path of the dead

Path of the Dead

The path of a ghost is etched into the earth, hammered and chiseled by heeled boots, flat leather soles, and the barest of feet. I follow the prints up and over the rise. There is a man standing by the car, smartly dressed in

shadows anonymous

Shadows Anonymous

It happened at night, the separation. The wet snap and the gradual split and Lester’s body became thoughts and wind as he drifted out the window of the man’s loft. Lester woke miles away, alone and dark and long in the rising light of the

beware of dog

Beware of Dog

I tell myself that…   they won’t know I didn’t find the character that pulled the entire story together until the end, because of course there had to be a Franciscan nun showing up at his door wait…not a nun, a black dragon that blows confetti out

Late Night TV

Late Night TV

That old TV never did work, but that didn’t stop grandad from sitting out by the garage to stare at the thing for hours. It was my job to keep his glass of lemonade filled up while he was out there. He would hush me

neighborhood hangout

Neighborhood Hangout

He was gone long enough that the sting should’ve eased. But it hadn’t. She saw him everywhere like he’d touched everything and branded it his before leaving. It started a few weeks back, her moving out pieces of furniture from the house. Carrying lamps

Alien Ride Along

Alien Ride Along

You don’t need to believe in urban legends or myths, to make them true. Take the multiple UFO sightings in New Mexico. You’ve heard about them, maybe even seen them for yourself—the glowing disks or triangles of light.   Speculations of alien spies have been around for

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Guardian of Time

Some say the Guardians of Time created this door to drive men insane. But that’s a bunch of malarkey. This is a rumor spread by those who obsess about the past or the future, who want to alter an outcome in either way. They search

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Throne of Judgement

You might think it strange, me sitting here, waiting for the sun to set, to watch the stars pop out one by one after I’ve just done what I’ve done. From up here, I see the house burn, flames like long tongues licking the sky.   If

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Wishmaker

I sucked out the last of the slush from the bottom of my Freezie as I faced the genie. I couldn’t find his lamp, so I rubbed the gritty block wall just over his eyes—rubbing until my hands turned raw. I didn’t trust him, not

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Stray Animal

me: Did you feed him?   him: I didn’t. You told me never to do that, so I didn’t.   me: How did he get here?   him: I don’t know. Maybe he followed me home last night.   me: He’s old and rusty and his hind end sags. He needs a doctor.

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, dragons, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

The Lazarus Syndrome

“You’ve had a most unusual experience, would you tell us about it?” asks the talk show host.   “I heard about the Pearly Gates all my life. I had certain expectations, perhaps like most of you,” I look out at the studio audience, not for dramatic effect

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, alien abduction, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Live Show

The Fates, sisters, weavers, sat in the stiff theatre chairs they had complained about for decades. They were the sort who took comfort in stiff and creaking joints. The morning show was a doubleheader.   Two lovers who found each other late in life. The one

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, alien abduction, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Snapshots

It was hard for her to remember what it had looked like before the quake. Before the earth shook them around like a snow globe, and drywall crumbled, and waters rose and swelled over banks to flood streets, pushing cars and walls and people along

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, alien abduction, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Fire Keeper

Across the dry tundra, full of night and blackened suns, the wind stirs the dirt into two swirling devils, thirty feet between them.   The girl tightens her grip on her fire staff. “There you are, dragon,” she whispers.   Stars disappear behind a monstrous shape.

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Home

Home. Where I shed my coat, my day, my tears. Where we said things we wanted to take back and sat in silence when there was too much to say.   Where small feet pattered to the same six hiding places over and over again until none

Hanging laundry outside a Portugal apartment.

Down the Cobblestone Road

People often asked where I get the inspiration for my stories. For those of you who know me personally, you might know that my inspiration comes from the photographs I take. Party of my creative process is making time to explore with my camera, looking

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about survival, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Survive

You hear voices. Whispered, slithering words that climb over each other as they crawl across dirt and dead grass to get to you.   You can’t remember the last time you heard a human voice, but you know these aren’t human. These are the sounds of the

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know, old doors and life and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Chained

The chains rattled and clanged as they wrapped his arms and locked him down. They had left him there wearing the same peeled paint and weathered wood suit he always wore.   He hung his lattice in shame.   He never did know his crime, even to this day.

