They looked like girl’s jeans. Matt held them against himself in the mirror. Not that girl’s jeans were a mark against them. Usually, girls had better jeans anyway. Matt took two of the biggest pairs out of the big chest in his grandmother’s back closet.

Growing up in Mississippi meant growing up in a “dry” State which it was until 1966. Dry State meant selling alcoholic beverages, except for beer, is illegal. Period. By period I mean there was no distinction between selling whiskey and stuff to adults and…

Tension slipped from my grip on the dagger as my legs and faith fell apart.

And out on that lake that day you yelled “desperation please!” And I heard “desperate pleas?” I wondered about first impressions.

"She began singing The Police song, 'Roxanne' in a falsetto voice, just like Sting."

Mulberry Street was once filled with people. Just going about themselves; day to day, minding their business. To school, to work, to deliveries, or to personal priorities, it all came to halt. What Marissa saw was unlike anything she experienced in her li

He’d tossed and turned all night, pondering what to do, afraid she was living alone. He’d decided to email her two words: “Love you” and signed it “Scary Sal,” as she’d always seemed so afraid of him.

Flash’s hackles stood brushlike but he kept his head bowed just enough beneath the bigger dog’s stare to delay the inevitable fight. Flash, Mal thought approvingly, would pick the time and place.

I'm not sure if this is breaking the rules of Fictionaut, but here's a trailer of a poetry tour of Europe I did earlier this year. We hope to break it down into webisodes soon enough to highlight the brilliant readings, brilliant local poets and such that you can find not…

when down the street/ a female cat/ yowls with the force/ of a red light blazing/ in an alley.

Unapproachable... for all that.

"...easier to get milk from a male tiger than mercy from him."

Nancy's brother, Ronnie would wait until church was out and pull the bench up to the piano play and sing show tunes, even humming them loudly if he didn't remember the lyric. Crooning away — as if he had the lead in a Broadway musical. Well, that was part of it,…

I looked around in my pantry but there were no sentences I felt like cooking.

Blending in at a rock concert in ballet flats was harder than I thought it would be. The heavy eye makeup and lit cigarette I never brought to my lips put me somewhere between “Trying Too Hard” and “Bless Her Heart.”