Category Archives: short stories

iq test

roadside attraction

My stepmother’s eyes bulging with anger, my father’s lips pressed into a flat line: this was what I held the laminated menu in front of my face for. So I couldn’t see them. See or be seen. Behind creamed corn

iq test

roadside attraction

My stepmother’s eyes bulging with anger, my father’s lips pressed into a flat line: this was what I held the laminated menu in front of my face for. So I couldn’t see them. See or be seen. Behind creamed corn

fence

troy

I’m lurking in the shadow on the north side of the Mill Valley Middle School, as far away as possible from the playing field and paved quad where most kids hang out. I’m sitting on a weedy planter made of

fence

troy

I’m lurking in the shadow on the north side of the Mill Valley Middle School, as far away as possible from the playing field and paved quad where most kids hang out. I’m sitting on a weedy planter made of

(image courtesy James Allenspach)

a story that needs a title

Here is the latest story I have been working on, as promised. It still doesn’t have a title. (Can you help me find one? And why are titles so hard? For me, titles are always the last and most difficult

(image courtesy James Allenspach)

a story that needs a title

Here is the latest story I have been working on, as promised. It still doesn’t have a title. (Can you help me find one? And why are titles so hard? For me, titles are always the last and most difficult

(photo courtesy J-Watta)

tender

for S.C. For Lizzy, there were three first kisses: one stolen, one lost, and one that counted, but she only kept one of them. The first was during the summer before sixth grade. She was sitting under the skylight in

(photo courtesy J-Watta)

tender

for S.C. For Lizzy, there were three first kisses: one stolen, one lost, and one that counted, but she only kept one of them. The first was during the summer before sixth grade. She was sitting under the skylight in

highway

Father’s Day

I’m reposting this story, a token of love and appreciation for J on Fathers’ Day, and for all you breadwinners who get the job done.  * At first he didn’t mind the commute, even looked forward to having a little

highway

Father’s Day

I’m reposting this story, a token of love and appreciation for J on Fathers’ Day, and for all you breadwinners who get the job done.  * At first he didn’t mind the commute, even looked forward to having a little

(photo courtesy Gonzalo Espinoza)

ablutions

It’s early morning. A shapeless form lumbers along the sidewalk, dragging a loaded cart on tiny wheels. I sit sipping tea at the front window of a café on Shattuck Avenue, pretending to be busy my pile of papers and

(photo courtesy Gonzalo Espinoza)

ablutions

It’s early morning. A shapeless form lumbers along the sidewalk, dragging a loaded cart on tiny wheels. I sit sipping tea at the front window of a café on Shattuck Avenue, pretending to be busy my pile of papers and

(image courtesy Michael W. May)

45 Degrees

(image courtesy Michael W. May) (for PKD, of course) Those  who have been following know that I have been on a major Philip K. Dick kick  lately.  This short story is the grand finale of my obsession, at least for

(image courtesy Michael W. May)

45 Degrees

(image courtesy Michael W. May) (for PKD, of course) Those  who have been following know that I have been on a major Philip K. Dick kick  lately.  This short story is the grand finale of my obsession, at least for

(image courtesy Laura Smith)

Dirty Parts (Revised)

Her father doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.  He’s more of a perma-press kind of guy with plastic in his collar and a sharp crease down his leg.  The palms of his hands are soft and smooth as the

(image courtesy Laura Smith)

Dirty Parts (Revised)

Her father doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.  He’s more of a perma-press kind of guy with plastic in his collar and a sharp crease down his leg.  The palms of his hands are soft and smooth as the

freedom house

There’s nothing like a haunted house.  Have you ever seen a real ghost? It wasn’t so scary after you’d lived there for awhile.  It was a mammoth Victorian, dingy white, with exes of tape on the windows, three stories plus

freedom house

There’s nothing like a haunted house.  Have you ever seen a real ghost? It wasn’t so scary after you’d lived there for awhile.  It was a mammoth Victorian, dingy white, with exes of tape on the windows, three stories plus

(image courtesy Tina Negus)

Down River

(For Susan) “How long’ll you be staying?” The campsite host pressed his palms on either side of her mother’s window.  His eyes moseyed around the interior of the car, from the sleeping bags and boxes of food to Aster in

(image courtesy Tina Negus)

Down River

(For Susan) “How long’ll you be staying?” The campsite host pressed his palms on either side of her mother’s window.  His eyes moseyed around the interior of the car, from the sleeping bags and boxes of food to Aster in

(image courtesy Paulina Grabiac)

vow of silence

The machine could answer as well as she.  Always chipper and polite, it always had time, and callers didn’t care one way or the other; in fact, they were quite expansive and put on a little show with chuckles and

(image courtesy Paulina Grabiac)

vow of silence

The machine could answer as well as she.  Always chipper and polite, it always had time, and callers didn’t care one way or the other; in fact, they were quite expansive and put on a little show with chuckles and

cindy sherman l'uomo

In the First Person

I never lied to anyone.  Not about anything important, that is.  What some might call deceit I like to think of as artistic embellishment, an essential component of my quest toward self-realization.   Everyone should get a turn in the sun. 

cindy sherman l'uomo

In the First Person

I never lied to anyone.  Not about anything important, that is.  What some might call deceit I like to think of as artistic embellishment, an essential component of my quest toward self-realization.   Everyone should get a turn in the sun. 

(image courtesy Valentin Strambu)

Fathers’ Day

This story is a token of love and appreciation for J on Fathers’ Day, and for all breadwinners who get the job done.  * At first he didn’t mind the commute, even looked forward to having a little cushion between

(image courtesy Valentin Strambu)

Fathers’ Day

This story is a token of love and appreciation for J on Fathers’ Day, and for all breadwinners who get the job done.  * At first he didn’t mind the commute, even looked forward to having a little cushion between

(image courtesy twynkl moon)

Mothers Group (or Euphenasia)

Setting:  Every Wednesday at ten o’clock they meet at Tot Land, a busy kiddy park packed with tricycles, play tables, and a huge mess of discarded plastic toys. Characters: Prudy (a red-headed Brit who hasn’t slept for more than four

(image courtesy twynkl moon)

Mothers Group (or Euphenasia)

Setting:  Every Wednesday at ten o’clock they meet at Tot Land, a busy kiddy park packed with tricycles, play tables, and a huge mess of discarded plastic toys. Characters: Prudy (a red-headed Brit who hasn’t slept for more than four

fight club

poor me: a brief dip in the pool of self pity

I’ve never entered a writing contest before, mostly because usually they charge a fee (which makes the whole thing seem like a racket) but also because I am a really, really lousy loser.  My husband won’t play pool with me

fight club

poor me: a brief dip in the pool of self pity

I’ve never entered a writing contest before, mostly because usually they charge a fee (which makes the whole thing seem like a racket) but also because I am a really, really lousy loser.  My husband won’t play pool with me

dirty parts (first draft)

He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.  He’s more of a perma-press kind of guy with plastic in his collar and a sharp crease down his leg.  The palms of his hands are soft and smooth, made for flipping

dirty parts (first draft)

He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.  He’s more of a perma-press kind of guy with plastic in his collar and a sharp crease down his leg.  The palms of his hands are soft and smooth, made for flipping