The night was dark, the moon a sliver in the western sky. It hid behind a cloud, from time to time peeking out to cast its faint light down upon the world. In the cemetery, there was activity. Johnson put … Continue reading »PROSE: Resurrection Men
Her eyes. It was always her eyes that grabbed me, forced me to pay attention to her and only her. Those eyes are large – too large, in fact. On someone else they would have looked strange, or frightening. On … Continue reading »PROSE: She
They’re hideous clichés. They feel the shame of it, the sour tang of guilt every time they indulge themselves in something they love. They are self-conscious. Aware of the rôles in which they find themselves to the point where their … Continue reading »PROSE: Stages
She pressed her red lips to the stone. There was a “click” as he pressed the shutter. She saw his grin when he had lowered the camera, and grinned back. “Can I take one of the mark?” he said. “Sit … Continue reading »PROSE: Kisses
Another 2a.m. She glares at the green glow of the clock as if it has insulted her personally. She has been in bed for three hours and feels like she has never been so exhausted as in this … Continue reading »PROSE: Sleepless
A documentary I watched last night on the Highway of Tears, British Columbia, had me thinking of a new story – and an old one that I’ve a mind to post here. Written for a friend and inspiration, after asking … Continue reading »PROSE: Nocturnal Acts