Category: articles
-

Going Home
Neither of them knew the time. Rita could feel the heat of the afternoon sun gliding across the back of her neck and figured it must be getting late. She adjusted her hold on the orange cat, and turned away from the porch, towards Sal. “I got him,” she called. Her lips parted into the…
-

Waiting for the Woe
Sitting in this sparse gray room with nothing to look at besides posters of the digestive tract, no doubt provided by drug companies as perks for doctor’s offices, I await a verdict that will determine my future. I’ve done nothing to prepare for good news. Why should I? I’m not one these people who will…
-

St Modomnóc
A Byr a Thoddaid Dear sweet wee Saint Dominic went To Wales, to David’s See, and spent Some years in study, on his knees in prayer, And caring for the bees. Such care as bishops show their flocks Modomnóc showed his bees. He’d talk Words sweet as mead. It makes bees thrive full well,…
-

At World’s Edge
On the edge of the world, an old man had built his house. This house, of old brick, dark wood, and clay tiles of burnt orange, was naught more than a lean-to, though it served his purposes well. In fact, it could hardly be called a lean-to, as it had nothing upon which to lean.…
-

Angel of the Battlefield
I’m decidedly old-fashioned, wearing an apron and a smile as I cross the road to greet the new neighbors. Between oven mitts, I hold a freshly-baked pie, the pan still hot. My hair is done up high and tied with a ribbon. It’s all going so well, my fifties fantasy, until, from the bowels of…
-

Sign Beside the Stop Sign
Scrawled in rambling, crudely written letters it read “please don’t leave I love you”. And since one has to or should stop at a stop sign, maybe the writer thought that would make the beloved stop and think about what they might be doing. Maybe the stop sign was their special spot, where they first…
-

Looking Glass Theory
It seemed like the right thing to do, to scan the alcohol first, since the girl was standing right there, at her station, barely six feet away. Beep. She came right over. “I.D.?” Ridiculous; but Bruce showed her without making the joke. “Cool…” she said. She tapped the date into the device hanging from…
-

A Common Problem With the “I-Me” Thing
This writer is not really Johan Sigg so much as it is an entity positioned at a curious angle looking in on a man whom other people call Johan Sigg. “I” am certainly controlling that body called Johan but “I” am not Johan. “I” am not quite sure what “I” mean to say when I…
-

Last Adventure with Ray Mundo
On the first day after our schools broke up for the summer, Ray Mundo called for me early in the morning. When I opened my front door, the first thing he said was, “Are we still best friends forever, Queen Isabella?” “Our bond can’t be broken, noble Ray Mundo,” I said. “What new adventure do…


