writing



MISSISSIPPI 8 & 1


short story

11:56 pm and the concrete felt like a griddle. The sweat on June’s feet hissed steam against the broken rock, not that you could’ve heard it over the racket coming out of the river bottom down the way. Crickets and frogs, mostly. Full moon shining like a streetlamp - only light out there, shone the stars out.


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CLEAN


short story

Sasha squealed when she first saw my house. Nana’s roses were still blooming then and had climbed across the stucco. I picked a blood orange from the sanguinello tree Nana planted when she bought the house in 1954. Sasha peeled the orange and bit into it, red juice dripping off her chin. “Oh God. I gotta live here. I have cash.”



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SALT, CEDAR ASH, BURNT CARAMEL,

short story

Craig watched in the doorway as Jamie slipped off all her layers. He was drinking iced coffee out of a glass pint jar and the ice made cracking noises in his hand.

I’m a professional but when I saw Jinx undressed I must have reacted somehow, and she looked like a baby bird with a broken wing, but when she glanced at him he smiled and sucked coffee off his moustache.



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SEVERANCE

short story

Every man has that one thing, that one thing, that cracks him open. Bring it out at just the right time and you can see the man vanish, like the green flash as the sun dissolves into the ocean. No power, no name, no titles or degrees, just the soul and need that he was born with - pink, naked and squalling.

With Dr. Sidney Meister, that one thing is pinking shears.