(Looking & Mission, Jan 20-21)
Hunched just behind the shrub-encircled tree, he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s grown to love the sunny-morning scent that precedes the screech and bang of the screen door, the soft pad of bare feet on cold, painted cement, followed by the softer hush of those feet crossing the grass. The wooden chair groans as she lowers herself onto its cool slant and tucks her legs out of the dew. Continue reading
Sister Indelicata left the cacophony of squeals and laughter behind her; the tall, hardwood door sneezed delicately shut, blessing the happy, healed family. Indelicata’s bare feet whispered swift and sure, softer than the guttering of the beeswax candles that provided more scent than light. Continue reading
“So, you think if I hop there, launch to the next one over, and make that final leap, it’ll take me across the water, fast enough and close enough to be safe?” Continue reading
Meaghan drew deep on her cigarette, pinching its stub between thumb and forefinger. She could pull a Houdini and just disappear, but in this case, with this guy, she knew he deserved better. Continue reading
“Strange men. Is there any other kind?” she sighed, scanning the row of heavy, shaggy heads bent over the bar rail. Continue reading
Short stories online
...and the rest of the world
Stories and photos from Scotland
Music, art and performance around Minnesota
An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart
A Fairy Tale Blog
Where writers gather
the strange and dark and beautiful
Valley of the Trolls 