it’s september

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this summer i wrote for a progressive, prompt based contest at AWCS, and made it to the third and final round of ten finalists. i didn’t place but i wrote 3 stories that i can expand and try to find them homes. i’ll take it!

september

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september morningsquirrels pitch pinecones onto the roofwhere are my socks?

week 5, quarantine

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my hair is morphing, christopher walkenesque it keeps snowing and i keep wearing sweaters, sweaters i’m running out of cooking ideas over here, help me out, will ya? my nerves are sizzling, sizzling i’ve forgotten how to knit narcoleptic + wild dreams watching finnish/nordic/polish murder mysteries

tough guys

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“look at those fucking flower shorts.” “i like them.” “and he wears a fucking hockey jersey. no fucking concept. i told him to get some tennis clothes.” they devolve into a discussion about fashion on the tennis courts, discussing the AUS open before swerving back to their friend with bad taste. “pink shoes. fucking pink … Read more

forgotten girls

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i’m 55 years old, and a writer, and my teenage years have been over for a long time. it’s hard to remember. i sit in front of my computer and stare through my words, and watch Val sink into the mud of a shotgun wedding, and Brenda step into a locked stairwell in a psychiatric … Read more

city#1

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shift change lonely nurses squelch through slush outside the Chumir a meth head bums a smoke –this dark city