Short Fiction / Non-Fiction
Why are you So Sensitive?
Ravishly
“What is that? I swivel my head to see a thicket of dark coiled hair covering a tanned arm. It rests casually behind me, propped on the back of my chair.
What do you think you’re doing? I think it. But don’t utter the words aloud. After all, I’m at a dinner party deep in the tamed heart of suburbia. Instead, I turn to Brian, owner of the arm. He’s chatting up our host. I wait for him to finish. When he does, I’ll simply ask him to . . .
Stop touching me, I want to yell at him…”
I Was Lucky
Huffington Post
"I was lucky. I just forget that part sometimes. I was lucky when I was 11. Walking home with my friend, holding hands, we were carefree kids. That is, till a grizzled guy offered to buy us. He reached out and touched my hair, “Silky,” he said. Then followed, hot on our heels, block after relentless block..."
Lost in Flight
Huffington Post
"Where is the missing plane? Each day dawns bright, and with it, a new theory. Some are ominous. The transponders disabled, the crew complicit. The flight path reprogrammed via an on board computer. Houses are searched, conspiracies forwarded. Is the plane on an abandoned landing strip in Azerbaijan? Did aliens beam them up? Was a deity involved? ..."
Goodbye To You
Commuter Lit
"October 1937: Amelia dug her navigator’s grave all day, using rocks and shells to shove back the earth. Her fingers were blistered, torn. But at least Fred was decently buried underground. On the forty-seventh day you rest, she told herself. Yet, it was more than that long. She knew from the notches carved into the bark of the palm tree. Fred had been dying for much of the time and she’d been nursing him through..."
The Loneliness of the Long Distance Swimmer
Huffington Post
"My father taught me how to swim in the shallow waters of Long Island Sound. I tried to relax as he supported my seven-year old frame with two arms. At first, when he slid them away, I crumpled, going under. Eventually though, under his patient tutelage, I learned how to trust the water would buoy me..."