Pacific City By the time Peggy got to Dinah’s, the men’s choir from the nearby college had finished their rehearsal and filled the place up. She slipped past tables of young dudes in polo shirts and various stages of figuring out their sexuality poring over the song list to get to the bar. On stage,Continue reading “Superstition: Pacific City”
Tag Archives: creative writing
A Room in a Mountain
He sat on the side of the bed, looking out the window. His hands were next him, resting gently on the crisp white sheets. Occasionally he would forget, and a muscle would twitch or he’d move his neck quickly to catch a strange sound, and the pain would start all over again. Like pins andContinue reading “A Room in a Mountain”
Liminal Spaces
“They’re called liminal spaces,” she said. “Places that only exist to pass through.” “You mean a hallway.” Out of the corner of Brandon’s eye he could see her shift in the kitchen chair. How someone that tall could always get her legs tucked under her, wherever she sat, Brandon would never understand. Eunice – suchContinue reading “Liminal Spaces”
Seaview Historical Society
When Ramona had been picking her wedding dresses, her mother, a loving but practical woman, had tried to steer her to something sleek and modern. But Ramona had dreamed of her fairy tale wedding her entire life. She hadn’t wanted a wedding dress, she had wanted a wedding gown.
A Pleasant Day Spent Searching
Gerald cut through the forest like the yellow tang in the fish tank in his dentist’s waiting room. Quick. Silent. Every step carefully calculated. Slipping around bushes and under tree branches. Avoiding fallen twigs, rocks, even leaves. What if he supposed a leaf to be soft and then he stepped on it and it madeContinue reading “A Pleasant Day Spent Searching”
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The After-Party: A Body of Thieves
The quiet, and the dark. It was what he needed. He felt his way up the stairs of the abandoned factory, back into the room where he had met everyone only hours ago. Leaving the light off, he made his way to the table using only the lights coming in through the dirty window. He sank into his chair, his head still swimming and his feet like lead. The watch on his wrist said it was ten thirty, and he stared at it trying to figure out how a wrist watch was lying to him.
Didi
October It was a heatherheart funeral, except instead of a bar they were at Ralph and Didi’s house. Just Didi’s house now. Not our house, she thought. My house. She was standing in the kitchen, staring at all the food. Tradition said it should have been casseroles and cobblers, but heatherhearts can’t cook worth aContinue reading “Didi”
Cemetery
Let’s cut through the cemetery, Paul said. It’ll be fine, he said. Well, apparently the Applewood Cemetery was way bigger than either of them thought. If they had just walked around they would have gotten to the party by now. Instead it was full dark and they were still somewhere in the middle of aContinue reading “Cemetery”
Supply Lines
With equal amounts of relief and leg cramps, Roll and Jack waded across the ill-named Lazy River. The icy water rushed by up to their knees, trying to knock them over and carry them away. A couple of times Jack almost let it. It might have been easier to just let the river drag him away from the raiders; he’d just have to push himself toward the eastern shore. The pack on his back kept him upright. It was heavy. It was unwieldy. It was his duty.
The Adventures of…Dick Dangerly! The Dame Blocking the Farmplace
I have finally made it to the San Francisco Chronicle. There’s a lot of newspaper offices in this city – which I’ve apparently lived in my entire life – and I had to crack the case of which one was the right one.
High Urban Fantasy Jazz 