Category Archives: Short Stories


It is possible that even in the eye of the storm we necessitate some discontent; it wouldn’t be the eye otherwise. At first the lull of lazy swells are a welcome break from constant torrents of tidal waves; although eventually everyone tires of sunbathing, leisurely sipping a beverage adorned with umbrella, and dipping toes into blue waters.  Has anyone ever stopped to ask why? Bothering with sloshing otherwise still bathwater onto the floor of life to embitter, mold, and slip over seems exhausting to me.

Continue reading


Middleton Park

Let’s take a journey together this evening; down a sidewalk past tall brick buildings, across streets, and into a park. The park is flourishing with color and vibrant with life; there are old stone benches, newer metal ones, and some wooden benches from sometime in the past. You’ll notice these things while strolling down the thin trail; you’ll also observe a woman sitting upon a stone bench.

Continue reading

High Tea With Low Lives

“More tea Hartford?” Lottie inquired to the polar bear with a red bowtie. Hartford continued to ogle the small ceramic teapot hovered over his cup and saucer. Lottie poured the tea “You’re very welcome Hartford. Do just help yourself to crumpets as you please.”

Continue reading

Her Name Is Maple

I sit on the floor staring at the chair in front of me. It’s old and rickety and doesn’t wish to be used, which means I can’t move it, can’t sit in it, can’t put anything on it; this chair is just setting in the corner, facing out the window. The legs of the chair are spindly and long, the feet curved shoes for rocking, its seat narrow and ornate. Carvings of vines and flowers cover the chair- across the headrest over the armrests into the seat and down the legs wrapping around the feet. The back is wide, padded, a leather cover to be aesthetically pleasing. I stare at it, cross legged on the floor, wondering what she wants now; why she is so quiet and unmoving.

Continue reading

On Serenity

“Gift me with another darlin’”He exclaimed while slamming the bottom of his bottle on the bar so hard it made his hand shake. He was easily on his fifth beer this evening and three empty shot glasses sat beside his resting elbow. He watched through swimming vision as the bartender sighed and reached into the cooler for another beer, popped the top and strode his way her hips in the rhythm of a natural erotic sway.

Continue reading