The Watcher


buttJoseph leaned against the hardware store’s outside wall, impatiently tapping his fingers.  Its surface was cool in the shade of what promised to be another scorcher. He drew on his cigarette, then used the same hand to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His fingers trembled and the ash dropped to the dirty sidewalk. Continue reading

All the News That’s Fit to Print

farmShe wrapped her hands around the hand-thrown mug, coffee scent misting the still-cold morning in an exhausted cloud. The metro newspaper lay splayed before her on the kitchen table, moaning headlines and sub-stories of international terror threats, environmental ruin, domestic violence, a floundering economy, and the collapse of another small local non-profit. Continue reading

A Cautionary Tale of Temptation & Redemption in Three Acts

mouse

Act 1  

(A moment of peace, the calm in the eye of the storm.)

Just a few short hours ago, there‘d been a clatter of metal against glass, the whine of motors rotating through a thick sludge, the wet thunk of an awkward body, a snip and rustle of evisceration, the rasp of metal on metal, and a clang of slamming doors.

“I think we’ve done all we can for now.” Karen wipes her brow and surveys the damage. “When are the troops supposed to arrive?”

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From Behind the Curtain

white-coral-bells

I see you through the light canopy that enshrouds the bed, your cheek a false pink from yesterday’s gathering of early spring blooms. Sun shines bright through the window panes, warming the edge of your pillow. Wrapped up in a light duvet, its cover pale blue and patterned with tiny flowers, soft contrast to our sturdy wooden bed, you roll away from the light. Shall I throw open the windows and let the Green Man in?

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A Tale of Two Schmitties (Part Two): Wild Schmitties & Arizon’

mars-at-night

There once was a settlement on Arizon’,  20 kliks from a ruined moonbase at the far edge of what the Space Cowboy Coalition called the 66th Quadrant. The planet to which Arizon’ had been attached is as long-gone and forgotten as its name. By all that’s natural and what we believe to be the laws of science, the tiny golden moon Arizon’ should have spun off and disappeared as well. But there she sits, spinning slowly, holding her place in the quadrant, wreathed in pearly-gray clouds.

A transformation is occurring…

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A Tale of Two Schmitties (Part One): Tale of the Wild Martian West

mars-at-night

Many, many years ago, when the red planet was untamed and sparsely populated–not like it is now, with its towering star scrapers and rumbling freewheelways—Schmitties roamed the plains, and the atmosphere was breathable.

A man could make a fine life for himself as a Schmittyboy. The pay wasn’t great, but the vistas couldn’t be beat.

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