If Richard was going to commit suicide—and this time, he really was—he wasn’t about to make some elaborate production of it. He refused to leave behind a situation which needed cleaning up. That meant not hanging himself, not slitting his… Continue Reading
When I was nine, my dad warned me about the dangers of dreaming. “You know, it’s like if you drink too much water, it shuts down the electrical connections and you just keel on over,” he’d said in his woodchip… Continue Reading
Jacob, a TV journalist for a regional station, was setting up the shot with Tommy, his cameraman, when Eris first approached him. “I saw what happened,” she said. “You saw the trampoline take off?” Jacob asked, giving her a quick… Continue Reading
First day of a new spring still dawns gray and drear, dampness lingering in the chill morning air, and this will persist, forecasters say, for several more. But then the sun, at last comes sun, yellow gold morning and evening,… Continue Reading
When Ella Marie first woke up one morning with a rechargeable desk fan for a head, she found it infuriating that nobody noticed the change. Her husband’s calm, breakfast-in-mouth greeting of “You look lovely as always, dear,” made her want… Continue Reading
Don Fernando had acquired great wealth throughout his life, some of it even legally. He built himself a huge bungalow mansion on the crest of a hill overlooking his property — a Celtic orange grove, a tennis court, a hedge… Continue Reading
You bring your ghost-boyfriend to your parents’ house for dinner. And everyone immediately freaks out. “What are you talking about? A GHOST for a BOYFRIEND,” says your father after he comes around to the reality that this isn’t a prank.… Continue Reading
As a tadpole, I spent my days lounging atop the spongey remains of yesterday’s dinner or soaking in the gurgling, acrid pool I called home. I whipped my tongue at falling bits of meat and beans. When bored, I practiced… Continue Reading
“I’m sorry,” said the clerk looking down on me with a sympathetic look on her face, “but we’re all out of Joy. Could I interest you in a box of Cheerfulness?” I looked at the shelf and saw the gaping… Continue Reading
The Collector, through no shortage of hearsay, means and compulsion, met one M. Muñoz underneath the Old Bridge. Birthplace unknown, age unknown, first name unknown, dubious wedding band on ring finger, Muñoz bled into his work—cut open his body and… Continue Reading