A Place in the Forest, Part III

“That settles it,” Mava said decisively, concluding a dialogue she’d been having with herself. “We’ve got to go swimming.” Ivan smiled weakly. “I think I’ll just put my feet in,” he ventured. “I’m really not that hot.”  A drop of sweat chose that moment to roll off the tip of his nose, undermining him.  Mava… Continue reading A Place in the Forest, Part III

A Place in the Forest, Part II

“Oh no, I can’t eat that.” Ivan paused with his hand still outstretched offering the smoked trout on its open napkin.  “Uh, there’s hardly any bones in it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said uncertainly. “I’m pretty good at deboning them.  But you do have to be careful anyway,” he added hurriedly. “Some… Continue reading A Place in the Forest, Part II

The Visit

“Oh Addy, come on.  You can’t wear that.” Her mother’s voice is wounded, as if Addy chose her clothes intentionally to disappoint.  Addy looks down at herself, her cargo shorts, velcro sandals, and second-favorite t-shirt, the one with the frog on it. “Wear the dress you wore to Teddy’s baptism,” her mother continues. “With the… Continue reading The Visit

A Place in the Forest

A heavy crashing of branches sent two stealthy ravens up from their cover of leaves, croaking disgruntledly.  Mava’s knife was already in her hand when the man landed in an undignified tumble of twigs on the thick moss at her feet. “Lecher,” she snarled, crouching back. “Spying on me, were you?” The man scrambled gracelessly… Continue reading A Place in the Forest

Ecstasy with Emma

The drugs start kicking in almost immediately.  Coming up I think is the phrase.  I can tell I’m slightly off when I immediately rip open the wrapper of the granola bar before the guy even hands me my change, I’m not hungry I’ve just forgotten the order in which I would usually do things.  I… Continue reading Ecstasy with Emma

Brooklyn Short Story in Two Acts

“Oh shit, here he comes.” Amy looked up from the partial shelter of the doorless closet that Mike generously referred to as “the kitchen.”  It did contain the box of bagels (which waited in a disintegrating antechamber every morning when Amy unlocked the back door just before dawn, along with two large pastry boxes full… Continue reading Brooklyn Short Story in Two Acts

Not Listening

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Just like that, the magic words that bring me back to the surface.  Suddenly and not suddenly at all I’m sitting across from you, my eyes scanning your too-familiar face and reading the hurt, the disappointment, these things familiar too, urging me to retreat back into myself. … Continue reading Not Listening