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When the text came to her phone, pinging like a clear bell in the finally silent house, she almost didn’t look at it. Whoever it was could wait until morning. These night time hours were precious—when she could draw, or paint, ink, stamp, glue, print, tape in peace. Amy finished the last stroke, letting
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Yesterday’s ponytail Is tied up with the bands of an easy morning That doesn’t start until I want it to And demands nothing of me as I drink my coffee The cares of the week left unnoticed Like the oil that will eventually need to be Shampooed from my bed head, After I’ve contemplated nothing
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Today, I told my kids I hated them Even though that could never be true. And something happened as soon as I said it As the room went quiet and I walked away Shutting myself in the bedroom to wrestle With the emotions that had made me say That horrible lie. The reason I said
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“I’ll buy,” he said, though he didn’t have His wallet. Or his phone. Or his keys. He hardly had his voice, Most of who he was, stolen, Ripped away from him, and us, As a tide of “what the hell” Washed us all out into the sea of dread. Of doubt. Of disbelief. Of discontent.
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A simple pleasure Is a greater treasure than All the gold on earth. It is too early To listen to your screaming. Please put on your shoes. Who bought all these toy? Does anyone clean but me? Dear God; what is that? This is your dinner. Eat it or don’t. It’s your choice. You can’t
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Nigel sat alone in a room small room with a bunk, a bucket, a small window near the ceiling, and a metal door which had been locked from the outside. The single light bulb overhead was flickering. It was twilight, and he could hear the noises of night creatures beginning to stir. He leaned back
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This story will appear in the upcoming campaign books for the popular table top RPG Never Going Home, published by Wet Ink Games. Nigel woke from a dead sleep. His ears were ringing, but not in the way that made him think something was wrong. He felt completely peaceful, like the ringing was his body’s
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One of my favorite things about reading the biblical text is imagining the scenes outside of the narrative. In one of my classes recently, I had the opportunity to think about the opening chapter of the book of Esther, and imagine what happened at the women’s banquet when the Eunuchs tried to bring Vashti before
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We found a family recipe, folded away in the same box as Mince Meat, and German Cherry Soup, and Creole Kisses But this one was not like the others. It was an artifact A testament to just how long ago 100 years is for the modern family. How much is 2 cents of rosen, and where
The Quick and the Dead
Short stories. Creative experiments. Ideas that might not pan out.
The Quick and the Dead 