Short Fiction

clean well l placeRA CHILD’S DUES

The child loved the old man partly by intuition and partly because of his ready smile and easy laugh.  The child’s uncles had traveled on a boat long ago, young men in frayed clothes and little boys in sailor suits, shaking and vomiting upon undulant wooden planks.  They had lived in poverty, and they had fled poverty, and the old man had been their guide.  Once he had built a dummy wall inside his farmhouse to hide food from Mussolini’s troops.  He had heated bricks in fires and wrapped them in towels to warm his children’s feet.  He’d hammered dents out of pots and labored behind oxen to till other men’s fields.  Three of his children died….

-Read Full Text at A Clean Well-Lighted Place (May 2013)

-Print Version (forthcoming)


curbside splendor cover


 Leaning over the sink, she looked in the mirror and watched her fingertips touch the corner of her mouth.  Her lips had a bluish tint under the florescent lighting.  She stared herself in the eyes for a while, dimly aware of the sounds behind her: a woman coughing in a stall, the muffled rustle of strangers on the platform.  She stepped back from the sink.  There was nothing wrong with her.  She looked fine….

-Print version available at Curbside Splendor (Fall 2012)

-Or digital version at Amazon


 SB                             ANONYMOUS

A week before Labor Day, at Hillcrest middle school, someone had been raped.

 “It happened right here,” Chris said.

They were by the back doors, where a strip of black top ran along the edge of the building. It was in the morning, before the first bell rang, and the air was crisp….

-Read Full Text Version at Switchback (Spring 2012)

-Listen to the  Audio Version read by Juli C. Lasselle