Short Fiction and Poetry

When the last whisky bottle wakes up empty, filled up with silence, I'm left with a feeling that isn't withdrawal or craving, [...]

The apron I wore said Cupcake Queen, but it wasn’t mine. All my claims to royalty were long past.[...]

The week before we killed her the weather was terrible. Sideways rain seven days straight, and cold, so bloody cold. [...]

Something hot to eat with something cold to drink. I see you lick an ice cream cone, and now I want one too. I check my phone for a text, an update, a sign, I sigh. [...]

Becca's hands trembled as she reached for her phone. She had never done anything like this before.  The docile wife, the patient mother [...]

Detonate is as good a word as any, good, say, as kiss, usually less personal but delivering as much feeling—[...]

Hank drove his pickup and trailer into the hot-air balloon launching area on the outskirts of Santa Fe and cursed at an unseen stranger[...]

We name the hurricanes and columns of winds. What will I tell this little breeze who asks why we have no name for it. [...]

The listing had shown up in Dylan’s text messages this morning, sandwiched between an ad for cheap Viagra and a reminder from his bank [...]

"I just don't know what else to do with him," Mya said to her mother, exhausted from lack of sleep [...]