To this day Ren, or Rippin’ Renny as he is now known, is a world-renown legend. [Read More]
She’s a woman out of her skin now, a changeling. And the skin she wants to shed is the grief, the lies, the torments of years playing second fiddle to every goddamn man who towered over her and thought themselves smarter because their hair was shorter and biceps bigger. [Read More]
Pig, our family goldfish, died recently at the age of three years. He was purchased with low expectations, having cost only 25 cents. Nevertheless, he was an ambitious soul for a feeder fish. [Read More]
In those days, Grandpa’s bakery was my safe haven. Every morning I would wake up early, and slip down stairs to fall into the kitchens, full of flour dust and the smell of rising bread. [Read More]
As a grade school kid I served as a safety patrol crossing guard. On a corner near my school stood an old, abandoned house. There was a crossing post on this corner that none of us wanted. Many of the kids claimed the house was haunted. The drapes would move in the upstairs window is […]
She stood on the lower deck of the ferry. The wind beat her face and the salt stung her eyes. But she didn’t care: ahead was Seattle. Downtown’s glittering spires rose from brackish water like the tip of a submerged fantasy kingdom. Gulls screeched escort overhead, defying currents, until knifing down and whipping back out of view.
“Daisy, come quick. He’s back.” The small, shaggy-bearded man danced a few steps in excitement.
A woman moved her girth sideways, through the screen door, letting it slap shut. Frizzy dark-rooted blond hair framed her splotchy sagging face. She snatched the binoculars and trained them on a distant stand of trees growing across Cape Falcon. [Read More]
I live in a land where people come to die.Some intentionally. Some not.Take Phillip Barnes, for example. He drove his ‘95 Jeep Wrangler Sahara away from the city on August 29th. He was bipolar. Had a gun. Left his wallet home. Traffic cams showed him heading our way.No one’s seen him since.Which isn’t surprising given […]
Soaking in black raspberry vanilla scented water, classical poetry in song repairs Millie’s parched spirit. Her what the hell is it all about thoughts swirl clockwise — she pokes her big toe in the stopper’s loop pulling upward letting small amounts of water escape. The bathtub’s plumbing makes a ravenous sucking sound.
“After leaving an air show just before a crash, and reading an article about our government’s increasing reliance on drones, I imagined this column written by a witness to a flying robot crash in a future air show.” — R.W. Bonn