Stories tagged faith


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"Isn't it time to remove the nails, and put Jesus to rest once and for all," Mary asks.

Can I Take My Gun Up To Heaven?

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I thought of Ruth burrowed deep in the nest of her closet and quickly jumped into the footlocker. I nearly stopped breathing as he entered his bunker.

What if god was one of us?

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an old Black woman, a sequined black cap poised on the left of her crown of black infused gray hair.  A gray wool shawl that seemed to perfectly match her hair's color wrapped her all the way down to her hips, where a battered pair of blue jeans rested

like a child

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where is the magic at? the spit the dirt or the words?


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The sun browbeat me relentlessly, like a one-eyed judge with an unforgiving heart.

Movies and Songs

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But I am quite sure, in my loneliness, there is nothing that aches inside me more, than a desire to persist.

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?

Wavering Faith

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Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son

Examination of Faith (And the Big Bang)

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The marble, it's just there. I can't explain how it got there (or when), all I know is that everything is in that marble. By "everything," I mean every thing. Your breakfast? It's there.

A Place Called Hope

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It is a prayer he is saying, and it comes with the scent of apples, rotten. And terrible roses, all wanting something from him, something he can't give. He doesn't believe that he'll rise like the holy one, and go up, and be saved. He came here looking for something…

Freeing Annabel Lee

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It drifted into the sea, I say, when you ask me about home. You’ve only known me for a few moments, so you’re not sure how to gauge me. You laugh, and make an Annabel Lee reference. The English teach in me wants to hug you. The New Jersey in me wants

The Conversion

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She became suited to herself only. She no longer tried in any way to fit, she fought the molds they created and kept moving in her own direction. Often forward, sometimes a bit backward, and she rightly scaled her own Mt. Olympus and there she sat with he


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But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she

Remedial Reading

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move your lips as you read/ if you can’t read aloud

Remedial Reading

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move your lips as you read/ if you can’t read aloud// unless it’s an annual report--