I had never seen anyone play the fiddle like her. To be fair, though, I hadn’t seen those many fiddlers playing on stage. I am not the most musical person. Jan was, and he reckoned that she wasn’t that good.… Continue Reading
I confronted Mr Creepings on the stairs. “Have you seen my dog?” His thin lips twisted into a smile. “Did you lose your Pomeranian?” “She’s vanished,” I said. “I think she was killed…” Mr Creepings scratched dirt from under his… Continue Reading
Dear Indigo, It’s Marissa Flores. I’m writing you tonight because I couldn’t sleep. A year ago, you skipped away to wherever you are now. I hope one day you’ll see this, which is why I never say goodbye. I almost… Continue Reading
The lure bobbed in the cold murky water. Its bright orange and yellow colors glistened from the moisture on the ball, reflecting the hazy overcast sky on its tough plastic surface. Luke was excited. After nearly three hours without so… Continue Reading
Clink. The sound of my footfall reverberated across the island, swelling to a loud chime before subsiding. It wasn’t the sound I expected. Blood ran down my cheek. I was exhausted from the swim, and the crash into the sea… Continue Reading
The cotton absorbs the tea’s bitterness, the paroxysmal pain. It engulfs him, fills him. The last time Wind had known such pleasure, there’d been a needle hanging out of his seeping, abscessed arm. Then he’d received the Knowing Sky’s cryptic… Continue Reading
Mrs. Ticktock spreads a tarp on the floor and places a machine of her own invention at the center of the room. The tall yellow cylinder with three silver gooseneck limbs ending in red, blue, and yellow funnels could be… Continue Reading
Frieda Jacobson drives west on I-80, her ten-year-old son Ron in the back. “Daddy gonna meet us at our new home?” Frieda lowers the visor of her small Chevy coupe against the glare of the setting sun. “Nope, and you… Continue Reading
The girl stood stock-still, her arms at her sides, on a bus bench along a two-lane road near a fast-food restaurant. She had on a ragged purple corduroy jumper and a blouse that never would be white again. A backpack… Continue Reading
My younger sister, Julie, sits on my bed cross-legged, watching me pack. Even though it’s only April my ten-year-old sister wears beige shorts, a pink T-shirt over a one-piece bathing suit. The purple pansies on the bathing suit can be… Continue Reading