plaque removal. Faster than normal, but not so fast as to cause a panic, Calvin walked swiftly the front desk. Doris stood there already looking in his direction as he appeared, and her expression was dumbfounded fear.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
Gethsemane
This is a work of fiction and is, in no way, intended to serve as a coercion to the reader to question, or change, their religious beliefs. This story also does not reflect the religious beliefs of the author. It is a story built upon the many interpretations and possibilities inherent in the history of modern monotheistic religions and serves as another avenue of "What If?" The focus of this piece is for entertainment purposes only.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
The Priest
The bar stank of stale cigarettes and stale beer, and it took him back to the days when his drunk of a father would drag him here because he couldn’t find a babysitter. The same peeling paint. The same decaying photographs of adult softball leagues, bowling leagues, and gun range champions. And, by the looks of it, the same drunks he remembered as a boy, now joined by their children. The Bull and The Rider was the standard trope for a low income, smalltown, midwestern drinking hole. The bartender was the same gristled and bearded blowhard, now with gray hair streaking the sides of his scalp. The waitresses were the quintessential southern cowgirls, scantily clad in bosom-bearing crop tops and Daisy Duke shorts stretched tight by the little extra weight, their hair flowing out of their cowboy hats like a blonde waterfall, and the clack of their boots letting you know exactly where they were without an upward glance.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
Looking Back Through the Glass
Tony sat his laptop, confused and irritated. He hadn’t published anything for some time. Not even a short story. He leaned back in the chair at his kitchen table, the sunlight streaming in through the sliding glass door of the kitchen. Thinking back, he remembered a small article he wrote to his fellow writers about ways to avoid writer’s block, yet, here he was, suffering through it himself. The ideas he was searching for seemed trapped behind the Berlin Wall of his mind. The coffee was still hot in the cup on the table next to his computer, and on the screen was an electronic box titled ‘Document3’ on Microsoft Word. The page inside the box had a title and a single sentence, Looking Back Through the Glass and “Tony sat at his laptop, confused and irritated”.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
Day 36
The world was dying… Peter had no idea why, nothing seemed to make sense to him. Everything was fine, then he wakes up one morning and there was just nobody. It’s not like they just disappeared, either. No… everybody had simply turned into piles of dust. Peter remembered a movie called Night of the Comet, an old Eighties flick that his aunt loved. It was a cult classic, but he had never seen it. There was no use being a part of old people’s movie cult, it was just lame. But he couldn’t explain this. How could people just turn to dust? Peter had even looked up at the sky when the night of July 6th began, hoping to see a comet to explain the world he woke up in. Nothing… again. Surely, though, he couldn’t be the only human left alive. His thoughts had immediately turned to Alicia when he had come to some sort of terms with the situation he had found himself in. Peter had to get her, he had a ring to give her and a question to ask her. He couldn’t be sure that she had been saved from this strange fate, but he had to find out.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
The Abdication of King Jeremy the Wicked
This story is inspired by the eponymous Pearl Jam hit, "Jeremy". In the song, Jeremy gets to 'speak' in class, which results in a terrible tragedy. What if Jeremy had had an advocate, somebody willing to stand by him when he was at his weakest and most vulnerable? Below is my take on how that may have happened.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Fiction
Bloodlust
The song referenced in this short story is "Seven Devils" by Florence + The Machine. The video is below. Alan was a bit late on the brakes and his Toyota pickup hit the bushes at the front of the parking spot. He couldn’t even sit up straight, all of his concentration bent on simply staying conscious. Drenched with sweat, the rash on his arms was on fire. His head was pounding. His hands were like boulders and felt swollen like red balloons. The fever had come out of nowhere, and it was a fever he hadn’t suffered from in thirty years.
By Anthony Stauffer2 years ago in Horror
The Wherewolf of London, Ohio
Toby was a mistake. No… not like that. His parents were dutiful. High school sweethearts, Aaron and Janice Stapleton were the quintessential, good-natured busybodies. Everything was planned out; from the proximity of their colleges to the careers of their dreams, from the home of their choice on the street of their choice, they accounted for every minute and every dollar. Had it been the 1950s, they would have been on the billboard of soon-to-come white picket fence community. By the time Janice had become pregnant with Toby, the couple had been happily married for three years, had a room already set aside for a nursery, and had a college fund set up at the local bank. Toby’s childhood was, for all intents and purposes, perfect. Except, of course, for the bullying.
By Anthony Stauffer3 years ago in Fiction