metal people sculpture with graffiti

Shell of a man

More of Andrew’s story… A scruffy grocery delivery man loitered in the hallway, teetering on the brink of passing out at any moment into a drug-induced euphoria. “You are far too good at your job, stop it,” Roni said when she answered the door. “You’re creeping me out.” Mayfield morphed before her eyes. The disheveled stoner straightened his clothes and stood up from his normal … Continue reading Shell of a man

pile of skeleton keys

Mind games

More of Andrew’s story… Unlike her first meeting with Madam Weronika, this time Nori met the self-professed psychic at a local coffee shop. Neutral ground after their last session at Nori’s sister’s kitchen. “Call me Roni,” she said, standing up to shake Nori’s hand. Settling in with her cup, and bag of teenage mementos Weronika asked her to bring, Nori mused about how so many of … Continue reading Mind games

railroad crossing warning lights

Second stage of grief

More of Andrew’s story… The second stage of grief is anger, and that is where Andrew lingered, unable to work his way toward acceptance. Having lost the two people he loved most in a heinous, and still unsolved, murder, Andrew depended on that anger to get him through his day, subsisting on the emotion as much as food and water. He wasn’t angry at his daughter, Ashley, … Continue reading Second stage of grief

cropped image of street performers

Return of the king

More of Andrew’s story… It was First Friday and the buskers were out on every corner. Mimes, beat-box performers, circle drummers, and the Silas Family’s 13-string bluegrass band were in place early for the monthly arts festival and farmers’ market. Fire dancers and hula-hoopers entertained with hypnotizing feats of agility and physical prowess, while Silver Men amazed with their ability to stand still as stone … Continue reading Return of the king

monster graffiti on white brick wall

The past comes calling

More of Andrew’s story… Nori sat at her sister’s kitchen table fretting with her coffee cup while the hazelnut latte grew tepid. “Well,” Paula, leaning back against the sink, drew out the single-syllable word. “What did Madam Weronika tell you?” Taking a sip of her drink, Nori made a face then pushed the cup away. “I’ll admit she was much more accurate in her recitation … Continue reading The past comes calling