Thirty-one.

Thirty-one. Thirty-one always seemed like the right age to die. Not too old: people will still mourn your youth, the beautiful years of life you had in front of you. Not too young, though. Not young enough to have “barely begun to live.” If you’re too young, you don’t know what you’re giving up. If…

A Letter to the Unborn

Photo Courtesy: http://tonyfoto.com/ ________________________________________ Dear Child, You did not have a name. It’s not that I didn’t have dozens – hundreds – picked out, of course; it’s just that naming you would have made this all too real. So I will call you child, and hope you don’t find it too condescending. This world is…

Snowball

A micro story: _________________________________ A little white lie never hurt anyone. That’s how it starts. A small lie, innocent in its origins, but it grows. Like a snowball, rolling, growing imperceptibly until, quite suddenly, it’s bigger than both of you, bigger than the house, bigger than the whole god damn block. It was just a…

Buttercream, a flash fiction story.

A flash fiction story I wrote a couple months back. Enjoy. **Warning: potential trigger for former victims of sexual assault.** __________________________________ She wasn’t sure when the game stopped, but somewhere between “let’s play seven minutes in Heaven,” and the lock’s click, agitated movements replaced carefree giggles. Exhalations of stale beer shrouded strawberry bubblegum, pigtails became…

Sex, lies, and margaritas.

Very few people can pinpoint the exact day their life turned to shit. It takes years of alcoholism to destroy the liver, so you can’t nail down the day it all began. It takes at least a few months for a gambling habit to bankrupt you, so you can’t draw a circle around the date…

Fly

Tinkering with a story… _______________ The rust settled into the tines of each wheel, crept along the base, andinched its way to the white handle gripped tightly by five pudgy fingers. It had been his grandfather’s wagon first, pristine red metal and wooden grating, before his father’s. Now it was his. Flakes of oxidized metal…