Category Archives: short stories
The Orange Cat
“A strange cat was in our kitchen when we got home from the store,” Kate says. She puts three glasses of water on the table and goes to help Josie, who keeps squirming off her chair. “I was worried we’d
The Orange Cat
“A strange cat was in our kitchen when we got home from the store,” Kate says. She puts three glasses of water on the table and goes to help Josie, who keeps squirming off her chair. “I was worried we’d
Disturbance
The bass thumps so loud and hard that the half-open bathroom window rattles in time. It opens to a backyard packed with people writhing and bouncing on a makeshift dance floor under festoons of lights and a painted black sky.
Disturbance
The bass thumps so loud and hard that the half-open bathroom window rattles in time. It opens to a backyard packed with people writhing and bouncing on a makeshift dance floor under festoons of lights and a painted black sky.
Personals
When Jo was hired to run the personals section of the local weekly newspaper, she bragged to friends that it was almost better than sex. Every day she’d stop at the café at the corner of Throckmorton and Blithedale for
Personals
When Jo was hired to run the personals section of the local weekly newspaper, she bragged to friends that it was almost better than sex. Every day she’d stop at the café at the corner of Throckmorton and Blithedale for
We Have to Remember Every Detail
The pool is an empty blue eye staring at the sky. By the time the police arrive, the long fingers of the trees’ shadows touch the edges of the water. The swimmers have withdrawn to the locker rooms to rinse
We Have to Remember Every Detail
The pool is an empty blue eye staring at the sky. By the time the police arrive, the long fingers of the trees’ shadows touch the edges of the water. The swimmers have withdrawn to the locker rooms to rinse
LA ==> SF
Charlotte takes one hand off the steering wheel to slide her sunglasses down her nose. “Light a cigarette, would you?” “Did you bring any?” asks Leigh. “Of course not. You know I don’t smoke.” Leigh lights the cigarette and hands
LA ==> SF
Charlotte takes one hand off the steering wheel to slide her sunglasses down her nose. “Light a cigarette, would you?” “Did you bring any?” asks Leigh. “Of course not. You know I don’t smoke.” Leigh lights the cigarette and hands
neighborhood
I was at the sink rinsing my coffee cup when he left at 7:30, as usual. And as soon as the garage door closed, I saw their curtains disappear. Well, that caught my eye. She was ripping them down like
neighborhood
I was at the sink rinsing my coffee cup when he left at 7:30, as usual. And as soon as the garage door closed, I saw their curtains disappear. Well, that caught my eye. She was ripping them down like
the hierarchy of desire
At table 8, she introduces herself (I am your hole-filler, your anonymous food-bringer, faceless feeder), takes their order, and scoots back to the kitchen where her boss, Mulholland, is waiting by the door. His lips are pursed, but he’s not asking for a kiss. “Full hands in, full hands out,” he reminds her, and his eyes inspect her so thoroughly it feels surgical.
the hierarchy of desire
At table 8, she introduces herself (I am your hole-filler, your anonymous food-bringer, faceless feeder), takes their order, and scoots back to the kitchen where her boss, Mulholland, is waiting by the door. His lips are pursed, but he’s not asking for a kiss. “Full hands in, full hands out,” he reminds her, and his eyes inspect her so thoroughly it feels surgical.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Dirty Parts (Revised)
Her father doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. He’s a perma-press kind of guy with plastic in his collar and a sharp crease down each leg. The palms of his hands are as soft as the leather-covered steering wheel in
Dirty Parts (Revised)
Her father doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. He’s a perma-press kind of guy with plastic in his collar and a sharp crease down each leg. The palms of his hands are as soft as the leather-covered steering wheel in
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
girl in the hat 