Click on one of these links to read a short piece:
Uneven Bars — Flash fiction
It happened the year no birds came to Marcia’s feeder.
“It’s odd, Leo,” she said. “Just odd.”
“They’re only birds, Marcia,” Leo said, not looking up from his bottle cap collection. “No telling what they’re thinking.” …
Grace Notes — Flash fiction
You can forgive only so many times before you reach the last time. My bags sit, packed and forlorn, by the door. The house is quiet, that hollow-empty quiet that makes ceilings feel too high and each over-loud tick of the clock seems drawn-out, almost reluctant…
Birdy Reformation — Flash fiction
These things have a way of working themselves out. Besides, who am I to say who should or shouldn’t sing about canaries?…
Blue Frog of the Blue Moon — Short story
The dictionary tells us that a Blue Moon is the second full moon to occur in one month, a rather rare thing. But in the land of stories, a Blue Moon can mean something much more rare. Something very exciting indeed…
Life with Fathers — Short story/Humor
“That Ward Cleaver. What a pompous windbag.” Jerry spoke aloud into the empty room. Millie was out of town and Jerry had just tucked away a pint of too-rich ice cream with some dandified name…
The Magician’s Assistant — Humor
Thank you for your most interesting and entertaining application for the position of Hypnotist’s Assistant. I am sorry to say that we are unable to offer you the job, not because we have offered it to someone else, but because you are singularly unqualified for the position…
Summer Wind, Summer Leaves — Narrative non-fiction
I once believed that the motion of leaves on the trees caused the wind. Sitting on our front porch that late-1950s summer, in one of those slippery turquoise metal chairs with the cut-out patterns on back, I looked at the sycamores lining our street and thought it made perfect sense: the leaves’ graceful fanning and swaying seemed to push and swirl the air into windy gusts, the way my grandmother and her lady friends did with folded papers on muggy afternoons…
Shoes (and Socks) and Rice — Narrative non-fiction
Nothing about our wedding was traditional. In fact, when you get right down to it, using the word “wedding” is quite a stretch…