Eric Ross: Blog

Yesterday, I shared Unframed: A Love Story in 36 Exposures—a 1,700-word short story about a photographer, a mysterious vintage Leica, and the woman who keeps appearing in photos he never took.

The story didn’t start small, as I explained in my blog posting yesterday. The first draft came in at over 4,000 words. The second ballooned to 6,500. It was only in the third pass—paring the story down to its essence—that I arrived at the tight, final version I published yesterday. That version focuses on the core idea: a camera that seems to reveal a possible future, and the choice the protagonist must make when confronted with what might be.

But after posting, a reader reached out with a suggestion: “I reckon you should also post the longest version and see which readers prefer.”

So here it is - Unframed: Extended Edition.

This extended draft gives more space to Alex’s unfolding journey—his search for Maya, their deepening connection, and the eerie mystery of the camera that keeps showing him glimpses of a life not yet lived. It’s a fuller arc, more emotional, and maybe a bit more haunting.

If you read the short version and found yourself wanting more—more moments, more backstory, perhaps more resolution—then I hope this longer cut resonates.

I’d love to hear what you think:
• Does the extended story add something the short version couldn’t?
• Or do you prefer the distilled clarity of the 1,700-word version?
• Did you feel more immersed, or more adrift?

Feel free to comment or message me directly. I always love hearing how these stories land.

Thanks for reading.

Eric

Some stories begin with a “what if.” For Unframed, it was this: What if a camera could show you the life you haven’t lived yet?

This isn’t a classic time-travel or do-over tale. There’s no return to the past, no chance to fix old mistakes. Instead, the Leica in Unframed is a mysterious observer that reveals fragments of a possible future, intimate moments with a woman Alex hasn’t yet met. A poet. A stranger. A life that could be.

At its core, the story is about choice. When we’re handed a vision of what might be, how do we respond? Do we chase the perfect image, or embrace the messy, uncertain present? For Alex, the question isn’t just about art or fate—it’s about love, identity, and the difference between capturing a moment and living it.

The writing process mirrored the story’s evolution. The first draft sprawled past 4,000 words, a moody exploration of character, mystery, and the pull of the unknown. The second ballooned to over 6,500 as I tried to chase every thread—Alex’s backstory, Maya’s secrets, the Leica’s eerie provenance. But ultimately, I realized the heart of the story wasn’t in its subplots. It was in the tension between the image and the moment. The prophecy and the present.

So I stripped it back. The final version is a lean 1,700 words, pared to its emotional and thematic core: a man, a camera, a woman, and a choice. No filler. Just the hush of a shutter and the whisper of life's choices, unframed.

I hope you enjoy.

Eric

A grief-numbed cowboy.
Two seductive outlaws.
One dangerous heist.

Five Days to Abilene is a slow-burn Western that takes place in a Texas bordello. It's about surrender, risk, and the thrill of being claimed.

Saddle up!

—Eric

First, a quick apology: if you happened to click on my latest upload earlier today, you may have seen a story that wasn’t quite… ready to be served. That file was another story posted prematurely and is still being edited (oops). The correct story—Feast of Desire—should now be live and ready for your devouring.

Let’s talk about Feast of Desire.

What happens when a repressed restaurant critic accepts an invitation to a secret, underground dining experience hosted by a man known only in whispers? Isobel arrives early—always does. Prefers to watch, to analyze. But what unfolds is far more than a tasting menu.

Six strangers. Six courses. No phones, no last names—just a long blackwood table glowing with candlelight and thick with tension. As each dish is served—oysters in pomegranate foam, figs with rose-petal honey, saffron lobster bisque—the rules of civility begin to melt. Desire simmers. Inhibitions slip. And when the host finally approaches her, Isobel is no longer sure if she’s there to critique the meal—or be devoured by it.

Feast of Desire is a slow-burning, emotionally charged erotic tale about appetite, surrender, and the undoing of restraint. Come hungry. Leave undone.

—Eric

Just when you thought fairy tales couldn’t get any more twisted—or more arousing—along comes Taste My Sweets, the latest tale in my new series, Filthy Fairy Tales for Wicked Grown-Ups.

This isn’t the bedtime story your grandmother told you. In this retelling, Gretel wears a corset engineered for sin (not support), Hansel swings more than an axe, and the witch’s house isn’t just made of candy—it oozes seduction.

What begins as a walk in the woods turns into a feast of forbidden pleasures. We’ve got enchantments and entanglements, bindings made of rope and lust, and a candy-coated cottage where the real treats are tied to the table. Gretel might be looking for thyme, but she finds something far more… carnal. And let’s just say, when she returns to the ruins under moonlight, it’s not for seconds—it’s for the whole damn dessert menu.

Taste My Sweets is a tale of appetite and agency, where sugar hides a bite and happily ever afters are soaked in sweat.

So if you’ve got a craving for fairy tales laced with sin, indulgence, and a little magical mischief, this is your invitation.

Go on. Take a nibble. You know you want to.

Eric Ross