Taco Bells I Have Known
March 1, 2020
I was stoned the summer after high school. We went to Taco Bell every day. I’d been in the system since junior high.
short stories
A Redwood or a Promise
March 1, 2020
We speak of this fantasy when he is not too groggy from the morphine. In these times of clarity, my love for him forms bone and muscle.
Saturday Morning
October 21, 2019
Later, the girls stand in front of the open refrigerator, slightly feral: slices of cheese torn from plastic, pickles from the jar, a swig of Hershey’s syrup, jelly scooped out with a finger.
Dragonflies
September 13, 2019
They gorge on mosquitoes and butterflies, a glut that cupcakes and roasted beef cannot satisfy. Mosquitos: a bloody morsel. Butterflies: how thrilling to make a meal of such gentle beauty.
The Children
September 13, 2019
“Do not forget this,” you’re telling your future self, because you searched every room. The third open door must have been a mistake.
The Pines
August 8, 2019
At that point, we expected locked doors, staff with keys, and intricate systems of levels and points that determined our value, our movements, our freedoms.
The Onion Van
March 2, 2019
The Onion Van was parked adjacent to a road leading deep into the forest, quite possibly the very primrose path that carries people to places miles from where anyone can hear them scream.
A Dog and His Very Small Girl
March 2, 2019
“Hello,” the very small girl whispered to the pup as she settled into her seat. “My name is Tillie. Your name is Levi, and you are mine.”
The Well Man
February 14, 2019
I couldn’t drop this in Sawyer’s lap. He couldn’t know there was any more trouble than driving into town when the well ran dry.
I Never Killed a Fox
January 21, 2019
The boy held two fingers sideways, squinting toward the horizon. “Thirty minutes,” he silently mouthed to himself, dropping his hand.
