highway bridge

The chase begins

More of Andrew’s story… When Clay Grainger walked out of Woodson State Penitentiary, a gleaming black Escalade with heavily tinted windows was waiting in the parking lot. Grainger carried an orange trash bag, the same bags work inmate crews used when picking up trash along the highway. Filled with what few belongings he managed to keep in prison, Grainger handed the bag to the driver … Continue reading The chase begins

praying mantis

Preying mantis

Gullible people Food for praying mantis Eating their liver With fava beans and a nice Chianti, while off their meds *Praying mantis eat their prey while it’s alive; fava beans, liver, and red wine are listed as verboten foods for people taking Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitors. The combination is potentially fatal. Anyone who is prescribed MAOIs to treat depression, and dines on this meal, is probably … Continue reading Preying mantis

railroad crossing

Man on a mission

More of Andrew’s story… For nearly two decades, Clay Grainger sat in a tiny 6X9-foot cell, surrounded by bricks and steel – no privacy, no secrets. His neighbors heard every fart, every sob, every nightmare. It wasn’t enough that he hit his worthless attorney where it hurt the most. Killing his women was only the beginning. Grainger lost more than a third of his life … Continue reading Man on a mission

brewing thunderstorm

A salt life

Capt. Poppy Spector carefully guided her craft toward shore, focusing on finding any kind of shelter from the building storm. After so long adrift, finally nearing solid ground left her shifting between joy and panic. Her legs and arms, the muscles atrophied from disuse, trembled in anticipation. The ship’s hull scraped against the sandy shore, shuttering to a precarious stop. Waves urged on by buffering … Continue reading A salt life

vintage permanent wave machine

All an Acts

She worries about my ink and the extra bling in my ears, and nose, and navel, while fretting with the solitary Swarovski gems adorning her 00 gauge, stretched out earlobes. Arched, over-engineered brows punctuate her displeasure. She pooh-poohs my Black Dahlia lips, her blue morpho butterfly wing lids fluttering in fear. A tremulous rebuttal declaring dyes and ochres, kohls and rouge are not alterations, they … Continue reading All an Acts