Stories tagged writing

Old-fashioned Radio Dial

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Red-bricked houses and four boys running rampant, singing, “armored cars and tanks and guns.”

A Dish best Served Unnoticed

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There was a moment when I expected you to murder me in my sleep.

Open Letter To The Troll

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It’s like something out of Superman’s Bizarro World where everything is the opposite of what it’s supposed to be.


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In my pocket, my fingers rubbed lint and thread together, a complete absence of coin.

Crossing Open Water

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She didn’t like the way the car company fellow spun the gravel in her driveway as he exited the gates.

For FAther

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Post the absolutism, the fall.An upside down apple is a fragileImage and Nation together createN-trop(-e) chér my dear.Gallivanting about the frosted country-SIDE of lamb with mint sauce for afters.Ministrations to the dead.The body empty-D of all blud, dryin the cold…

The Bitter Light of the Single Bulb

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Running the gauntlet to the toilet in the dark meant finding a way past the loose boards and the possibility of being caught and dragged under like a drowning victim. No lifeguard stood sentinel on the landing, only the bitter light of the single bulb—40w

A Thin Line of Brown...

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O’Riain was an old-school teacher, trained by savages, who drummed learning into the skulls of Ireland’s youth.

Murder—My Legacy

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After the box was in the ground, we dumped the soil on top and patted it down tightly in case the bird came back to life and haunted us.

My FBI File

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He stated that these articles have appeared in two dozen issues of City Paper and that he is paid by its editorial board for these articles. He explained that his articles are "an inter-mixture of fiction and fact" and are "highly romanticized in order t

The Eve of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception

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Hope, like a hangover, coiled and crawled from the bed. A pillow. Make-up streaked painter’s palette and the refracted light from the pond a half-mile away, some scurred and big-puffed clouds sadly tolling by.

All Is Free

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--My first wife is now dead. My second wife is pretty. She has a twisted foot. I have bought her a white dress.

Some Kind of Prize

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At eighteen he did 500 push-ups a day, loving the burn of lactic acid in his muscles.


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Outside the Green Zone everything is brown.

Apparition of the BVM

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The hose was used to suffocate the parish priest.