Stories tagged writing

Write power

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Write power like a purring kitten eyes wide without an idea of exactly how small he is.

La Guarida del Pulpo

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Shoals of striped fish and strange eels with heads like shattered bottle necks made their way along the ocean as the pulse of the tentacled creature tugged at me, beseeching me to dive further, to give in to the lure of the salt prayers.

Guarida Del Pulpo II

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I know the creature has a bite, venomous, and perhaps its sting can paralyze. Paranoia can affect divers and cause a marbling of the arteries, bringing instantaneous death.

Why Did Uncle Patrick Leave His House to the Nuns?

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On the way home we stopped at a scraggly acre-and-a-half of stunted apple trees and wild grass. “Here it is,” you said. “My inheritance, and bad luck go with it.”

Research Notes - Single Stroke Seven

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It is within my nature, and many others I know, to cling to what’s consistent and certain: the battles fought in the war for survival and the organic camaraderie borne in the trenches. Sometimes the quest and the people we commiserate with along the way

HOSE-WATER CEREAL AND DAY-OLD SCONES: A SINGLE STROKE SEVEN MENU

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Gas station mart generic whiskey that smells sketchier than bathtub moonshine. Don’t worry about liver damage or going blind because you won’t be drinking it. You’ll need every drop to disinfect cuts and wounds since you and thousands of others in your co

Shade, Tendril, Shadow.

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On the water there's the rainbow marbling of gas from an outboard motor making a temporary pattern. The beach seems so far away, the sand so white, the colorful umbrellas giving shade to the tourists.

13 Highlights from Walks Around the Dublin Suburbs

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7. I made my confession in the Church of the Three Patrons on Friday afternoons and on Friday nights sinned against the light.

The Tecolote's Lair

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To fall to earth and not implode, to disintegrate into a tangle of crazy limbs: arms, legs, hair, and eyes like the bark of an olive tree, the result a triumph.

The family business had holes in the floorboards

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My father gravitated toward dapper: man or woman, threads, chalk bits, sharp scissors and pins of all sizes.

Purple Lady, Lavender Afternoon

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—Pretty tulips, said the woman.

Why Didn’t You Ever Mention the Dead Baby?

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A drunken aunt blabbering away about how hard a life my mother had of it. Yes, but you must have had it hard, too.

Aquarium Dreams

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The top of her dresser was covered in rings. Her fingers were unsuited to the piano and anytime she tried to raise a tune on my body the chords rang bum notes.

What Did You Look Like When You Died?

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Your corpse laid out like a great landmass, the contours and depressions lined your body between shoulder blades and ribcage, enumerating the numerous moments of sadness in your life, pooled in various shallows about the torso.

A Daydream

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The box on the table is filled with connections to other days.