Sports Fiction Novels & Stories

I absorbed the familiar words scrolling across the monitor. News is what someone wants suppressed. Everything else is advertising. ~ Katharine Graham Advertising. That’s what I worked on every day. It was safe and kept me in a perfect, closed box. Yes, I had dreams. I knew that one day I would lift my head and be ready to tackle the world again. Nowhere in those dreams was there room for a jock, or multiple jocks. To me, sports were a lower rung on my dream ladder than classifieds. Professional athletes were a waste of good air and they were the reason I lived the way I did. No, scratch that. I was the reason. I was a self-diagnosed male muscle nymphomaniac. The scientific world should study

SEVEN I shouldn’t have come home because the house was too loud, not after spending the night at a friend's place. Of course the TV. She'd sit at it, with so much loathe because he was on it. It was Levi, holding the cup with the headlines written: WESTON CROWNED CHAMPION. ALPHA TALK NEXT? I could tell she had repeated that play thrice now when the wins happened yesterday, cussing. Mom was on the couch, arms crossed. She didn’t look at me when I walked in.

I absorbed the familiar words scrolling across the monitor. News is what someone wants suppressed. Everything else is advertising. ~ Katharine Graham Advertising. That's what I worked on every day. It was safe and kept me in a perfect, closed box. Yes, I had dreams. I knew that one day I would lift my head and be ready to tackle the world again. Nowhere in those dreams was there room for a jock, or multiple jocks. To me, sports were a lower rung on my dream ladder than classifieds. Professional athletes were a waste of good air and they were the reason I lived the way I did. No, scratch that. I was the reason. I was a self-diagnosed male muscle nymphomaniac. The scientific world should study