She didn't look at him. She couldn't. He used to be her father. He used to buy her sunflower seeds at the little convenience store near their home. She used to sit on his shoulders as he walked the dirt road, both of them searching the skies for the crows they could here.
He told her stories of a time when her mother dressed her in frilly dresses with lacy bloomers. He told her of how she would look all over the yard for Easter Eggs hidden within easy reach of her tiny little hands. He told her stories about...
Homeless, the art installation won first prize. John Wentworth had planned to ruin the artist Kitty More. She used his idea. The one he told her about during their snakebite drinking days. The ones when they both woke up with hangovers worthy of bad poetry, the agony of headaches.
John posted intimate, embarassing photos of her. Lovers amateur sex tapes. Recorded snores and farts. Millions of hits. She retreated from the public eye, she always had low self esteem.
But he never thought she was the suicidal type.
Falling forward, I'm falling free, falling from the tips of trees.
Falling in love, I'm falling too fast, falling for something that never will last.
Falling to pieces, I'm falling from stars, falling from heaven wherever you are.
Falling in winter, I'm falling through breeze, falling down onto my knees.
Falling for you, I'm falling from grace, falling only to land flat on my face.
Falling from above, I'm falling far below, falling where nothing ever will grow.
From the day the museum opened, the mammoth was the first thing every visitor saw. How could they miss it? It towered over the entrance when they came inside, rain or shine, its trunk high above their heads as though ready to trumpet. At least they assumed she would trumpet, but no one really knew or cared.
Designed to model a beast that lived ages ago, the poor thing stood and gathered dust on its bits that were too high for the cleaning staff to reach. So the witch, a neo-pagan from San Fran, took pity on the poor beast....
He promised me it would work. He'd be able to get me out of the tank before I ran out of breath.
Each move, each second, carefully planned for months in advance. I'd practice both still and swimming like mad, holding my breath for longer and longer periods of time. I was up to three lengths of the pool.
All the while the wife watched from a shrinking distance, suspicion crowding out any remnant of sanity in her eyes. How was she to know I was more attracted to her sister than to the husband.
I'd warned him to not...
The weather today has lifted. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. It is supposed to be 21 degrees. It feels like it. After days of rain, days of cold and grey, this is more than just a slight relief. My mood has lifted. My spirits are soaring. I feel lighter, almost as if I could float away on the breeze. Extending my arms, I test them out. Can I fly? No. Shame. It would have been nice. Different. Exciting. An adventure. Still, I have just returned from one, and that did necessitate flight, albeit in an airplane.
The...
In the darkened room, the bishop waited, staring out of the window into the dying sun. In the half-light, the Gothic buildings of the Old Town appeared as if bathed in blood. They would be soon.
The princess would come. Oh she might have sworn an oath of loyalty to her brother but in the end words were meaningless. Actions were what really counted. And in a kingdom where son could kill father, could sister not kill brother also?
She had already proved her ability. It was well known that she was one of the most able poisoners in the...
They crouched to peer beneath the stairs.
The twins had a knack for being in places they really shouldn't and this was no exception.
But really, this time it wasn't their fault.
They were identical in every way. Hair. Voice. Eyes. Mannerisms. Everything.
The two of them together, one would have never outdone the other. They were too nice for that. But if a situation required them to take on different roles, then you know that something is terribly wrong.
The one on the left had tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice would shake now when she talked. She...
Absent. That's what mom has been for the past three years since the day the front door slammed shut on her and the four carrier bags of belongings. That's all she took, her makeup and her best pair of shoes. Crocodile skin. Horrid looking things but they seemed to mean more to her than the family.
Kathleen, the youngest still kept an eye on the front path most evenings just in case mom returned. Rest of us knew that very unlikely as her latest boyfriend had been very rich and mom had always been a gold digger.
We lived with...
Joshua parked in front of the iron gate, irritated at this sign, just one of many from his absentee father. He was never there when he needed him. Where was he when he was six and skinned his knee riding his first bike? When he brought home his report card? When he needed help getting into college?
His father wasn't there when his mother died. Where was the hand of the older man when he needed comfort, standing at the grave of his closest family on a deceptively bright and sunny day? Where was he when the accident took his...