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know, ghosts and fools and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

The Fool

I told the fool not to look at me straight on. Keep to the mirrors, to puddles, chrome bumpers or windows––I don’t want to see the red-veined whites of your eyes, I told the fool. But like all fools, he wasn’t the listening kind. It was the

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about sky, water, life and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Sky, land and water

Once, there was sky and land and water and nothing more. It was good. But sometimes good can be better. A seed was thrown to the wind. It was carried through sky, across land and fell to the water. It was pushed ashore by waves,

small winter town

Ms. Eve

I don’t know about you, but for me, January seems like it should be part of the year before. It feels like a buffer month, one where you pull the blankets up, make a cocoon and stare into the fire, daydreaming about all the things

Postcard-sized flash fiction about love, a trusty car and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Forever, Until it Isn’t

The day smelled of cut flowers and suntan lotion. The finned ’85 Chevy cut a fine line down the gravel road. Cans of Bud Light bounced off the ground and took flight once we got to the main road.

scary house, halloween, October newsletter, creepy

A few thoughts on October

This will be our tenth fall in Phoenix, at least I think it is. Funny how you lose track after a while, especially when the seasons don't show up. Fall and winter in particular. So I came up with a theory that may or may not

Graffiti of Time

Coffee Talk With Time

I've been thinking a lot about age lately. Could be that the infamous five-oh has been staring me in the face since February. That's when Time showed up. My birthday wasn't until August but she would flare her red skirt in the shadows of my home,

abandoned tv

The Last Episode

You dragged me around the corner and pointed––that’s it, that’s where I saw Twilight Zone, that creature crouching at the edge of the airplane wing just staring. You know the episode. It was real. It was there, looking at me through the glass.   Babe, I say,

payphone, baja, street, urban, collect call, city street

collect call

The voices whispered in my head, hammering away with quiet, deadly words. They were the only ones in there now. They’d tied up Hope, shoved memory of better times and better dreams in her mouth, gagging her. Forcing her silent. They injected me with nightmares

angel wings

Angel of Death

Closing time. The last eight ball slammed into the right, corner pocket. Beers were drained, and money slapped down on the sweaty table––we were ravenous, cast out into the streets past midnight and looking for greasy hash browns, chicken and waffles.   You slid out of the

Surfer dude

P. is almost 60 years old (but looks 74 in good light), an early retired analyst and a wannabe hipster. It doesn’t suit him, I’ve told him as much, but he just scowls and keeps waxing his surfboard.   This morning, little flakes of white wax float

Politicians and Zombies

It’s not just about having cases of water or tins of beans; it’s a mindset, a mindset that could save your bacon, said the man who could have been a preacher in a previous life. The blue vein in his temple pulsed as he talked,

living room chair

For Sale

Your mom’s selling her house, your house. She called me up, needed some help with the toilet in her bathroom. Always hated fixing other people’s plumbing (kinda goes without saying) but I didn’t say no to her, I never could. She was the gateway to

condo

Check Mate

It’s morning. There’s a sense of waiting for someone, like I’d forgotten a friend was coming over. The squares of light on the living room floor got me thinking of how we’d play checkers. How we’d take plates or plants or books and set them

Level 5

Level 5

I was parked on the 3rd level but I kept climbing, breathing my way to the 5th. The door was a grimier version of what I remember. You’re parking spot is taken by a Range Rover. Black. Spotless.   Somehow, I think you’d hate that it wasn’t

cafe

Sockless and Happy

I’m writing your name on a bar napkin, the edges sopping from beer glass sweat. I missed work three days in a row––keep calling in sick but I’m not sure what’s wrong. Maybe gravity just stopped holding me down.   This morning I passed the coffee shop,

house with crypt

House For Sale: Crypt Included

The temperature dips as the black-haired realtor leads us down the stairs.   “Be careful,” she says, hanging on the rail. “The wood steps are a little slippery. And don’t mind the smell.” She tosses a look over her shoulder, her next words sharp with glee, “I

scary house for halloween

A Few thoughts on halloween

Fall is here! It's hard to tell when you live in Arizona, well, the Valley anyways. There are no trees changing color and we're still waiting for the temps to get out of the high nineties. After ten years of living here it still seems strange that

metal shed

One Way to Nowhere

Mrs. Marcy, the neighbor from upstairs, said she saw you the other night, shivering behind the Greyhound Bus Station. I went to look for myself. There was an old man warming his hands over a burning garbage can. I asked if he’d seen a brown

Postcard

Treasure Hunt

I think I came here once before. There was two or maybe five of us following lipstick clues written on recipe cards. I’d found one duck taped to the bottom of the bench, the lipstick smeared and ripped off along with the tape.   We laughed, tossed

House on wheels

Just think, you can pull it behind. Oh, you don't have a vehicle. You have a bike. A motor bike? Oh. BMX. OK. Well, it does have a sturdy shell and the blinds mostly work. There's even room for entertaining. You don't entertain? Well then

lone shopping cart

Survival

They left it there. As if it hadn't held all they owned––the scrounged up, the stolen and the bartered. There was a time when it was full, heaped with what they thought of as survival gear. The first day out, on the road outside the

Loading new posts...
No more posts