A Fable

By on Feb 13, 2014 in Cuttings, Fiction | 7 comments

Once there was a bird. She was the finest of birds. She was all of the things that make birds desirable to us mere humans. She was quick-witted. She loved to laugh. She was kind beyond kindness. She was strong, yet delicate. Even though her heart had been wounded, she found a way to rise above. Her beauty, obvious on the outside, had its origin from within. In short, she was a bird among birds. She was one to be recognized on her own merits. She didn’t sing very much, for even though she had a wonderful voice, she had been told that it wasn’t acceptable.  One day a weary traveler...

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Waiting for Signs

By on Feb 12, 2014 in Cuttings, Fiction | 8 comments

My mother believes in signs. A bird that alights on a branch near her kitchen window possesses the spirit of my dead grandfather, listening to us, guiding us forward. Pennies found on the street are good luck. God is here among us, she says, blessing us with His presence, dropping small miracles at our feet. I want to believe in these signs, but something stops me — the fact that I can never feel God no matter how hard I try. Staring at the ceiling from my bed at night, my prayers are all yearnings, wishes, poured out like coins into a cosmic slot machine. I always make the same request:...

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The Incredible Melting Man

By on Feb 9, 2014 in Cuttings, Fiction | 1 comment

MELT ONE They arrived at the check-out line at the same time. Oops. Awkward, empty thought balloons. She pushed a full carriage; he held a quart of milk. “Go ahead,” she said with a quick gesture. “Oh no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “You go.” “No, please,” said the logic of her overflowing cart vs. his one-handed purchase. “Uh, ah…” And then he melted to the hard, scuffed floor, reduced to rivulets of green goo, and oozed under shelves of candy and tabloids.   MELT TWO He was at work, standing at the time-clock, watching the minute hand. She was fanning...

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Into the Light of Things

By on Jan 14, 2014 in Cuttings, Fiction | 6 comments

Michael’s shiny Volvo slid across the ice and crashed into the grove… When he woke, Michael clambered from the wreckage, then floundered in the drifts — punching through with every step —  … ‘til he reached the barren lane.  Under the yellow of the stars, his breath plumed like an egret, and his boots crunched and squeaked.  Blood spilled from his crown, hit the wintry air, and stiffened like black jelly. And Michael staggered on… He thought of his naughty Beagle pissing on the couch, and smirked.    “Almost home, boy.”    But the...

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All Suffering Soon to End

By on Jul 29, 2013 in Cuttings, Fiction | Comments Off

My boss called in the early afternoon while I was still in bed. I’d been working with a hotel housekeeping staff, cleaning guest rooms and getting paid under the table because I couldn’t be hired anywhere that required a background check. “What do you want?” I groaned. “Can you tell me — after the horrible morning I just had — why you didn’t show up for work?” “I didn’t feel like it,” I said miserably. “You didn’t feel like it?” “I guess not.” “You can go to hell,” she said before she hung up. I rolled out of bed, stepping carefully around the garbage...

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Translucent Fire

By on Mar 11, 2013 in Cuttings | Comments Off

You are with Savage at a ramen stall amongst a dozen other foodcarts that dot the river on both sides, the pink and lavender lights of the love hotels and soapy brothels of the red light district smear across impossibly radioactive waters, the Hamanomachi district, known for the densest foot traffic in the city, thousands of wandering husbands off for a night with Russian strippers, hostesses who charge sixty-five an hour to pour them cheap whiskey, straighten their ties for them and hold false conversations with their fake eyelashes, they come back week after week bestowing bracelets and...

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