My journal of big words and pretty pictures
I am like one of those elaborate utility tools. You know the ones. They have umpteen different knife blades, a screwdriver, a bottle opener, a corkscrew, a saw (like something that tiny would ever be useful on anything thicker than a toothpick), a nail file, and an itty, bitty pair of scissors. I’m useful to … Continue reading Swiss Army wife
“Joel will be acquitted, right?” Francine chased after the public defender assigned to her son’s case. She slipped into the elevator just as the doors shut. “That’s unlikely, he had possession of the stolen money.” PD Guzman pushed the button for the 8th floor court room. “That money could’ve come from anywhere,” Francine’s voice rose. … Continue reading Got money on my mind
It was the smell that Vince would remember. That warm milk, piss and vomit mélange that always made him think of elementary school. Mix in the lingering pall of old, grimy oil, and the bitter tang of iron oxide on the back of his tongue, Vince felt like he was walking through a cloud of bad … Continue reading Warm milk and old oil
“It is a violent, discordant assault on the ears!” James stomped around Wei’s apartment, his hands pressed firmly over his ears. His heavy footfalls made the vintage LP skip on Wei’s turntable. She put out both arms, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop his pacing. She wanted to put her hands around his neck, … Continue reading Vicious violin
Blair huddled under a quilt, her legs tucked underneath her. A steaming mug of coffee in her hands, a splash of Bailey’s added to fortify her. A wintry wind howled outside her window, whipping the trees into a frenzy. Their brittle, rimed limbs scrapped at her window. She imagined a demon clawing to get in her house, … Continue reading Wintry winds
The plain, wooden cross, skillfully constructed from weathered, white-washed fence slats, appeared overnight in St. Anthony Gardens at the neglected burial site of a nameless decedent. Great care had been given to crafting a traditional grave marker, one that was reverent and not pretentious as were so many of the monolithic tributes in the cemetery. … Continue reading So, it begins
Thin spiral notebook 