Stories

Funny how it’s always the teeth. On the news, I mean. Or CSI, one of the two. After all the hopeful posters and the tearful parents and the trawls of woods and the charred remains. After all is said and done, I suppose. After all of that, there’s st…

It is not a good day. They wheel me to the Alzheimer’s unit, the scaly anteater rolled up in a basket next to me. For a while I don’t even look at it, I’m so incensed. via Pocket

Mitch and me were too busy figuring out how to handle Mom’s new form to take care of the lawn. via Pocket

Out of Gin I had been in the crawlspace for a while, cobweb strands like birthday streamers. I was thinking about juniper. I considered a garden. I debated buying gloves, growing the plants, finding a distributor. I had stepped onto a wet batch of w…

It has been two weeks since my wife last laughed. At dinner, she shuffles her food around the plate, but doesn’t eat. She goes to bed early and wakes up late, barely in time for work. She moans in her sleep and burns hot, sweating through the sheets…

There had been no meat for too long. Mother’s pups, now weaned off her milk, whined and yipped when she returned to the den, her jaws and belly empty. The squirrels and rabbits had gone, and nothing remained but parched desert and scorching heat. vi…

The stories all start the same way. A man goes fishing at night, and because the weather is calm and the tide is moving fast he guides his boat to the glittering vee between the two riptides that meet at the foot of the lighthouse. via Pocket

They made a game of it, taking their girls downstairs to the basement where there were no windows. The father had games for the girls down there. On Friday nights, he would drink beer after work, playing records for them. via Pocket