Reconnect
Today I rocked, I wrote, I plucked my strings, I nailed a poem called “the little things” and then I did a victory dance around the house, and I don’t mean just on the inside.
Category: Short Stacks
Quick reads, scenes, scenarios, riffs off the cuff, or perhaps even a rant if you’re lucky.
Pajama Party
My grandmother always said, “Moderation in everything,” and of course she’s right. I should have heeded her advice tonight. I wonder, if my grandpa had heeded her advice more often, would he have needed the Alka-Seltzer less often?
Coven Pool
Time to make more croutons.
The Hearts She Will Have Broken
I knew this little girl once in a sunlit classroom when I was little too. She had the deepest eyes of brown that would burst open to the color of swirling oblivion. They did so once right before mine. I dared to glimpse into them for as long as I …
Declassified
This world loves its labels. So I’ve labelled this “Declassified.” It’s a Ghost’s story for this new year’s night but to the rangers, witches, and wolves among us it is a howl flung in your direction, a notice served, a warning or perhaps a confirmation, a blank postcard from parts …
Corporation Service Specialist
“How are you doing this morning?” asked the headphones on the other end of the line, presumably wrapped around a head that was still trying to wrap itself around a script. “Fine,” I replied. But I thought this: I’m in the ebb trying to flow. The moon must be waxing. …
The Cocktail Story
Vintage Words from the Back RoomThis little slurry was dredged from the fiery and rum-soaked memoirs of an ombudsman with an ample expense account on the medical convention tour sometime around the turn of the century. I sat outside all night in the Special Dark writing by a Bacardi Light. …
Hey Seabass!
When it was too late, “Freedom. It doesn’t exercise itself,” is what I wish I would have left on the counter with my tip, but the thought didn’t think itself until I was back in the truck where I could hear myself think. Dammit.
Broken Stack
I hadn’t learned about them in school yet, numbers less than Zero, but by the time I learned to count to Ten I knew that, naturally, they were there holding the rest up. Zero wasn’t doing it all by himself. Or maybe he was. He was certainly capable. Unique as …