The Writer
Doug leans back in his Lazyboy and stretches his arms over his head with laced fingers.
Doug leans back in his Lazyboy and stretches his arms over his head with laced fingers.
I relish the fine minutia of perfection.
I hear them, wriggling and squirming, first to my left, then my right, and then it filled my whole world with noise. The click-click-clicking of their little...
Water dripped from high above. Perseus gripped the hilt tightly and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. He hated waiting. A growl. Finally. The sword w...
“But what if I hold it like this?” asked Eunice.
Benny walked into my cubicle and his smile vanished. However, my own grin widened. This gag would play out perfectly. My papers were all laid out and askew t...
Steak was supposed to be on sale.
And as quickly begun, it was finished. White magic. My little sister. Gone.
Something green.
The world stuttered in a queer slant as I sat up. I stared at my hand. Love Potion Number 11. I thought it was a joke. Damn you, Ricki. She stood beside me— ...
“I know what you did,” said the voice and hung up.
A dense bluff of silver maples grew behind our house. I’d scamper as quietly as I could in the early evenings that last summer before Dad died. He’d come hom...