“I like the sound of blueberry scones. What about you, hon?” I ask, but Alice continues peering into her Sconehenge menu with furrowed brows, as if she’s memorizing every item on… Read more »
I wipe a layer of dust off a large wooden box in the attic. It creaks as I open it. A dim light bulb hanging from the roof illuminates its… Read more »
She’s creaming butter and sugar. I’m at her feet with my Legos. She looks down and smiles. Who’s winning now, Greg? I hate Greg. He calls Mom every day. Her… Read more »
This piece was first published on The Weekly Knob – a publication on Medium. I wanted to write something light and breezy in response to their prompt – Salt Shaker…. Read more »
“Everything you wish for is on the other side of the hills.” Our bellies were empty, but Mother stuffed our eyes with ambition. Our eyes brimming with dreams, we stayed… Read more »
Behind him, the Monterey shore was turning into a distant speck. He stared out into the vast blue ahead. Cold gusts of briny wind slapped his cheeks. He wished he was someplace warm. He could go inside and sit with the others in the galley, but that would mean sitting with Cora.
Robots had squashed human rebellion by making an example of Crazy Gage. Whip marks on Gage’s back were the stuff of legend. The ‘crazy’ got added to his name after his stint in the underground cells.
A stacked lunch box as tall as the mound of files is waiting, both jostling for his attention. I say a little prayer for the person whose paperwork is in the file at the very bottom. The lunch box always gets precedence over the files.
She first felt a low ringing in her ears when Esmeralda made an entrance with her goat, Djali. Was it the magic of Hugo’s writing or the light summer breeze playing with the wind chimes? So strange!
The war is over. The world has gone to the dogs.