Category: 2013


Oh, there was that family that visited from California. All that way. They brought their Breyer toy horses to the beach, those girls and their cousin. She tried to join in with her own horses but they were inferior, brandless. Later they teased her because she had grown breasts over the year since they’d seen her last, her bathing suit now too small, riding … Read More supervision

how did the pretzel cross the road?

We followed a narrow drive lined by trees down to the house and the barn. The house was brick, covered over in plaster. The man with the fiddle and the man with the guitar stood in the entryway and played music. Can we get there? Can we get there? Yes. The cat rubbed up against the palms of our hands. We sat by the … Read More how did the pretzel cross the road?


The sun came out and everything looked brand new. The azaleas were blooming bright red and pink, salmon and purple. Their shades always just a little bit off. The heat settled in, moss on a rock. People weren’t used to it anymore. They wore sweaters to work in the morning and by noon were rolling up their sleeves and wiggling their toes in heavy … Read More rapture


There is a child on a bike and a man on a chair. And there is nothing. Children are taken from their rooms in the night. Babies snatched from behind unlocked doors. For a while there is a frenzy of wonder about where they might be and what happened to them. Then quiet. There was a girl who was a lifeguard at a pond. She … Read More rebar


He knew how to meditate. He could lose himself to his mind. The years of learning by prayer served him well in the bar. I could no more ask him why he had become a priest than he could tell me he had become a priest because. I couldn’t ask him anything. I made him a character. I wrote that he had been forced … Read More father

The Winner of my short story month giveaway is…

This morning, I wrote down the names of all of the responders to the short story month giveaway, rolled them up, and had my son select a winner. And that winner is Laura E.! Laura will receive a signed copy of I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND. Congratulations, Laura, and thank you to all who joined in.


The tree beside the window was blooming but scentless. I sat on the star-covered spread. Smoked clandestinely. I lit candles, though they were verboten. The fireplace was flanked by tile. Lustrous. It would have been a sitting room when the house was new. I could do nothing there and he lived on the other side of the door, breathing, offering me quarters. Here is … Read More girlfriend


All day, I wait for the betrayal. A person is not who he says he is. A man waits, unmoving, on the bench next to me. I see his knees and his feet. We must wait. Here together, we must wait. I learn that he plays the ukulele. Someone asks him about his music and he responds. More questions. His parrot has died. I … Read More party


The wind knocked petals from the trees and it looked like snow. It was cold enough for snow. But it was petals. Gently. Let’s not talk about the weather. Not talk about it anymore. The blue is up above the clouds. On a plane, you would see it up there—blue and the sun in the distance. The sun might even shine through your window. We … Read More Incubator


The next town on the map was Ashtabula. She kept thinking of Bob Dylan and expected wildflowers by the side of the road. Instead there were train tracks and abandoned buildings. The restaurant they ate in served them iceberg lettuce. They were tracing the map. Michigan. Minnesota. South Dakota. Across. Across the mountains. And then there it was. The desert. It was like you … Read More Ashtabula

in her bedroom

The bed she once shared with her sister was pushed against the wall. We were told we were lucky to see her sister’s pearl gray wedding gown laid out on the bed cover. She would never marry, would never want to. There were two desks in the room. One desk was formal and heavy, A piece of furniture. The other was a small semi-circle … Read More in her bedroom


The light over the marsh was hesitant, resisting the day. Cereal bloated and pushed against the sides of the bowl. Later, rain would fall, pulsing onto rolled hay. We would feel there was something wrong. A deja vu of movement, pressed into the eye. We would take our dishes out of the cupboard and put them right into the dishwasher to save time. We wouldn’t know … Read More break

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