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Eric Vitner, Author

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Eric Vitner, Author

Work
About
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- Work
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Short Fiction

Mostly magical realism. Some realism.

Story excerpt, shown on damaged paper in typewritten font "You need to tell your mom. If you get rust in you and don't get a shot, you turn all purple and throw up all over yourself and you can't breathe and then you die," Genie lectured. Tabby turned back to the bucket and pulled at its base with all her strength until it budged and fell. It almost struck her foot, spilling old nails and brown water across the ground as it rolled. She lifted the top of the old toy chest and found a water-logged shoebox filled with toy cars. She tossed them one by one onto the pile of nails. She then brought the box to the mouse, which she promptly fished up with the cardboard and dropped in.

Story excerpt, shown on damaged paper in typewritten font: Bent forward, shaking with either age or fear, she held in her hands a small loaf of bread and a small ceramic bowl of salt. Artem looked from this and back to his men. He motioned with his left hand for them to put down their guns. Ivan, the one on the right, motioned with the end of his rifle back towards Artem. Artem followed Ivan's gaze to see he was holding his pistol out, the muzzle a few centimeters from the woman's forehead. He could not remember removing it from its holster.

The Intercession of Salt

Story excerpt, shown on damaged paper in typewritten font:She was trying to put the wallet in her purse while on her phone, distracted, fidgeting, a step out onto the avenue, and waiting for the “Don’t Walk” sign to change. Her purse was a yellow and brown plaid design with a leather strap – the same as my wife. This might be why I noticed her and saw her drop her wallet. She otherwise would have been lost to me in the hurried haze of the street corner crowd.

Story excerpt, shown on damaged paper in typewritten font: Ignoring my hunger, I stared at the visitor's featureless dark face. A rainbow halo filled with tiny flickering suns orbited his head. Hypnotized, I couldn't look away from those precious stars despite the headache creeping through my skull. I wanted to run out the door or curl up in a ball or disappear in a puff of smoke but he had come to see me. It would be rude to not talk to him.

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