Category Archives: Fiction

Moving bodies in space

Posted on by February 25, 2020

It’s easier to rock backwards than forwards; the push comes faster than the pull. My thighs quake as I strain, and for a moment, I’m holding up a hundred pounds of wood. I want to repeat this moment of perfect balance; I want moving furniture to come with the rhythm of sex. I want the crack of our bones when we come together to be the sound that formed the universe. I want the crack between our bodies to be an infinitesimal quark.

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I always get nervous when I use two definitions of a Trifecta word. Note – I have #2 and #3 in there.… Read the rest

Look Homeward

Posted on by February 25, 2020

I can keep memorabilia; dishes, furniture, knick knacks, and books. I can take pictures of the rusty old house, its weatherworn shutters so incongruous under the new green roof. I can cradle my memories like flowers once pressed between dictionary pages. I can even recreate the flavors in my grandfather’s recipes.

But I cannot hold onto  the smells. The basement’s dankness. The musty cedar fragrance of my uncle’s old bedroom. The layers of soap in the bathrooms.

This is my deepest grief about the Louisville house. That when it is sold, I will never again close my eyes and inhale the mixture of fall leaves and motor oil that hung over the driveway or the combination of mulch and roses that exuded from Poppa’s gardens.… Read the rest

Trifecta Meet N Greet

Posted on by February 25, 2020

This is a quick post to say how much FUN I had this weekend at the Trifecta Meetup. Our whole family loved getting to meet Lisa, Tara, Deana, and Lance. The Burson kiddos clicked instantly with Caroline and Sam, and Caroline kidnapped Deana for a walk down the beach collecting seashells. We had beach time, pool time, and restaurant time. I personally downed four Margaritas. Because priorities, as Tara R. explains it. Somehow, we never got around to taking a lot of pictures. Oh well. Next year, we’re hoping to do it in Portland. Scott’s sister lives in Oregon, so we could totally justify that trip.… Read the rest

High Noon In the Park

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Three old men sat on a park bench, setting aside their canes for a little while. In the distance, children shrieked ignorance of their own mortality. But the men rested together, each hoping the others would return on the next sunny day, all well aware that one day soon they would not.

This post is for my grandfather, my Poppa, who will have been gone five years this September. For that long, my mother has held onto his house. But it’s time for her to let go, and she is getting ready to put it on the market. This week, I’ll be with her, helping to uproot memories we’ve both held for lifetimes (it’s the house she grew up in, after all, the one I visited as a child), dislodge furniture that hasn’t moved in decades, and dismember a bit of history, because we must.… Read the rest

Coincidence

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“It would appear that you are correct.” Shana’s lawyer studied the sheaf of papers again. “But why give it to you?”

“I’m sure he thought it was something else. He’s been handing over my home office piecemeal.”

“And you videotaped the exchange?” The lawyer scratched his head.

“I film everything I have to do with him.”

The lawyer leafed through the pages and pulled out the deeds again. Five of them, rental properties, and Shana’s ex-husband had purchased all of them during their marriage. “You think this is what happened to the savings you inherited from your mother?”

“I know it.”… Read the rest

The House of Many Clocks

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“What time did the ghost appear?” The spectrologist adjusted his laptop.

“Midnight.”  Dana, the large woman sitting beside him on the couch, edged closer, looking over her shoulder.

“But…” The smaller woman, Beth, fidgeted in her chair. “That means it wasn’t… wasn’t midnight. If it’s twelve o’clock in here, it’s already twelve oh five in the bedroom and nearly …”

“But midnight exactly in this room.” Again, Dana edged closer.

The sisters contradicted each other this way throughout the interview. What time did they eat dinner?  (Five, five oh five, quarter past five.) Go to bed? (Nine, nine oh five, nine fifteen).… Read the rest

Even the gulls

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Evelyn partitioned the tomato into round slices. “You know, they make a tool to cut it all at once these days.”  Her granddaughter Joan shifted from foot to foot.

“It’s called a tomato slicer.” Evelyn thumped her knife down harder than she had intended. “They had them in my day. I never cared for them.” She set aside the cutting board and picked up tongs for the bacon. A grease bubble popped in the skillet. “Ouch!” She jerked her arm out of the way.

“You could cook it in the microwave.”

Evelyn eyed the girl. “You don’t say.” She got ice for her scalded hand.… Read the rest

Hellhound

Posted on by February 25, 2020

This week finds us back in the car with Kelly and her daughters Luna and Amber. (Amber doesn’t have a role tonight. But she’s still there.) Although this should stand alone, you can follow the previous link to get the first part oft the story. Right after the last part ended, they were attacked. We return to the vehicle in the aftermath to address this week’s word from Trifecta: ecstasy.

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HELLHOUND

Beast’s blood splattered Luna’s face. “Pegged him!” she cheered as Kelly braked the car.

“Good girl.” Kelly took a crystal ball from her daughter and smeared the dog’s blood on her own face and shirt, then sent her mind questing.… Read the rest

Charge

Posted on by February 25, 2020

And this, the lost century, we charge against our souls, holding aloft the future like some cosmic credit line. Reckless, we spend to abandon. We do not expect the bill to come due in our lifetimes.

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Those crazy cards over at Trifecta gave us three words, asked us to add 33 more, and challenged us to post the results. Mine don’t feel very original (and yes, I’m one of those writers; I refuse to accept that all of the stories have been told;  I refuse to merely hope for a unique way to retell an old thing; I hate it when I feel repetitive or wheel-reinventive), but it was a lot of fun to dig up a ton of things we should have shredded ages ago and put them in the picture.… Read the rest

Bandha UP

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“The mirrors are a distraction. Focus on what you feel.” MJ lay back on her mat.

I did not. “I feel a lot of things. I can’t tell which is right until I see how I look.”

My Yoga teacher tucked her ass up and hoisted her back towards the ceiling. “Try for that.”

“How will I know I look like what you look like if I can’t see what I look like?”

She sat up and pushed me into a reclining pose. “Concentrate on your Mula Bandha. Tilt your pelvis to make that flat back. Then lock it into your Uddiyana Bandha.… Read the rest