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I shouldn’t have to wonder—yet I do— What horrible misdeed they think was done. It must be dreadful, certainly undue Perhaps a thing untoward, and to be shunned. To cut off contact, quickly, as they did There must have been a lie as quick as sand A story without bottom, without lid Withdrawing graceful heart…
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Imagine a red morning without dew No nighttime tears to glisten in the dawn Or birds who sing without a mournful coo To fill the air along with tweeting song. Imagine the warm breeze across the grass Without the hint of humid, sticky air When suddenly the blossoms, full at last, Unfold their perfect petals…
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I can’t unsee the ugliness he brought When, after a long silence had ensued, He placed his pains upon me, iron-wrought, As overturning stones, both old and new He—looking, looking, frantic, for a sign To label what he saw and did not like A sin (a grievous error, in his mind)— Laid blame before retreating…
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When they go quiet I won’t think “What’s wrong with me?” Not anymore. I have wasted hours trying To figure that out Just to go back to the mirror After years of weariness have worn me to dust To find my reflection, with well-worn tear tracks, Staring back and whispering “You’re a beautiful creature. Not…
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It was not what she intended to do on a Sunday afternoon, but there she was anyway, driving her ex 3 hours across the state. The radio was on too loudly, as they weren’t talking, and she needed to fill the silence. She queued up a Gorillaz album in Apple Music (she knew he hated…
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A year without you but I’m better Than when we walked the hall Holding hands as I prayed to find Space for my whole self beside you. I found a different door to enter Which lead me where I didn’t wonder Where I would sit, or if there would be a chair No, these new…
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“Where was the accident?” he repeated. Marie could see fear creeping through his eyes. “What kind of question is that?” he asked. The fact that his answer was another question bolstered her. “I want to know what you know about the accident,” she said. Her armpits were wet, her heart rate higher than it should…
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Marie stared at the golden man, unblinking, her brain unable to comprehend what he meant. She hadn’t made any deal with him. This was the first time she’d ever seen him. For a moment, she felt unanchored to the world. She wondered if she’d been given too much pain medication. Her head seemed open to…
The Quick and the Dead
Short stories. Creative experiments. Ideas that might not pan out.
The Quick and the Dead 