All tagged fiction

Racing Stripes

The rookie dragged the heavy hose into the choir loft, remembering an instructor’s analogy of wrestling an alligator. Behind him he could hear Carl humping the hose up the stairs, allowing him to advance the nozzle onward.

Loose Change

There was a poster of the silver Canadian cutting through the Rockies. The mountains had been spectacular, but when Carol thinks back on their trip, what she remembers most is the contrast between the open, clear sky of the prairies and those fields after fields of yellow canola.

Dantor's Tongue

Clustered amongst the crowd I could feel the heat of anticipation rise out the holes in our clothes. The rags we wore were shades of dirt smeared in judgement, shredded, and left unmended. Huddled together, our haze of heated frustration held back the cold hand of hopelessness.

Blessed Are The Meek

I want the injustice of their sorry lives etched into my soul. I need to picture their pain as a fetid, pus-filled boil just begging to be lanced, so that when the moment comes to choose, and life seems to offer so much, I’ll remember that I already chose to side with those who never had, and never will have, choices.

Water Maiden

Sometimes it’s a punch. Sometimes a kick. On the good days they just breathe nasty words next to my ear. It depends on their mood really. On the very good days, there is nothing at all and I can stay in bed for a bit longer. But those days don’t really happen that much anymore.

Despite the Dark

As soon as the first flicker of red and blue bounced off the alley brick walls I turned and raced for the fence. Feet shuffled and scattered behind me like birds, breaking loose in forty-five directions, jumping over bricks and barbed wire onto the wet pavement.


He stuttered for a moment, and decided to jump right back into it. “Right. Well we talk about that depression, and we talk about that anxiety, but what we don’t talk about, what I feel like we can’t talk about is your rage. You have an insane,” the word perked her ears up.

131 Hours of Silence

I look at the circles under my eyes, they have been growing darker every night this week. It has been exactly 131 hours since she took her things out of her two drawers in our shared dresser. They’re still empty.


I lied when you called last night. I wasn’t standing outside a bookstore waiting for a friend. I was sitting on the toilet, locked in the bathroom with an uncorked bottle of wine at my feet.

Labor Of Love

The last rays of sun are setting like a red blush into the clouds and warm June air caresses softly against our skin inviting us to laugh more deeply than when we first sat at this table of cornucopia.

Canned Beets

We rushed to your side and consoled you the first few times. We wiped your tears away and told you everything was going to be O.K. But then we realized that this was your new habit.

The Oak Leaf

He supported himself against the counter, crossing his legs tightly at the knee and caressing the receiver upon his cheek in one eager motion. He could feel his own warmth being reflected against the white phone, could feel each shallow and trembling breath exhaling.