A Halloween drabble. Happy Halloween to all!

Wind was a sorry excuse for force

In the backyard with Joey, I make the mistake of answering him honestly when he asks what the gray brick in the dirt is for. “My parakeet is buried there,” I say. And he asks, “can we dig it up?”Joey's grandma lives down the street; he comes over…

The mother continued to stand, marooned in her isolation and Isis' hostility in between table and bed and under the overhead which cast a blue tinge, she held the newspaper- The Daily Mail- which embarrassed Isis- aloft and at an angle, one leg position

while you peed on that little old lady's begonias

Camilla and I watched a movie, then we were the movie. A man wandered in a decrepit house, or in a dream of a house, which had wallpaper hanging like shredded flesh and little mounds of filth and a madwoman with a butcher knife creeping from room to room with fear or…

He gave her everything she hoped for, with the exception of two things.

You’re a glimpse at immortality, a pathway to transcend the body, to the sphere just outside, where time ceases to matter and the ball of the sun grows warm in our bellies. I’ll love you more than the next lover and never as much as the lovers before y

" . . . the government works for the aliens now, taking over the world. That's why everything's so screwed up."

It's important to sound human, I know To get fragile near your mother I myself get glimpses now and then

4. If you wear size 13, you'll trip a lot.

I remember the days when my brother and I would walk down Tillman Square, careful to avoid the cracks zigzagging along the ground. Well I did. My brother made a point to step on every one.

Joanne Simpson sat in her pew of the church that dominated her tiny town, listening to the buzzing of disturbed voices like a hive of bees trapped in a wall. She knew exactly what was wrong. Some parishioners sat on the edge of the pews, while some whispe

It's advertised as a romance. The poster shows a Sudanese woman with a child at her side collecting gum from Acacia trees.

Leaning toward Joshua, Stuart says softly, “Take it easy, okay? We’ll bury him. He shouldn’t be left here, in your kitchen.” Joshua glares. “Don’t you fucking move him.”