• malcolmsconstruction
    The old sots rev their saws and smoke their spliffs as the boy trips over to me in his too-big boots, his jeans slipping from his hips. ~ Diary of a Heretic, Part Three/Failure Makes You More of Who You Are
  • At the meeting, I said, “There is no alternative, unless you want to spend your life blotting out the basic questions. Ordering yourself to shut up, don’t think! How are you going to suppress everything you wonder about? Everything you dream?” ~ Diary of a Heretic, Part Two
    At the meeting, I said, “There is no alternative, unless you want to spend your life blotting out the basic questions. Ordering yourself to shut up, don’t think! How are you going to suppress everything you wonder about? Everything you dream?” ~ Diary of a Heretic, Part Two/Success Changes You
  • beekmanrailings
    "That's the thing. I have to rise above myself and stop caring if my precious, stinking soul is pure." ~ Diary of Heretic, Part Three/Failure Makes You More of Who You Are
  • Walter's eyes met hers and she reacted to his great rush of excitement.
    Walter boosted her higher with one hand and cupped her head with the other as they kissed inside a mob of travelers. Never before had Walter kissed Amanda. Never on the lips. And never throughout a spinning, unending moment.
  • sleepinggirlslider
    Amanda had tormented him with a child's relentless savagery for nearly a year.
  • unreal supplicants in a Buddhist temple
    "Once or twice, I opted for a regular handshake, but it simply did not suffice. Better to touch their temples than to have them pound their noses on the floor." ~ Diary of a Heretic, Part Three/ Failure Makes You More of Who You Are

Blog

  • Find the Boy

    (from "Diary of a Heretic," Part Three, Failure Makes You More of Who You Are) Just find Mad Mike... Read More ›

  • Crazy Women

    Edward says I assault him with my beliefs like a machine-gun, hoping a bullet might lodge in his... Read More ›

Flash Fictions

  • Crazy Women

    Edward says I assault him with my beliefs like a machine-gun, hoping a bullet might lodge in his... Read More ›

  • Birdsong

    No space, no time, no Thomas. And then—how inevitable: Time kicks in. I’m Thomas again, or... Read More ›

Work in Progress

  • Playing House

    Chloe said the purity of the mist was such that two tiny spurts lifted you all day. It had stung Amanda’s tongue in fast sprays of one-two; three-four. Yet the dispenser still looked full, like an unused fragrance sample. Hours later, she found that being alive and alone in this state caused the... Read More ›