Stories tagged homeless

Bottle, man

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“Hey man,” this shadow shimmied up beside Brett heaving ether breath. Brett saw but he didn’t see him in the way you see movement in the corner of your vision, an annoyance, an eyelash in the eye. He didn’t want to turn to engage this man, he didn


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She noticed the bony claws protruding from under the tattered cloak, the sagging ectoplasm that seemed to drip from the specter's gaseous mouth.

Outer Space Visitor

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"Hello earthlings. I am an alien here from Mars." My ears immediately perked up and my curiosity piqued. I had never been to Mars and I had always wanted to go. Perhaps he could help me. NASA was way too expensive and if he had a spaceship I could easi

Uniquely Portland

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He saw his mother standing over him, and he called out to her for help, but she only laughed and faded into the paper towel dispenser.


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blueberry tea and vodka on a Friday night

Annals of the Naked Rowdies #3

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They swarmed over him like a pack of dingos on a baby.

Need food for family

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The young man pulls out his wallet, grabs a couple of bills and stops short of handing them to the bedraggled man. “So how do I know you’re not going to go out and buy some crack with this money?”

Curly’s Fiddle

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Curly was officially named Richard Benjamin Alphonse by his father the day he was born, but due to his curly mop of auburn hair he was forever after called Curly. From birth on he had a stubborn streak and chose his own road, quitting school at seventeen, traveling…

Track 8

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I imagine this man in a warehouse full of needles. I know he's lying.


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Past the pavilion, past the factory, past the underside of the bridge where the surfers jimmy their sloppy fingers over the oil barrels.

Until Again

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Methuselah. That’s what they call him, the regulars that ride my train. Other things too, but Methuselah is the one that sticks in my mind. It seems to fit. It’s not as cruel.


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I'm a peace projector a debunkler, a hypnosis therapeutically induced

Keep the Change

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Jacob could tell it was a man he had just walked past, a broken man with an olive green Vietnam era military jacket, a man who had probably served his country as honorably as anyone chosen at lottery and forced to kill for a subsistence wage…

Stumptown Mary

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so one time the Holy Ghost come down to Stumptown

Outside Starbuck’s on the Way to Work

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I always step around his mess...