I was always taught  To put receipts away. As every item is bought, In my desk that paper stays. From the headset on my desk  Including the board I type this on. Should something turn out grotesque By the next day it would be gone. But now, I think, should the time come,  That is…

Sometime between dusk and dawn In a col stop on the edge of town A glass angel walked in the door. Though we wore no crown, She greeted each of us like queen. And with grace sat down to read. She was the friendliest face I’d seen After a night cold and tired. I was…

Hungover in a museum  I struggled to read the self important words of artists that thought themselves poets and wordsmiths reaching into nothing trying to stitch meaning through the sterile displays after drinking with Foreigners seeing the palaces of Kings enjoying the beauty of Music these pompous halls held nothing for me with no one …

Dreaming The crimsons fade as dusk settles away I dreamt you here with me, overlooking our final moments The fires set deeply within   I remember those nights when you held me near Your clouded mind fogging our vision Lying your fair frustration upon our bed   Now, your fevered touch within my dreams raises…

“Are you alright, ma’am?” The young sheriff’s deputy asked in a kind, southern drawl. “I guess so,” she said shaking. “I mean…I am not sure.” She sat on the passenger side of the truck. The door was open, the top right side of her body leaned against the front of the bench while her legs…

I still remember the burnt candles in the crawl space beneath our home. Fear shook me, and I loved it. On that day, my interest in the paranormal was ignited. The year was 2000, and we lived in a beautiful five-bedroom, hardwood floor, hundred-year old home. My family and I were ecstatic until things started…

Plush black and white tuxedo feline Fountain of whiskers, amber eyes blink, blink, blinking I sip sweet organic Gumitindo while reading the new york times it’s the first spring morning without you on the patio, curled up like a comma drowsing under trailing trumpet vines squirrels chatter, flickers tap, tappity, tapping crabapple tree blossoms, a…

In the pastoral Blue Ridge Mountains, young women followed in the tradition of their mothers and sisters to attend Woodson College, a private women’s college of 800 students. During freshmen week at Woodson, girls arrived in Mercedes and Lincoln Continentals with their fathers—bankers, CEOs, politicians, and their mothers who cancelled Country Club tee times to…

Rain pitter patters against my window in a soft, melancholy beat. The rhythm is familiar; the song is a crescendo that soothes even the faintest of heart. Dreary Sunday mornings like this, where it is never fully day or night, are rare. With both parents out of the house and no plans for the day,…

I always loved the summertime.   Elaina Martin, my dearest friend, used to come visit me during the long summers. We met in private school. Although she was of a well-to-do, wealthy family from the Cape and I, of a small farming community on a scholarship, we became fast friends. The first time Elaina came…

Dare I to tell you of Sacred Mount Sana in Finland?  Tell you things you may scoff at, criticize, or  disdain? I hope you’ve had these experiences too; if you haven’t, you may say my words are ghosts and untrue. I dare to spill my feelings and let the story unfold. A tale of possibilities,…

“The fat one’s no good. While she’s out, get me oxygen. In the hall. Do it now while she’s gone! The doctors don’t matter. They’re stupid. I know everything about this. I need 12. They are only giving me 6. I need 12! Get it! Do as I say. Get it now!” Conflicted, grief-stricken, obedient….

Wearing his white cotton dhoti, a white cotton shirt, a black coat and a white topi , Subba Rao a  vakil at the New Municipal Court in the city of  Rajahmundry set out of his tile roofed house. Drawing water from the well in the backyard his wife called out, “Get home before dark. The…

Missing for seventy-five years found in a melting glacier he a shoemaker and she a teacher a prolific Swiss couple Marcelin and Francine, had seven children she never climbed the glacier before and never would again. I imagine the fragrance of wine on their breath the sound of their laughter Marcelin singing sunshine on blue…

I never thought it was a big deal, that I was Mexican and couldn’t speak Spanish. I grew up in a small country town where my cousins and I were the only Mexicans in our school besides maybe one other family. It was never brought to my attention that this was a bad thing. Growing…