Trampled

May 14
2016

Josiah thought it was damn near impossible. He’d never thought this before; usually standing up from the booth and walking to the bathroom didn’t take much. But now, drunk as he was, drunker than he had ever been, he wasn’t sure his body would do what he wanted. Just standing up was tricky, so he tried to stare at the TV above the bar hoping it would look like he was watching the rodeo.

His tongue sought out the long whiskers on the side of his mouth. A gesture Dot used to say made him look “madder than an Old King Crow”. He never did find out what an Old King Crow was and now Dot was dead so what did it matter anyway?

The Father, The Son, And Me

Jan 17
2016

I stand on my parents’ back lawn, dead brown grass crunching under my feet, early morning light slithering through the trees and watch through the kitchen window as my father finally chokes my mother to death. Workman’s hands stained brown from years of carpentry clutch my mother’s neck like a child clutches a favorite toy. After all these years, he’s found his strength and it shows in the white half-moons that appear on Momma’s neck underneath the tips of his fingers.

Product Placement

May 02
2015

You push against foot traffic with the same fatalistic aggression you use to push against turning thirty. It’s hopeless, yet you try anyway. Commuters jostle for position like racehorses and for the same disheartening goal: to run in circles just to end up back here at the same time tomorrow, 24 hours older. You run your fingers through your too-thick frizzy hair, trying to tame it, to no avail.

“Jennifer! You should really do something about that hair!”

Without breaking your stride, you look over your shoulder for someone you know. But among the human throng by the green, graffiti-stained newsstand there is no one familiar, save the proprietor making rapid exchanges of magazines for money.