Stories tagged death

Brother Dream

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It’s always daylight there My brother comes running down the sidewalk holding out his arms and calling my name He’s wearing suspenders. He’s gotten thinner in heaven He embraces me warmly wanting us to be friends I give up trying to re

Infinite Things All At Once

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That winter, I stayed up late and wore slipper socks and filed articles I’d read and liked about Zen meditators who learned to focus their minds so well they could unfocus their minds whenever they wanted.

The Serious Writer And His Hamster

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The serious writer has a hamster. The hamster is dying.

Confessions of a Non-Believer

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Closing my eyes, I try to breathe it all in, absorb the divine presence that is supposed to be here. Faith by osmosis. I guess it doesn’t work that way. God has to be here. Why else would these people be here? Why else would the congregation return w

Two Things I Did Not Know

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Their breath stank inside my lungs and tamped down the very minute amount of remorse I had left. It was replaced with contempt. Their fear warmed my cold sensibility as I steeled myself.

Swan Song

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He ignored his scalded scrotum and listened intently. The music was beautiful beyond all physical pleasure or pain. The end of the piece gave him a deeper understanding of the expression 'la petite mort'. While he was still recovering, the next track b

What I Remember

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“She’s in shock,” I heard my mom say, so I assume Jill must have asked how I was or why I wasn’t crying. I did not want to talk to anyone or have anyone talk about me, so I just watched the trees go by as we drove back home.

It's October, 1956.

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It's October, 1956 and my mother is told her sister has died. Were they sure? She had just seen her sitting in her science class that very morning, probably taking notes on emulsion and dispersion, twirling her pencil in the air as if mixing a Gimlet...

The Devil's Bedpost

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A cellphone vibrates ineffectually against unfeeling skin. One last rivulet of blood slowly oozes down the wall as it dries. The rest of the room is still.

The Sky Writer

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All eyes aim towards the heavens.


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I’m twenty eight years old, and I am dying.

Stretch Marks

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Stretch marks part my heart, stretch marks part my body.

I Don’t Understand ?

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SHE: I hate you, don't leave me. Let me drive you away so you will stay. You ask about the worst of me, what I've told nobody and hidden just out of sight. I'd say it's hidden below the surface, but I wear it on my sleeve or just under it -- so you wil

Final Resting Place of The Pen

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Purchance to dream purchase ants to dream running Catalan sidewalk schoolyard fumble days berlin wall came tumbling down tumbling down tumbling down the mexico wall come tumbling down fuck you, Gorby. Head to radio, broadcast Hitler kill the generation di


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"Ah, finally the rain stopped pouring!" She opens the window to let the sticky air out of the house. The colours outside have changed. The air is clear and the sky turns into light pink while the sun is drowning at the horizon. She takes a deep breath. The…