Stories
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The Box
Suddenly, I notice that there’s music playing. My hands are trembling as I hold my bag; my nails digging deep into the strap and leaving marks there. I am standing in an upright coffin, hanging freely a mile in the air. The box lurches and swings a l...
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Ode to a red flannel shirt
Oh, red shirt Buttons of black Make me flash back To feelings of hurt Sorrow, loss, but awesomesauce Memories, of her, My sister, for sure, Good times we were sharing The things we were bearing Oh, red shirt Buttons of black Make me flash back.
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The Journal
To the airport in a hurry; plane leaves soon. We run, stand in line, carry bags, we have limited time. Bags are checked; next—the gate. No time for words. She hands me a journal. No time to read it. Rushed hugs, rushed goodbyes, rushed tears and it i...
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Metafiction
I grimaced and looked away. I didn’t like this at all; this was annoying. I couldn’t think of anything good, and it frustrated me. I wished he hadn’t come over to see this. He laughed and glanced up from what I had written. “Okay, now write one...
