“Mr. Stanley, our scriptwriter has come down with writer’s block.” George Stanley scratched at the wry white and silver hairs that stuck out on the back of his head. “But it’s a computer. Shouldn’t you get a programmer?” Across from… Continue Reading
Andie woke up in the wee hours of the morning with words and images spinning in her head. She had had too much to think last night and now she could not sleep. It was Blake’s fault and she glanced… Continue Reading
I am typing quickly now, feeling better about the direction this story seems to be going. I take the last sip from my coffee and contemplate getting up to get more. I look around and calculate the odds of someone… Continue Reading
“You shouldn’t open with unattributed dialogue.” The lilting, melodic voice tickled my ear. I looked to my left to see a familiar figure wrapped in flowing fabrics of deep red and iridescent gold. She leaned in close to peer over… Continue Reading
Romo always had considered his afternoon nap a luxury, a perk of retirement. But one day that nap was more an escape, a means to knit a suddenly raveled sleeve of care. A doctor had told Romo that he would… Continue Reading
Shari rolls off of me, wipes a drop of sweat from my forehead and says, “Sometimes I feel like I could melt right through you.” I nod, breathe deep and close my eyes. “Really,” she says. “Don’t you feel that… Continue Reading
Marci and I run through the streets of Montmartre, drunk. Rain falls, turning the streetlights of Paris blurry against the dusk-time sky. Marci is barefoot, shoes in her hands, the streets too slick for high heels. She seems particularly exuberant,… Continue Reading
Donna and Mark sat down in a booth in the backwoods Georgia restaurant. The bench seat oozed stuffing, despite being repeatedly shored up with duct tape. Donna dropped her bulging tote bag on the concrete floor and glared at her… Continue Reading
I remember the day I moved in across the street from Jack Mounds. The moving men had just started loading their dollies and blankets back into the now-cavernous truck when some of my new neighbors came over bearing baskets. Mrs.… Continue Reading
Epiphany struck when Austin Jackson flushed the toilet. The bathroom, with its shining white porcelain and glittering chrome, cleaned and polished by his very own hands, was one of the few bright spots in his life. Bemused, he wandered into… Continue Reading