2019/097

"Yellow Dog" Bryan Costales, author: Short Story, GoldDust Magazine Issue 36

If he hadn't been such a stupid mutt, he would have chosen a different location for each of his trysts. Her cheating husband splayed on his recliner, a bottle of Bud in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other. His clothes looked slept in.

2016/07/07

"Moon Over Black Ice" Bryan Costales, author: Short Story, Riptide Journal Volume 11, "Carpe Diem" Issue

"I made absinthe once," I said and picked up my glass. The first sip was harsh -a wild bird caught in my throat. I grabbed my water and washed the bird away. I looked at her and she was looking around for the waiter. She must have seen him so she raised her arm. Her perfect arm. No wait. She had a long wiggly scar on the underside of her arm. "I bought wormwood at a witch store," I said. "They could sell it. Freedom of religion."

2014/02/15

"Thread Twice Cut" Bryan Costales, author: A Science Fiction Novel,

Imagine Frankenstein's monster but created by an alien machine where each piece of his flesh acted as a DNA key. Imagine a man who died in 1986 and was resurrected 300 years later into just such a patchwork body. This is the story of Puppet, the only man who could die in a world of immortality. A world where death was forbidden and rules were made up by a select few. This is a story about mortality, art, love, unusual relationships, and a place where people can choose to reincarnate into augmented bodies or bizarre creatures. Puppet's misguided quest to save an immortal woman led him to discover the truth about himself, the truth about immortality and eventually the reason he was created in the first place.

2014/02/15

"Jo" Bryan Costales, author: An Historical Novel, smashwords ebook $3, Barns And Noble nook $4.99, scribd read online $3, Amazon kindle $3, Lulu softcover book $14.98. First book in the "Gone Wildly Wrong" series, A late 20th Century historical novel presented in the form of a sequence of letters, articles, news account, diaries, and so on, each told by someone who cared about Jo. It is the combined nature of these narratives that provide a rich overview of the last part of the 20th Century and and of Jo's life.

Hi Dad. Hi Mom. The weather here in Viet Nam stinks. I mean really smells bad. You know, lots of rotten smells of leaves and fruit rotting, kind of like the smell of fertilizer only worse. And it rains buckets. No don't just think it rains hard. It doesn't. It rains buckets. I mean empty a full bucket over your head and you'll get the idea. It rained all last night and is hot as hell and humid today.

2014/03/08

"Dust" Bryan Costales, author, A Romantic Short Story

Bug bites on his arms and legs itched more now that his numbing ointment had worn off. James scratched his leg once then rubbed his iced vodka-cran over those same itches. He felt buzzing then booming music from the club downstairs through the floor boards and his wooden stool. The sound seemed to flutter and flow just like the ocean outside under a setting sun. Its reddish-gold light aided the complexion of everyone sitting at that curved bar except him with his almost-faded and uneven sunburn.

2014

"Jungle Jim" Bryan Costales, author, A Quirky Short Story Vol. 04, No. 10 eFiction Magazine

Weight on the back of his knees felt less heavy than he expected, so he allowed his arms to relax overhead toward a multi-colored rubber sky. Warm sunlight bathed his naked body like a thousand caressing feathers, in a way he had forgotten since he had been a boy. Seven or maybe eight years old then and still in grammar school, running away from bullies and the shame they caused as fast as his little legs could move. Yes, then, like now, he had screamed in rage. Only this time he bellowed, "I hate you Duncan! Damn you all to Hell for firing me!"

2013

"Hermosa" Bryan Costales, author, A Romantic Short Story, Vol. 01, No. 09 eRomance Magazine

Soft music leaked from a door near the end of the empty corridor, old time music, perhaps Cole Porter. A gentle breeze of music for a Saturday morning. Mona frowned. "Damn it Hermosa, where in the hell did you get off to?" She tapped her boot, a firm tap-tap on the corridor's thin carpet.

May 2013

"Window" Bryan Costales, author, A Romantic Short Story, Runner up for SF Grotto's first Writer's Camp, Published in the May 2013 issue of eRomance Magazine

I watched myself reflected in Joe's large front-room window, darkness beyond. Two smaller panes on either side, open at steep angles, let warm air leak inside carried on a silent feather-light breeze. A staccato clank of beer bottles against a switch caused the overhead light to wink off. I glanced toward the kitchen and watched Joe saunter out wearing dimness and decked out in only his flowered boxers and an old Dead Kennedy's t-shirt, clutching two bottles of Corona beer.

2013

Bryan Costales, reviewer, Made a Staff Reviewer on readwave.com

2008-2010

microhorror.com (DEFUNCT) Stories, Bryan Costales, author, Assorted flash fiction horror stories, in Micro Horror Short Stories, Endless Nightmares

Firmly strapped flat on his back, David couldn't move so he tried to remember instead.

Yes, before college he had believed love was endlessly renewable. That was until the day gin had caused ice to slide below his tires. Drunk, he had jerked the steering wheel wrong. Jenny that day rode beside him in the car, her mouth an oh of surprise, red lips as if about to blow a bubble. Yes, those winter crisp days had hacked off his right foot when their car smashed too fast into a tree.

2008

"Rose Becomes Useful" Bryan Costales, author, A short story,

Early in the morning of New Year's Day, Rose Thornton crackled her mouth open and breathed in deeply. She awoke from a long fevered illness and found herself lying face down on a hard surface with her eyelids stuck shut. They'd been stuck shut before but under different circumstances that made her ashamed, so she fervently wished she was alone, wherever she was.

2007

"Sendmail" 4th Edition, Bryan Costales, author, with Claus Aßmann, George Jansen, Gregory Neil Shapiro, A Technical Email Book O'Reilly Media Publisher, Available from O'Reilly Media for $47.99.

You may need to decide whether to compile sendmail from the source or to obtain it from a vendor. Very old versions of sendmail should be replaced because they are insecure. Newer versions should also be replaced because the latest version (V8.14) contains many new and valuable features.

2007

"Three Chickens" Bryan Costales, author, A Quirky Romance Short Story Summer 2006 The Banyan Review (defunct),

Sheila Tanner hummed to herself as she scraped carrots into a bucket. She used a sharp knife instead of the vegetable peeler, because it felt easier to her, and did just as good a job. She was a Kansas woman, a mid-westerner through and through.

Sheila heard a loud pop from outside and paused to listen. She heard two more in succession and realized a gun was being fired.

2005

"Sendmail Milters" Bryan Costales, author, with Marcia F. Flynt, A Technical Anti-spam Book, Addison Wesley Publisher

Over the last few years, spam email has evolved from nuisance to scourge and, now, today's headline speak of an "anti-spam arms race," and "millions of dollars lost in the battle with spam."

The fight against spam has become a full-blown war. The war is being fought between the huge ISPs on the one hand (the gorillas) and duck-and-run spammers on the other (the guerrillas), leaving the vast majority of ordinary citizens in the role of the downtrodden populous.

2005

"Made" Bryan Costales, author, A Science Fiction Short Story in v23, winter 2005, Peridot Books (defunct)

Marithe held to his arm as Gerolde helped her along a gently worn path between home and the family's sun shaded meadow. Marithe's knees were bent oddly inward and her bare feet bent outward. Gerolde could tell that walking hurt her but also noticed that she didn't complain. Instead she walked quietly, her eyes on the path watching for roots and rocks, and clutching his arm with a satisfying strength.

"I'm sorry I am not perfect," she said with a shy smile for the fifth time.