Die, My Darling

Francis tells me his fiancé is moving in soon and I will have to move out. When that time comes, so does the For Rent sign in the yard a few doors down. A basement apartment in an old house built decades ago. I sign the contract with the owner and walk my belongings across the…

The Words She Brought Home

Days of the week… Days of the week… These are the days of the week. She brought the words home from kindergarten. A song they had sung. Her face was pale. The bags under her eyes deep and dark. We thought it was the storm that had been hovering over us all week. The thunder…

On the Veranda

A heavy fist rattled the door and a deep, husky voice said comin’ in. Thus entered the doctor, his long white coat parted by his belly, which preceded him into the room. Squeezing his fat forehead was a black band holding one of those silver metal thingies. He glanced at me, and then his eyes…

Riding Bikes With Ghosts

Right after dinner after getting the girls in bed I get to the garage and grab my bike and I’m ready to go. Rode it yesterday after not riding it for years and stuffed it in the van and drove it to the QT to inflate the tires for free and rode that bitch. It’s…

One Evening Aboard the Wrong Plane

For much of the flight, the gentleman in 13A noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He smiled at the stewardess. He enjoyed beverages. He made use of a pillow. The normal hum of the cabin helped him along quite nicely. In fact, he’d always found the normal hum of the cabin to be rather comforting.…

The story is finished several times

Last week I posted an unfinished story. I had sat down to write one story, but in the process of writing it the story took on a life of its own and became another one. I offered it up for others to finish and was pleased to find several interesting takes on what had become…

This story needs you to finish it.

It was decades ago. A Friday night. He shut the door of his bedroom and turned off the light. It was only 7:00 pm but it was dark and he wanted no part of anything. He shut the door against the man he called dad coming home in his suit after a bad day to…

Less Than Plain

“What are you writing?” The young man clapped the notebook closed, looked up to find her smiling down at him, felt his stomach do somersaults. “Nothing, really.” “It must be a bit more than that,” she said, twisting the cap off a bottle of water. “Or you would not be blushing.” The young man’s face…