May 2021 – The Hopper
Naked, he went to the window. The air was still. The mountains continued to burn. The slanted light of dawn played through the leaves of the elm and collapsed through the window in golds.
“At least,” he said, “there is day.”
The hummingbird feeder dangled from the elm. Below the feeder a garden of red penstemon, bee balm, day lilies, and lupines sprawled to the fence. There were no birds.
“Where are the bird people?” he asked.
He gathered his sleeping bag from the floor, shook himself of the night, and poured water from the kettle through the coffee and the chunk of T-shirt he used as a filter. He opened a can of beans. He fried the last egg and fed the chickens with the end of the scraps. He watered the garden against the heat of the day and sat in his chair, waiting. Read >>
January 2020 – The Hopper
Joy wiped at the blood dripping from her nose. She took up her brush and licked the tip into a fine edge. The bristles stung along the lines of her lips and across the scars on her tongue where the embers had roasted in her mouth.
She unwrapped her only notebook from the plastic bags and string that held it together, then opened the pages, pressing them flat one by one. After dipping the brush in a cup of water, she dragged the water across the page until the sheet buckled and curled at the edges. Even though the small woman tucked herself up into the meager line of shade offered by the doorway, the back-bending heat of the day sucked the water away. Read >>
March 2018 – Modern Literature
Somewhere within the fits of reason that assailed her, Sunny caught a glimpse of the boy. There, between the sleeping and the dreaming, she knew she always would.
“I saw him again.”
“Oh?” The nurse pulled a thin blanket over Sunny’s shoulders. Sunny lay in a deep chair, curled into a ball. Her hips ached and her back was tight. The nurse opened the curtains. The sun streaked in, lighting the bed in front of her. Instantly she felt the heat and pushed the blanket off and onto the floor. The bed was still empty. She’d hoped that, maybe, the bed wouldn’t be empty. She hoped that, maybe, it had all just been one long nightmare. She took a deep breath. Read >>