David Accampo | December 1, 2009
Just because I feed the need to share it: I wrote a novel entitled “Red Right Hand” during the month of November, as part of National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo.
I actually wrote very regularly and was more disciplined and productive in a sustained manner than I usually am.
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
This short script was part of an anthology series of short films to be developed by Habit Forming Films. The theme was “Whiskey, Gun, Cigarette” and each script was required to contain those elements.
Sometimes a little violence is a good thing.
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
This short script was part of an anthology series of short films to be developed by Habit Forming Films. The theme was “Whiskey, Gun, Cigarette” and each script was required to contain those elements.
Billy stumbles across a strange man in a field and gets a lesson on the difference between good guys and bad guys.
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
This short script was part of an anthology series of short films to be developed by Habit Forming Films. The theme was “Whiskey, Gun, Cigarette” and each script was required to contain those elements.
Would you sell your soul to win the lottery?
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
This story was originally written as a short to complement a script concept entitled The Beautiful People. It was my first attempt at science fiction. I don’t know the original date of creation, but it would have been circa 2001.
By David Accampo
Today my name is Leopold Atari. My father, a bronze ambassador from Nigeria, [...]
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
This story originally saw print in Transfer #75, Spring 1998
By David Accampo
Leroy leaning on the black iron gate, Leroy owes me forty dollars. He’s thin as a lamppost, bent over, brown skin faded. Shit, I mean look at me. I’m black, white, everything, [...]
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
By David Accampo
Marc and Annette lie on the bed, staring up at the tiny white topographical map of ceiling above the bed. A single sheet stretches between them, covering the odd angles of their naked bodies.
“I don’t know how you can say I’m being selfish,” says Annette.
“Bullshit.”
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
By David Accampo
Charlie sets the notebook computer down on his lap, slides the clasp, opens it. Presses the power button. The machine grinds gently to life as Charlie sips from the steaming cup of green tea on the bench beside him.
As the computer screen runs its epic start up screens, Charlie sighs through his nose [...]
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
Midsummer oily heat haze on the black asphalt roads when the devil came to Rockville, and Henry was the only one who noticed, out of breath, pushing his black-and-chrome silver Huffy bicycle across the sidewalk and into the flat gray parking lot of the Savings Corner Market. Out of breathe, pumping up and down the gentle wave of Snipes Road, hot air scorching his mouth and lungs, watching the shimmering obsidian heat mirage in rhythmic time, foot down, breath in, foot down breath out and finally, the Exxon station, comes into view, then Harmony’s ice cream stand, then the post office, and then the Savings Corner market.
David Accampo | January 24, 2009
When there is nothing left between two people, the physics of the room appear to change. A stillness overcomes the space between them, lazy dust motes trapped in a shaft of light. There is movement, of course — the nervous fidget of fingers, the swaying of legs, the tilt of the head to a slightly sharper angle. A yawn. But these movements become infinitesimal in the void between the occupants of the room.