A Story In 100 Words (Online) April 2021
He hadn’t heard a thing but his own thoughts in ages, and even they were beginning to fade. Mostly all he had these days was the memory of sound: screams, sobs, and the slamming of doors.
The Drabble (Online) March 2021
Oh, if only it were fifteen degrees warmer, we’d be inching above zero and I’d consider going out for a Saturday morning drive just to absorb a little almost-sub-zero sunshine, maybe buy My Beloved an apple fritter and try not to eat it on the ride home, listening to “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” on NPR and waving at the vacant table where I’d usually be spending my coffee-and-journal morning at Montgomery’s Café with a double slice of Mediterranean quiche, a fresh-from-the-oven Blondie, and an oversized mug of French Roast, black, with a double shot of Kahlua for good measure.
Red Wolf Journal (Online) March 2021
Last night, sleeping, alone, I saw her once again,
three times, as I’d often seen her in dreams before:
once at recycling, recycling bottles and promises,
tossing the clatterous mass into the waiting container,
and twice at the Price Chopper: once in the lot,
parking in her favorite space, her face a smile
like the store was hers alone, owning everything
in it and around it, and loving everything about it;
and again in aisle five, buying toothpaste and
mascara, aspirin and a brush, a bunch of stuff
(she would have said) she’d never need in heaven.
And even now, today, a Tuesday or a Thursday
(I can’t remember which, have lost the knack
for keeping track) I met up with her again
at the coffeeshop in the bookstore, saw her
sitting across from me at our favorite table,
my disbelief suspended by desire for just another word,
for one more moment, hoping she could see me too.
A Story In 100 Words (Online) December 2020
For an instant, just before noticing the new bank of threatening clouds conspiring on the darkened horizon, it seemed like everyone knew how to think, knew what to think; everyone knew how to feel.
No one could take their eyes off the rainbow until it faded —as all rainbows always do— and the first few burning drops of the new and far more furious downpour, promising only flood, destruction, and despair appeared.
By the time the storm reached its new-found fury, everyone had given up seeking shelter. No one had any recollection whatsoever of anything even vaguely resembling a rainbow.