JESSIE • by William F Ward
We scrabble over river rocks and gray pocked stones in the dry creek bed. I pick up a pine branch and throw it. Jessie races off, scoops it up and prances back. She pauses a yard from me, just out… Continue Reading
We scrabble over river rocks and gray pocked stones in the dry creek bed. I pick up a pine branch and throw it. Jessie races off, scoops it up and prances back. She pauses a yard from me, just out… Continue Reading
She kept coming back as a dog. Her eyes would open, her tail would wag, and she’d immediately think— Again? She returned as big dogs, small ones, fancy and mutt-like ones. Each time, each incarnation, she came back like a… Continue Reading
On the morning Bill Somers put his dog down, I was not on my porch. Most mornings I sit with tea in hand watching as the sun crests Bolduc Hill and the cool night air takes on a warm, heavy… Continue Reading
The wailing, high-pitched sound that burst from the security arch as he stepped through it was so frightening that Oscar, ruler of crystalline worlds, froze. He raised his hands to cover his ears; the female guard who had beckoned him… Continue Reading
The damn wind, it never stops. Nor the heat. A dust devil skips across the parking lot as a lone boy wanders around the back of the café, between the cars — some parked, others abandoned — calling for his… Continue Reading
That winter day my brother and I stomped through the snow for sandwiches was notable for several reasons, but for me it’s when I started to look over my shoulder, a tic I carried with me throughout my life. At… Continue Reading
At first, Gina thought the day was cloudless, but, leashing Tilda and stepping outside, she saw the entire sky was one diffuse, glaring white cloud. She fished around in her tote bag for sunglasses. Poor Tilda, blind and incontinent, barked… Continue Reading
Although it is wet and windy, Bader drives along the highway, window wound down, head poking into the gust, tongue lolling out, soaking it all in. It is one of the disadvantages of being a dog in his previous life.… Continue Reading
Asleep. Running. Chasing bushy-tail-nut-thing. It runs up leafy-tall-thing. STAY OUT OF PACK-PLACE! STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY! Much fun to chase bushy-tails. Wait… Something Not Right. Must go back to Awake-Place now. *** Awake. Something Not Right. Stand, sniff, listen. Don’t… Continue Reading
Butter sweats. Little force beyond gravity is needed to slice a pat. The knife the two men use seems to fall only through air. A bead of perspiration, its source his brow, follows the trail of its predecessor and veers… Continue Reading