A MAN’S DOG • by Dan Keeble
Tom saw the smirk approaching. There was no way to avoid it. Worse still, it was spread across the face of Conor. If ever a snigger or sneer needed removing with the back of a hand, it would belong to… Continue Reading
Tom saw the smirk approaching. There was no way to avoid it. Worse still, it was spread across the face of Conor. If ever a snigger or sneer needed removing with the back of a hand, it would belong to… Continue Reading
Dark green yarn. Black button eyes. Stiffly-starched wings. The amigurumi Cthulhu sat on the edge of my desk, watching over my classroom. Its eyes peered into the void of a thousand teenage souls — the dreadful thing had been with… Continue Reading
As I walk the boundary of my property after dusk, I don’t trust my eyes. I’m trying to make sense of various shapes around me. Shadows lurking behind trees are like people hiding from me. Bushes, jutting out from the… Continue Reading
I work a mixture of peat and shredded leaves into the hole, then arrange the bulbs pointy end up before blanketing them with a few inches of dirt. Planting crocuses is supposed to keep me from offing myself in the… Continue Reading
Did I tell you about the geranium I grew from a cutting? I stole it from someone’s front garden as I raced for a bus one day. This huge unruly bush — which someone should have pruned — spilled over… Continue Reading
Breath by breath, step by step, he wills his body toward the darkening skyline. Tired legs, weak legs, legs wet from trudging through the snow come to a gradual rest. Pine trees flitter in the wind, a biting wind that… Continue Reading
If I ignore the door hanging half off its hinges and the swallow’s nest surveying the dust from beneath the exposed center beam, Nana’s cottage is little changed from fifteen years ago, when Dad left me here to “find my… Continue Reading
I found it on the counter by the microwave, under a stack of yellowing envelopes. It was sticking to the bottom of the pile and I would have missed it altogether when I picked them up had it not leapt… Continue Reading
I found the three men sitting in a London restaurant, gathered around a table, deeply engrossed in studying a map of England’s West Country. I was intrigued, so went over to talk to them. Their names were George, Harris and… Continue Reading
From where he lay on the roof, Ballard caught a flicker of light from her bedchamber. No more than 500 feet. A clear night, low breeze. Perfect to take the shot. So it had come to this. He sighed and… Continue Reading