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And without further ado, The Author.
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123998
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She wonders if he will do the dishes. He said that he would, but that doesn’t mean anything. He said he would do them last week, said he would save money, said he would come home last night. He didn’t do any of those things, either.
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123900
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The struggling creature opened its beak and let out a shrill cry before both parents moved in and, using their webbed feet, forced its head back under the surface.
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123944
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In my dreams I am cremated in the burning Library of Alexandria.
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123922
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For two days his parents had been fighting, and they would tell him to tell the other one something every morning that was supposed to be some sort of slight at their personal failings, which had been inflamed by their twenty years of marriage.
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I have the right to remain silent. If I waive that right everything I say can and will be used against me like a razor dragged across my neck.
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12391213
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No one has touched me for a long, long time and I believe that is why I am dying. This is a notion that is new to me but it has persisted over the last few weeks and I believe I finally have apprehended the truth. There was a time, I remember all too well, when I might…
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123912
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she goes jogging with the feet of an angel the sound of crunching leaves like wrapping paper torn open to reveal an expensive doll and the light in her mother's eyes.
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Even when the sun is gone and things get dark, usually the moon comes to reflect some light of hope until a new dawn can emerge
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When sixth-grade science teacher Pat Farrell assigns an earth-science lab on measuring crystals, the girls collect their materials, read the directions and follow the sequence from beginning to end. The first thing boys do is ask, “Can we eat this?"
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123931
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Flish flash, flish flash, flicker of triangle lights. As he deparks, I say, “See that girl?” She crosses at the stop sign with blond hair flip, flash of white teeth: rips cookie from wrapper, drops wrapper on ground. “I bought her a…
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But I don't see the cabinets, or know how to put the 4 chapters he's talking about today into the drawers that are invisible, floating, above his bed he's been in for a year, me sitting next to him, becoming a spinster.
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So I lopped off his head and reworked the creation...
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“Now,” my friend said. “Tell us about earthquakes. Can we expect one anytime soon?”
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One day it was boring / to be alive.
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Okay, so it's not exactly the lost art of sweeping anything away . For the sad fact that no one searing Love endures just for us. Brown, folded Petals, yellows buttered over petals, I do not Wait to see if the floating moon Can at…
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Not to...Witness such sufferingWatch as a life fades awayReceive the callAttend this funeralBe surrounded by well meaning family and friendsStand by helplessly as my father sobs in his brother's armsNotice the pain settle in my brother's eyesSee my grandparents' tortured,…
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She had a face like a frog: wide mouth, prominent eyes – and when she touched him, her fingers felt clammy on his skin.
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Jaume jumped up from the bar, a wide smile across his face. He hugged his old friend and planted a kiss on his wife's cheeks. He was buzzing from the chance encounter, marveling how life had brought them together after all these years. There had to be a r
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Damien, my boyfriend, talks me back to sleep when I wake up in the middle of the night, he doesn't judge me for being afraid of the dark, or being lost at sea, he simply listens to me breathlessly explaining why I'm awake— again— at 3:32 in the…
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Forgetting her inhibitions, she dove for him.
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When John wakes up, the first thing he does is run a bath, because his shower is broken, and while the bath is running he gets his breakfast ready.
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Looming ahead was another polite suburban party at which, after a couple of pops, I'd say something that embarrasses my wife in front of her girlfriends. Or so she claims.
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“Somebody told me you write books.”
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Only blood I got on me was pulling him over onto my seat when I got out.
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Blast! crashed through
Shelter of car
Violence! of blow!
On window glass
It winced! on
Four wheels
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the wind mistook your arms for wings
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I don't mind being dead. It's ok. Really. I've discovered a whole new way of being based on non-being. What else can you do? I like being invisible. I like groaning and rattling chains. I used to be a writer. Still am. In fact, it might be more accurate to say that…
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I kept a journal
for so many years
I've forgotten
everything I wrote.
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Crawl to the dark places I love most, loud music and off key laughter, glimmering green and brown bottles eagerly holding the dim lights overhead inside themselves like ransomed stars.
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