My journal of big words and pretty pictures
The tight spiral staircase corkscrewed up from the marble floors. Each riser a chamber in a nautilus shell, compact and uniform. Sound contorted, ricocheting off the ceiling then down again. In her youth, the circling bannister was her playground. Laughter filled the stairwell instead of the angry din she was dodging now. Trying to get … Continue reading A step ahead
Snuggled together on their bed watching film noir, sheets kicked to the footboard, he grumbled. “Why do you stay with me?” She sighed against his bare chest. All she wanted was a quite, lazy Sunday morning. “Some days darlin’, I ask myself the same question.” “What’s your answer?” She swung a leg across his body, … Continue reading More questions
Iona watched her sister-in-law, Tess, through the kitchen window as she brewed their tea. The other woman was on the screened-in porch, wrapped in a quilt and reading a book. It was cold enough this late in October, that occasionally Tess’ breath rose in tiny white puffs. The two had spent the past two days … Continue reading Sisters-in-law
Grey clouds take over the sun, plunging the city into a premature night. Streetlights flutter on, like reluctant children being rudely awaken. Hunched on a park bench, I watch moths surrendering to the flames, and flinch with each crackle and sizzle. If I stand on tip-toe, balancing on the back of the seat, I can … Continue reading Moth to the flame
Approaching the gate crossing, the train’s whistle blasted out a warning. Cargo crates, some stacked two deep, creaked as the trailers rumbled along the tracks. The locomotive’s headlamps, dim from layers of grime and oil, cast out little light into the darkening day. The train’s gentle rocking sometimes mollified the merchandise stored in the crates, … Continue reading Night train
From the road, the house appears abandoned. Parasitic vines run rampant over the once manicured lawn. Shrubbery has gone feral, their wandering branches attacking the crumbling siding, worming their way under the slats and prying them away from the cinder block walls. The front door stands open, as if the old woman is still home, waiting for … Continue reading Cleaning day
Thin spiral notebook 