Fiction

I arrive late at my writers group, stepping into the quiet swish of pens on paper, of fingers tapping on keyboards. I love that look of concentration…

Two days before the bicentennial and Madeline Harper’s tenth birthday, someone rowed an eighteen-foot Statue of Liberty constructed entirely of Venetian blinds…

“You need to choose which memories you want to delete,” the doctor said as she clasped her hands behind her head and tried to appear calm and confident…

A chick on a board. Rise, drop, hot wheels singin’, the wind in her hair. Ready for Scarecrow man – break on your board, slide under his skinny arm.

Jane raced around her apartment leaving chaos in her wake. She was like a whirling dervish of manic energy. She always worked herself into a state…

I have already decided: Today is the day I will kill my mother’s boyfriend. Mama’s loaded shotgun has been leaning against her old dresser…

The Narrator’s cane taps an uneven rhythm against ancient stone tiles as he hobbles through the library. There is almost no light to see by, but this does not slow his pace.

Clouds under stars, and the stars move superior to the clouds. I open my eyes to the sound of horses, peer up from a slit in my blankets.

Three of Jake’s buddies flew directly from Afghanistan into intensive rehab for amputees. Jake got dropped off back home with a medal…