This time, when Sheila breaks up with Rick, she uses fishing line, two bent nails, and her ex-boyfriend’s hammer. She strings the tripwire taut, eight inches high, across the doorframe of his side entrance, guesstimating the placement of the posterboard… Continue Reading
The machine hisses, steam rises, liquid drips. Pale skin, black hair, blue eyes: the unsmiling and tattooed worker moves in a measured way. With his uninjured eye he traces the lines of the mortar in the brickwork behind her; with… Continue Reading
Each year, when the nights in New England lengthen, and the days cool, as we begin to shed our leaves in preparation for a long winter’s sleep, a natural phenomena occurs. Throngs of strange creatures appear. We see these creatures… Continue Reading
They tried not to notice my voice was too loud at the funeral. I’m the quiet one.My skirt was too short. I’m the modest one. They admonished me quietly when I got detention but I saw the panic in their… Continue Reading
The first time I drove the entire way up Emigration Canyon and realized the freeway connected to Park City and it was as though all the barriers I’d grown up with fell down. The first time I drove my car… Continue Reading
It was her birthday and Bob went all out. He spent a fortune on Evette’s dress and half a year’s salary on the dinner party. He mentioned the dress several times during the meal which embarrassed Eve to no end.… Continue Reading
Foamy beer sloshed from a dozen tiny plastic cups onto Alanna’s lap. “Shhhit!” She leapt off the barstool, glaring at the redhead who had spilled the tray of drinks. The cold liquid now resembled a kindergarten accident on her jeans.… Continue Reading
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nathan asks. He sounds hurt. My foot traces figures of eight in the water. We are sitting on the jetty leading out to the lake. It’s still warm. There’s a pair of spotted ducks gliding… Continue Reading
A week after they drained the reservoir, the dead returned to the glen. The first reports came from contractors hired to dismantle the old dam. They spoke to the local paper about corpses in the glen, walking the newly exposed… Continue Reading
I see them all; the titles people don’t know they have floating above their heads. Usually they’re pretty benign. “The Father” or “The Architect” or something else run-of-the-mill. I thought I’d seen them all a thousand times. I was young… Continue Reading