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Jerry turned away from the window to face the box on wheels. Its camera would scan his face, looking for the answers.
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But this horse, he was magic... I buried him where he fell.
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12621
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This Christmas I challenge you to write something for someone in your family--not about that terrible thing that happened that one time but about that small, beautiful thing that embodies them in your mind. Publish it to fictionaut.com or your blog or yo
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1981614
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Sick of waiting for her turn, a young mother with an infant in her arms ran over to the reception desk outside the emergency room.“My baby's burning up, she needs medicine, please!” She yelled at the receptionist, but her voice was no match for the insistent…
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Alice took a moment to savor the feeling of the late afternoon October sun on her exposed skin. There was almost no wind at the moment and she felt lulled by the warmth and soft whispers of the sea. “Isn't this delicious?” …
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Something told me the glass of wine would have to wait and I listened, although for a moment it seemed as if my thoughts refused to speak to me.
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You always liked the color of your nose, raspberry red. It matched the glittery dazzle of your rainbow hair when the neon lights hit it just right, and man did they always hit it just right, the vibrant honey-yellow big-bird frizz and feathers, swaying to and fro as…
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Her light blue eyes fixed on a point to our left, past one of the church steeples poking out of the flat, charred ground – like a toothpick protecting a birthday cake from its cellophane ceiling; an untouched bethesda keeping the never-blue sky from crash
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200
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Reamer was a red-faced German boozehound if there ever was one. He married my brother’s ex-wife Beryl after Harris left her to her cheap red jug wine and ran off with his cheaper hick from Oregon swinger/nudist secretary to get married in a blowsy nudist
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200
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I know you probably don’t want to hear any more of this nudist stuff about my family and all, but this Reamer guy was a red-faced German boozehound if there ever was one. He married my brother’s ex-wife Beryl after Harris left her to her cheap red jug wine and ra
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My imagination reminded me that all of this, the two of us in the loft and the author who was struggling to face the reality of writing another novel, was a gift of sorts.
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I know you probably don’t want to hear any more of this nudist stuff about my family and all, but this Reamer guy was a red-faced German boozehound if there ever was one. He married my brother’s ex-wife Beryl, after Harris left her to her cheap red jug wi
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I heard his words and wondered what to do before he walked out the door and never returned ...
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I say the weather is cold.
You say we’re living in a modernish duplex in the West Village and the girls downstairs moved out leaving all the windows and doors open in the middle of the night. “Who moves out leaving all the windows and doors open?” you a
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