Stories tagged death

ash

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Years later, I found a map in my brother’s lonely apartment in L.A. “Bury me here,” he instructed in a scrawl on a map he had drawn of Woodlawn Cemetery.

Six Ways to Say Butterfly

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He repeated these six words like a prayer. His only confession.

Quid Pro Quo

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Lori, hand still on her chest, grasped at the cheap nylon of her halter dress and felt the tightly coiled roll of twenties and hundred dollar bills near her left breast. She hit the accelerator.

Descanso

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Lupe says stealing is bad whether it's from a Baptist or a Catholic.

a mother speaks to a stone

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Who made your wings? Who draped your dress? Did you hold the granite heart when they engraved it, when they set my child’s picture there?

Reburial at sea

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“Sloshes to sloshes. Drip to drip,” I said, then ceremoniously flushed the toilet bowl, our heads bowed in reverence as Molly and I gave Swimmy its last rites. Swimmy, named by Molly whose overstatement of the obvious is endearing in a three-year-old, was…

(2) Liars

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"Being honest with me," said her teacher, "will hopefully allow you to be honest with yourself--writing is about being honest, and articulating that honesty." It sounded like a riddle, and her teacher looked at her with the sanctimony of a wizard.

The Yellow Room

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...the knives she laid out on the porch before her husband left her, washed and dried, set neatly by copper pennies.

The death you are living loves you

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silence is the safest place to be when silence is what silence truly is

Intricacies

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None of the tables were cool. How did I get mixed up with this lazy crowd of mediocre mind rapists? Their hygiene was suspicious. Their eyes did not match.

An Old Peach

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Allen would stroll the remains of the orchard, reminiscing with Tad, flirting with dementia.

Jonesy's Rhino

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After Jonesy entered the bear habitat, he walked up to the biggest bear in the group and punched it square in the nose. The bear was visibly startled. I mean, bears don’t get punched that often. And there’s a reason: bears are ferocious animals.

Ghosts in the Machines

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So many Jurassic mosquitos in digital amber.

Thirteen Ways of Nevermore: Arkansas, 12/31/2010

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MIDNIGHT all day. Bleak December. A chiaroscuro, snowing blackbirds. (Pas de cinq mille, in B minor.)

(7) Plus and Minus

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"Her actions in the city seemed invariably designed to destroy that person, which she’d worked so hard all her life to become."