Tag Archives: short story

No…it didn’t start here. Not with the pissed man clutching a crushed beer can in fear on his knees. Not with the other over the wall…somewhere…spilt.  After all, it’s only been how many hours? since I stopped staring at the blank wall of the TV. Only so many hours since I’d finally started listening to that otherContinue reading “Nothing.”

No one notices when you slip away, even in the bright orange light of a late autumn afternoon. Instead they sit on their daisy porches unaware of the chill in the air, complaining idly about the Penchant house’s awful lawn. “It’s rats,” says one of them, sipping a sour lemonade. “It’s this drought!” coughs another,Continue reading “Devil’s Fingers”

Lights off we’d crashed hard onto his grandma’s old sectional, still spinning after yet another long night out during that fateful summer, which was dreary and hazy and covered in smoke. And through that indoor fog of comfortable darkness Aleks had mumbled on, somewhat-lucid, about his dreams: how none were the same, but that theyContinue reading “Fire Out”

He’d said two days. We are hungry. We have shirts wrapped over our noses from the smell. This life is very different, far from Papa’s old brown recliner or Mama’s familiar smell. Plus, no one knows how long the dark man with the white eyes has been gone.

Joshua. He likes me, but I don’t like him because his fingers are always cheesy. So are his teeth. He pulls up his socks too high and is always breaking bones. When he was in a body cast I used him as a coat hanger. Another time, I found my school picture in his geometryContinue reading “Second Monday”