Toxic Tourism

Dystopian science fiction short stories and poems.

What if the last people on earth were drunks, dysfunctional families, heartless cannibals, or even a post-op transsexual?

These stories and poems developed over the last two years as I balanced reviewing literature, writing poetry, and marketing my first e-YA book, Seven Days on the Mountain. Like Days, these stories take place in the Western-like post apocalyptic world of the future, a motif trending, not only in YA fiction, but in mainstream fiction, poetry, and especially TV and film. I wrote in the forward to Days that the wildness of a dystopian world appealed to me aesthetically, like a Western, because its emotional landscape is sparse and terse from so much abuse. It occurs to me that the post-apocalyptic world is appealing to general audiences because all the broken institutions and concepts in our world can be discarded for a different, often brutal, model.

We like asking ourselves “What would I do in the zombie apocalypse? How could I make things better?” Of course, in entertainment, and in life, better isn't easy, or often possible.

It's a warm October day. Throughout the summer flesh eating cannibals plagued news channels, thank you bath salts, and if the election season absurdity doesn't make you want to take a dive off the old proverbial roof, I don't know what will.

Outside, the neighborhood kids play “infected” and “zombie hunters,” third graders are holding zombie parties, my five year old likes to pretend he is the product of chemical waste, heck even Disney family fare TV throws in the occasional reference to an apocalyptic world shaped by our fear of the unknown.

These characters are flawed, hopeless, and desperate. But they continue. Like us, they try.