One Dot Below the I
THE WAY YOU COME IN CRASHING THROUGH THE CEILING IN YOUR BURNING NIGHTGOWN SCREAMING WITH YOUR MOUTH ALL SMEARED AND BLOOD POURING FROM YOUR EARS AND INTO OUR QUIET LIVING SPACE YOU BRIEFLY REMIND US OF THE IMPENDING DISASTER THEY TALK ABOUT ON...
The Brockford Files - Paw and Prejudice
**The Brockford Files.** **- Paw and Prejudice.** I was killing a coyote when dad walked in. The coyote's name was _El Cayo_ and he was the main villain in the story I was pounding out for the school magazine. “Err!" said...
PARALYSIS
 WHAT I'M WRITING ABOUT IS THE TOTAL PARALYSIS WHEN ALL POSSIBLE RESOURCES ARE IN USE AT THE SAME TIME, AND NONE ARE ALLOWED TO BE MORE THAN JUST BEING...
*Poem* Species Dysphoria I
* * * SPECIES DYSPHORIA I THE CONSUMER * * * |  |  |  | | More Eversave local...
Dances with Humans - the Hollow Silence, Part 4
**Therese****'s Diary entry, dated march 17, 2016** Today I'll search Cobbler's Dell for places where I can shoot interesting photos for the feature. Ian is off to_Coeur D'Alene_ to have someone examine a bagful of ore. He seems convinced it's worth...
One Dot Below the I (#3)
I KNOW IT'S SEPTEMBER AND THE HEATHER IS ABLOOM NOW AND I KNOW IT'S RAINING FOR I HEAR IT STRIKING THE ROOF ALSO NOW THE RAIN IS HEAVY THIS MOMENT DO I HAVE THE TIME FOR "NOW" IF THE HEATHER BLOOMS IN THE RAIN NOONE WILL NOTICE...
And the Wolves Sang Her Name - The Hollow Silence, part 5
**Cobbler****'s Dell, Idaho **** _(March 29, 1916)_ ****.** “What IS that contraption?" Demolitions expert and part-time piano player, Gerry Badger studied a curious piece of machinery his friends were carrying into the...
Cry Me a Murder (Part One) : Six Red Tears
Museum director Philip Smythe marched down the hallway of the Oakfort historical museum, the hard heels of his shoes banging against the marble floor with every angry step. He was underslept, stressed out and even grumpier than normal. The museum was...
Havana or Hell, part one
_Havana or Hell_ I When I was a kid, my father built a small recording studio in our back yard. That was back in 1993, two years before the voices in his head told him to pack up and move out. It wasn't a fancy studio with automated mixers, digital...
Salt of the New Earth (*Short story*) Part 1 of 3
"_But look at the map!"_ _Science officer Trevor Nielsen was desperate, almost pleading. His voice was shaking from a combination of agitation and wounded pride, as he traced a circle around a light green area on the map, with a coffee-stained...
A Deadly Lullaby for Mother
A Deadly Lullaby for Mother. Walter's mother was drunk, again. She sat, slumped over the coffee table like a rag-doll made from sagging skin and shiny jewels and, like so many times before, with an empty tumbler clutched in her hand. A solitary...
*Poem* I Have to Start This Way
I HAVE TO START THIS WAY SO THE SENTENCE DOESN'T RUN ON OR ESCAPE (FROM HERE) AND FLY INTO YOUR EYES OR TURN AROUND AND ERASE ITSELF OR FALL RIGHT THROUGH (LIKE HERE) AND CONTINUE ON THE BACK OF THE PAGE OR IN EIGHT YEARS. BUT ONLY THE BACK OF...