John finds himself in that intangible space that exists between dream and conscious. It is this space that he now, unknowingly, loves more than anything else. Here he is free from the nightmares that terrorise his sleep and free of… Continue Reading
It floats in front of me, close enough that I can almost grab the gossamer thread trailing behind as it lands on the floor, then makes its way under the accent rug. I call out to Mark, that low-to-high question,… Continue Reading
Stranded. Four weeks or thereabouts. I followed the phase of the moon from full, wane to wax then full again. A month in paradise. Stranded in bliss. Why paradise? Solitude, that’s why. Peace, but for the almost-silent lap of the… Continue Reading
Listen to “A Good Use” by J. Chris Lawrence, read by Folly Blaine: [display_podcast] A fan of all things fiction, J. Chris Lawrence spends most of his time writing, though he’s also been known to dabble in music, sculpting, sketch… Continue Reading
Maria is late. She works at the Gap store in the mall and was supposed to get out a half an hour ago. I am near the mall exit waiting for her. Arms folded, I lean against the black, imitation… Continue Reading
Teenage ghosts hound me, plague me — compel me to their hidden, rotting corpses left unclaimed and un-eulogized and beg me to dig them up. It’s a gruesome task, but what choice is there? The siege is worse when I… Continue Reading
“Honey,” my wife shouts from the living room. “Call the mechanic. Professor Bigglesworth messed the carpet.” After taking a few moments to process what she has said, I enter the living room and find Professor Bigglesworth frozen to her favorite… Continue Reading
They wouldn’t find her here, inside her castle of words. This place radiated knowledge; it would repel dimwits like them. They wouldn’t want to trade their brawn for brains, now would they? Even so, she tucked herself into the farthest… Continue Reading
Maybe it was the heat. Or the dust. Or the flies. Or all three. The sun hammered down and the dust rose up and hell, that’s just how it was in Sicily. Then we got off the ships and looked… Continue Reading
A soft pop and a wisp of fog escaped from the mouth of each bottle as she opened them. Saturday was nearly over, the heat was dissipating, and she was finally home. She leaned against the counter, tipped her head… Continue Reading