Her voice went on and on, whining and cackling and blaming. Peter knew she spoke out of deep unhappiness, a defensive sense of irrelevance to the rest of the world. She deserved some compassion. Continue reading “Clock’s Ticking”
“Wow! That’s beautiful…and heartbreaking. Who made this mural?”
“Trevor made this one. And take a few steps around this corner. This is one by Teresa. Yeah…it makes me tremble, too.”
“Wait! Those quiet kids who never join in on anything?” Continue reading “Still Waters”
Brilliant sun in each dew drop, diamonds poised on overgrown grass
Robin’s egg blue, crumbled and powdered, smoothed across the sky
Fresh-whipped creamy clouds, heavy dollops spooned out overhead
It seems an abomination
Hannah couldn’t stand it any longer: so many sad faces, mouths turned down with refusal after refusal, so bad that no one dared a joyful and barbaric “Yawp!” a la Whitman, or even a comic, life-saving “Yopp!” as Horton had heard it. Continue reading “Zuzu’s Petals”
Stare into its depths.
Red and orange flicker, leap and stab.
Smoky, shifting colors blacken and curl
Its abundant petals. Continue reading “Bouquet of Shadows”
We’d started loading at the dawning of the third moon. Triage overflowed after the fifth wave from the Kipstanian Crisis. We tried to get the word out to all survivors; transport off our doomed planet ended today. Continue reading “Before The Gold Rush”
At the base of a mountain, a glacial stream sweeps past the edge of a small forest clearing. Two teen brothers squat in the twilight, near a tangle of copper tubes and tin barrels, their close-cropped hair burnt to summer straw. Continue reading “The Still”