The fire had been burning for eight hours, but the earth was still not soft enough. Just as Harold predicted. It had been an unforgiving winter: sub-zero temperatures for months, ice storms, and buckets of snow. It had taken Harold… Continue Reading
I want to swim in the ocean with her. But I can’t. She’s sitting in my lap scrolling through the images of her mother and me. The computer screen is a useless time machine that can’t change the past. The… Continue Reading
Jim Oldman stood at the top of the world, watching the immense arc of the moon crest the horizon and rise into a sky that was indigo and would soon deepen to black. It was a special moon. A super… Continue Reading
Alkina opens wide one eye against the cold steel of her late husband’s telescope and remembers on a clear night, less than three months ago, Mare Fecunditatis, appearing so close she would have sworn water lay there. That morning he’d… Continue Reading
Paul never liked the refrigerator. His husband had been the one who wanted stainless steel. “But fingerprints wipe right off this one,” he explained when Paul pointed to an eggshell model across the showroom. The refrigerator had drawers for everything… Continue Reading
My paddle glides through tranquil waters, reflecting my image but obscuring what lies beneath. A fish jumps skyward then plunges into the swampy depths, startling me out of my trance. I look around. Everyone is still here, slinking through the… Continue Reading
The autumn’s morning fog has thinned to steam by the time Roland Adder’s rusted-out-red pick-up reaches the grove’s edge, dilapidated horse trailer in tow. Beneath swaying skeleton-finger branches, maple and oak leaves crackle under his bowlegged gait as he plods… Continue Reading
I glance at the photograph of my wife, then step outside ready to meet the other woman. Rain pours onto the roof of my porch sounding an accusing hum. Rain. Is that a sign? It was raining the day I… Continue Reading
I’ll readily admit that I was drunk the first time I saw my wife’s ghost. My friends had taken me to O’Shaughnessy’s after Karen’s funeral, and yes, I was planning on getting solid, blackout drunk. What I wasn’t planning on,… Continue Reading
Thunder rumbled overhead as Beaumont Whitley sat reclined in his chair, enjoying a pipe and a good book. Glancing up, he noticed a shadowed figure creep past the window. Beaumont closed the novel and set his Meerschaum aside. Would it… Continue Reading