Listening In The Rain I'm a good listener; always have been. Especially here inside the cemetery—just sitting in my truck, listening to the rain, hearing it tell the story, and waiting for Holly. We don’t have nice winter weather around here, just cold and rainy. The only thing it’s good for is hunting, especially for deer. But I don't hunt—not anymore. Winter became my favorite season after meeting Holly. I’d been drivin...

she took herself away too soon at sixteen could’ve given a single try to what she was but it wasn’t her call a tattoo of a finger around her face i must’ve looked for her five times, maybe more she said she wanted everyone to see her middle finger she didn’t care she cared so little that she didn’t care to stay alive ended always with a trumpet in the skies the hats I wore when I was sixteen the backpacks like rabbit ears...

nothing what am i that just that i feel it real deep under the skin above my scratched fingernails that smell like your smell your baggy clothes oh they hide you and your shapes like a secret of a friend stabbing a friend in the back you don’t wanna say it you’d rather staple your tongue right beneath the bottom edge of your speaking terms listen your knees crack again like the bones of the dead like mine maybe I am dead...

He had a weakness. One which he guessed may be quite embarrassing should his workmates discover it. However, he was not ashamed of it, because he saw no reason to be. It was perhaps quite a contraction in regards to who he was and to his profession that he should indulge himself in such fantasies, and fantasy, was exactly what it was. Bill Simmons was 36, worked on a building site, and lived a bachelor life in a bedsit. H...

The sun’s heat was particularly humid in the open plan office, as though the windows were large magnifying glasses, the workers under inspection, the heat rebounding from their computer monitors to bombard them as though they were in an oven. Benjamin Lowell looked up as a shadow fell over him. Trevor Ingram was standing there, holding out a bacon and egg sandwich and a Styrofoam cup of coffee. "You’re a workaholic, you k...

Synopsis Ever want to switch lives with someone else? Look to covet something someone else has on their side of the fence? More money. Better job. Bigger house. Love. Kurt Eakles does, and soon, will have the chance to do just that. But not every life is perfect and with every pro, there’s a con to follow. There’s no such thing as Fairytales. With limited times to switch between lives, he’ll have to choose between the sim...

It's been so lonely, you are thinking, and this happens. These simple words make you hope, it might be. You always recognize your own hope appearing. "Hello darlin'." That's what he said. He's flirting, you consider. It startles you a little. It's been awhile. At least, since it wasn't someone that was overbearing, rude. Yes, you wonder, is this one going to be rude and mean. You don't think you can take that again. The t...

It started out as usual. Murphy announced the specials for the night.  "We got your appetizers. Two of 'em, as usual. Frijoles Charros which is just heirloom beans with some applewood smoked bacon. Push that. Chef got too much bacon this week. It's gotta be used. He stared at Jesse, expecting her to mouth off. Not this time. "So, going on, we got the other one. Ostiones Empanizados. Okay, I'll translate. No need to raise...

I could not help remembering the old homeless man who explained that he possesses psychic abilities. I thought him nothing more than delusional when he told me he could see into the future, glimpsing visions of when and how others would die. I scoffed, for surely no one ever believed him. That exchange and his grim face were my last thoughts as I bled out on the street in front of the truck that hit me.  

I watched my copper mailbox dangle from the door of my bar through the blurs of my windshield wipers. The rubber gripped the glass, not a forgotten drop or streak. They were new. The car was new. The mailbox was rusted and tarnished.      It was Sunday, I’d just gotten out of one of those fancy Catholic Cathedrals I’d found in inner-city Moscow,  and as I trudged through the rain, I begged God that the mailbox be empty. I...

The countryside harnessed a strange calm breeze that swept the produce of nature in the settling burnt orange sunset. They had been driving for hours, craving water they no longer took for granted in this relentless heat. There was a growing sense of uneasiness in the city, and their presence alone had made the servants resentful. The thought of a social unrest panicked Ruth’s mother, who began to predict their future tro...

Lily couldn't remember a time when she felt so bored. She made her way into the kitchen to get something for breakfast, trying to figure out how she was going to pass the time when her Father spoke up. "Lil. We need groceries and some other supplies. Go and pick some up." He handed her a wad of money. She blinked at it in surprise. "No problem. I'll need the keys too." "You can walk." She blinked owlishly at him. "Dad, th...

After night had fallen and Lily was certain that her father was sleeping, she pulled out her cell-phone, and the card in her back pocket. She ran her fingers over the raised numbers and then dialed them. She was a little surprised there was any cell service out here. "Hello?" She recognized Klaus's voice. "Um, Klaus? This is Lily. We just met today if you remember?" There was a surprised pause on the other end, and she he...

Lily jerked awake, barely registering the chorus of the song playing on the radio, and the white noise sounds cars made while on the move. She was dreaming about running through the forest. Something was chasing her, and she was all alone. She shook it off and looked around to familiarize herself with the here and now. Next to her in the driver's seat was her Dad. His familiar bearded profile brought her no comfort. Then...

xxxIn the spring of ’68, it was the worst of times. Student protests raged from the Sorbonne to Berkeley. Civil rights demonstrations and anti-war rallies were turning violent. Martin Luther King was dead; Bobby Kennedy would be soon. Hundreds of other Americans were dying each week in South Vietnam. Soldiers patrolled the streets of Saigon, Paris, and Washington. Soviet troops prepared to invade Prague. And in a nowhere...