There was the completely avoidable car accident that resulted in the death of our friend Jonah, then there was the funeral, followed by the reception at his mom’s townhouse where everyone kept crying and Jonah’s attractive sister Leah went around… Continue Reading
Sometimes there’s a moment so quiet right after the exhaled breath when there is no breath, and an interval between two lives is suddenly bridged. My name is William, Wendell or Wallace. I’m not sure which. At this moment, it… Continue Reading
“Doin’ it myself,” Chris said, lighting a cigarette and inhaling. These are going to kill you. “Yeah?” he said, trying to pay attention to his task over the sound of distant voices. “So can drinking sodas.” Chris looked at his… Continue Reading
When I was young my brother left for the war. He died several months after in action. He was a hero by all standards. Incredibly jealous was I, but I was born wrong and would forever be denied. A year… Continue Reading
I’ve never shot a gun, and suddenly, Quinton is pressing the grip of a long-nosed revolver into my palm. I don’t anticipate its weight. The chilly steel. We’re cousins, but I’m new to life in Parched River. I’m used to… Continue Reading
I was thirteen when Daryl Harrison fell off our grain bin. Zach brought me along once to go visit him in the hospital. I remember clenching onto the plastic railing of the footboard of his bed. It all happened on… Continue Reading
Arthur’s mouth felt like he bit into a jalapeno when his phone buzzed. It was his dentist. “That bastard better not be trying to cancel my appointment,” he muttered. The light turned green, the car in back of him beeped,… Continue Reading
How could anyone sleep through that? He sounded like an asthmatic chainsaw. The sound wasn’t the worst of it, though. It was those gaps, when the sound ceased, where she hoped that maybe, just maybe he’d stopped — snoring, breathing.… Continue Reading
My sister was thirteen when she died. All crooked and soft white like a dogwood flower floating on the water. I heard my mother sobbing on the phone that she had broken her neck nearly to a ninety-degree angle, a… Continue Reading
A nurse unplugs me from something. Aggie bites her lower lip. Our son and daughter and their spouses look ready to cry. Even my oh-so-world-weary teenaged grandson swallows hard. If I could, I’d whisper, “Rosebud.” Anything to lighten things up.… Continue Reading