Sam Brelsfoard was born in Paris, France and currently lives in Stoneham, Massachusetts with his wife and pets. PITH is his first published work of fiction. Sam also records odd music under the moniker Soplerfo. He draws a daily abstract "comic strip" at colicstrip.com. Also he likes cheese and esoteric board games.
You can find out more about Sam at his website. You can also follow him on Twitter and Tumblr.
PITH is a collection of 100 very, very short stories. Each story barely fills one page. PITH shouldn't be thought of as an experiment in brevity but rather a celebration of a reader's individual experience. These stories are intended to be digested slowly. The author hopes you'll pick up the book, read a story, have a moment or two in another world. The "real" world gets a bit heavy sometimes, don't you think? What if there were nightbears to worry about instead?
The Grass Was Deep
The grass was deep. From where he lay he could see only green in his peripheral vision. Arms stretched out at his sides, he cut a stout, lopsided asterisk in the hillside. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with warm, humid air and as he slowly exhaled he imagined his breath propelling the clouds, steering their course far above the valley. He closed his eyes and made the sky break apart into hundreds of thousands of tiny shards, spilling down onto the valley below. When the storm was over he reopened his eyes and observed the shrinking sky and the ground closing in on him as he sank deep into the hungry soil.
The twins kept secrets from their parents. They kept them in jars covered in masking tape so that nobody could look in and see them. The boys would do horrible, nasty things. They would set traps for old ladies in their knitting, poke kittens with sticks to make them hiss and write love notes addressed to pretty girls with forged signatures of ugly boys. The twins kept their secret bottles in a hole at the back of a disused shed in their yard. When the hole filled up, the boys found a large rock and smashed the secrets and plugged the hole. From then on all that ever grew in the garden were horrible, knotted and mangled potatoes that no one would eat.
The massive dog lay on its side before him. Jim watched as the creature’s rib cage grew and shrunk with each laborious breath. He got down on his knees and pressed an ear up to its chest. Inside he heard the sounds of a carnival. The trapeze artists were up, people were gasping at the mid-air acrobatics. Oohs and ahhs reverberated inside the glum beast. The carnival was giving it indigestion. Too many happy people made the dog whine. Eventually it shrugged Jim away and slumped off to a corner where it vomited streamers and clown cars and at last went to sleep.
PITH is available on the Amazon Kindle store here.
PITH is available in paperback here.
PITH is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.