1779, Central New York Colony It is barely false dawn, and the smoky fog settles thicker upon the still water. I paddle silently, confidently, using only my instincts and the lapping of the water on the shoreline to keep from running aground. I am at home on The Spirit’s Handprint. This is my world....
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There go the Stanhopes. Of course. We knew they wouldn’t last up here. Another year or two and, mark my word, it will be the Catenas heading out—two skinny parents, three fat kids, and one yippy dog I’d like to chase into the muddy river. They don’t really mix much with the locals, so...
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Near noon, Jonas noticed a trail of smoke over a short rise to his right and turned his mules onto the rutted path leading toward it. When he crested the hill, the stone chimney that was its source caught his eye. The craftsmanship spoke of a man skilled in building, as did the small...
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“Can anything be stupider than that a man has the right to kill me because he lives on the other side of a river and his ruler has a quarrel with mine, though I have not quarrelled with him?” ~Blaise Pascal “Either war is obsolete or men are.” ~ R. Buckminster Fuller (1895 –...
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In a crystal spring breeze at the beginning of the evening, Vince sat on the stone front steps of their bungalow on a tree-lined street in the South Shore neighborhood of Chicago. Scrolling through the news of the day on his new Mac, waiting for Doug to come home from work. Vince had always...
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“You look pretty, now.” She laughed, and said, “Oh, thanks, as opposed to what?” Still smiling, she adjusted the straw hat he’d just placed on her head. They had found it on the seat of the massive wooden glider they were sprawled on now. “Prettier,” he corrected himself. “Gorgeous-like. Beautiful-ish. Goddessy.” “Shut up,” she...
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Lithe and lovely Eritrean girl high cheek bones pearly whites chocamocha café latte has me staring at her aquiline nose “Hey G. I.! You buy hashish today?” Smoke rings and purple haze scotch and water tobacco and hash I take the pipe she takes the glass Slow dancing hits and sips mouths exchanging intoxicants taking off the...
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All flights are grounded due to the storm… Regardless of when the flights took off, it was going to be bedlam, a fact that did nothing to improve Trish’s state of mind. Her two-day business trip, the one she had to take because Sanders couldn’t, would now be a three-day one. She would fall yet another day behind in...
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You can’t go home? Rubbish. I’m there now, as I sit watching my mother-in-law pass away. The nursing facility cares for her with skill, but they don’t love her. It would be impossible to do their job if they did. But I love her. My wife does. And many others. We cling to the faintest hope out of selfish...
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i am a vessel empty ravenous for silence and grey walls and old words spoken by someone else perhaps some armor that would sever ties where alchemy has failed
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Cassie’s dawn ever walking Pushing Her grocery cart jewelry box Portable home Up an endless inclined city street As the rising sun illuminates The long, stained brown winter coat Head bent Slogging Statue of sorrow. Cassie’s sleep comes safely at midday. On a yellow bright sun bus stop Shielded from the attacks of dark night. Folded arms, brittle shoulders....
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There’s a trail I love to hike, when it’s fall in the Catskill Mountains. I call it the Throne Room, because after I walk a moderately easy trail through the forest, I arrive at the top of a mountain that is covered with magnificent thrones made of bluestone. As I sit down on one of these stone chairs and...
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I am Mkoi, the storyteller. I will start before the beginning… When there is still naught but the dark, the Only God, Mbombo, feel sick and alone. When the sickness get the best of him, he retch white-hot fire from his gut, and spew out the sun. Daylight is born,...
I don’t know what woke me. Some sound that had already dissolved before its vibrations could tingle their way through the layers of my sleep. I lay there with wide eyes and shallow breath and waited for it to resound, even as I realized that there are no instant...
Anybody out there writing a book, or a serial, or anything longer than short, raise your hand. If we were actually in a room together, I suspect I wouldn’t be able to see the humans for the palms. And good for all of us, because you haven’t lived, lost your sanity or cursed the gods with any real feeling until you’ve tried writing a full-length something, fiction or otherwise, and survived the experience. read on...
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