Category Archives: Writing

Dirty dishes filled the sink to overflowing. The moist remains of milk and cereal clung to bowls and spoons on the counter top. Dried tomato sauce, a few brittle loops of spaghetti, the remnants of chicken drumsticks, and flaccid pieces of spongy broccoli stuck … Continue reading →

[This is pure fiction; nothing about it is real.] Let me first say I do not know where I am. In a physical sense, I am not “here” nor “there,” but neither am I a “spirit” of some sort. In … Continue reading →

This morning begins one of those unusual days, those days that seem fresh and new like the first days of the long-sought-after job in my youth. My good fortune, this morning, is almost impossible to believe. How wonderful—and what an utterly … Continue reading →

Sheila gasped, gulping air as if it were in short supply, her chest heaving with every involuntary intake of breath. Perspiration beads on her forehead, too heavy to cling to her clammy skin, trickled into her eyes and down her … Continue reading →

Griffin the donkey was a sad little guy, the saddest donkey I’ve seen. And I’ve seen some sad donkeys. But Griffin’s sadness exceeded the normal sadness one expects in donkeys. He was forlorn, dreary, bereft—downright unhappy. Let me tell you … Continue reading →

I don’t know what put the fantasy in my head. I suppose its origin doesn’t matter. What matters is the idea attached itself to my brain like a leech, greedily consuming my attention. I have no choice but to devote myself … Continue reading →

He was, in a way, translucent. You could see through him as if he were a veil, a shadow of fabric through which a bright light revealed every curve, every ugly imperfection, every hideous flaw. I think he knew his personality … Continue reading →

When Marlin Glenn lifted the lid, the intense odor of smoked meat escaped from the empty red ice chest. “You didn’t air this out, Nancy,” he barked. “Everything we put in it’s gonna reek.” Nancy’s mouth opened, then closed. She tightly balled her right fist, then slowly unclenched … Continue reading →

For a moment, I didn’t know what caused the noise, but when I looked up, I saw the crack in the clear blue sky above me.  The sound was far louder and sharper than a peal of thunder. There was no roar, no prelude, … Continue reading →

The most difficult experiences take place at the intersection of acknowledging one’s most egregious imperfections and accepting one’s inadequacies to overcome them. Those are the points at which one asks whether arguments in favor of continuing to live have any merit. Those are the events that lure doubt out from its hidden places … Continue reading →

The morning before Daddy-o Compton died was simply spectacular; there’s no other word for it. Brilliant sunlight reflected off of everything it touched. Even the weathered grey siding of the abandoned First Baptist Church, carrying a hundred years of dirt and grit and … Continue reading →