He pulled his clothes on, wincing when he had to lift his arm to get his shirt on. The bruise was an ugly purple, turning green at the edges. The last bruise
She sat on the train and twiddled her thumbs and tried not to let the rhythm of the wheels on the rails make her fall asleep. When she came close, she would rub her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shift in her seat, button or unbutton her coat, depending on how it was. Once, she had gone up to the dining car and gotten a cup of tea. It still sat in the little cup holder, now nothing more than cold gray water.
“Well, I’ve never been, so that’s where we should go next. Don’t look at me like that. I’m the one trying to experience life here, so…oh, wait, hold on…excuse me…yes, excuse me…this is decaf.” Paulette froze, a forkful of eggs halfway between her plate and her face. Dinah was looking at the waiter pleasantly, anContinue reading “Act Like You Belong”
Clementine knew she shouldn’t have left the party just as soon as she did it, but through some combination of stubbornness and pride she kept on walking. This stupid party her boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – had dragged her to was all the way out in the boonies. She should have known it was a stupidContinue reading “The Not-Deer”
Just a little ways from the shore the waves were blue monstrosities, towering higher than she knew waves could go. They foamed and curled and crashed and then the water came rushing at the white sand, flowing over it, reaching her toes and tickling them just so before retreating back to Mother Ocean. In between the waves – so big they must be dreams! – she could see the horizon, a straight line stretching all the way from one direction to the other. Blue meets blue.
This is the tale of Cecilia Ramos, who never figured out she was mildly psychic. Strictly speaking, ‘psychic’ is a garbage term that umbrellas so many different types of mental abilities as to make it quite useless. A mind reader and a medium could both be called psychic, and if you asked, for example, theContinue reading “Just a Little Magic”
On the corner of Astoria and Sunday on the ridge above Broken Hearts were four Victorian homes. In happier times this was referred to in the town as the Biddies’ Corner, known for the four old women who had lived there and spent much of their lives together in one house or another, playing bunko and drinking gin. Not a one of them had survived, although the word had been Mrs. Rockby had tossed herself down the cellar stairs before the disease could get her.
Sometimes jobs fall right into your god damned lap. Paulie and Tosh were sitting at a booth in Rosa’s, a twenty-four hour diner directly off the highway in a town that had grown up only to serve it. The highway, not Rosa’s. In the same large parking lot as Rosa’s there was a Trucker’s HavenContinue reading “Dinner at Rosa’s”
In a small clearing of trees not far from the Route 85 Rest Stop #14, three men and a woman stood staring at each other. Rocky Lopes and Verity Fields stood on one side. Ozzie Gomez and Perseus Onri on the other. Between them was a hastily assembled shrine, a heavy leather book with theContinue reading “Invocation”
The Guardian There was no questioning if Milo was okay to run. It didn’t matter. If he wasn’t, he’d have to find a way anyway. That thing knew where they were. It was coming. They had to find the gate first. He took Laurent’s hand and pulled. Waited for some piece of his body toContinue reading “The Gate”