I followed you to a grave of stones— the moon washed us out and remade us. We stayed there our whole lives, and waited for them to come. We waited for them to come. We let them tell us about a home with golden light and floors of loam, where we were born and lived
Just after three o’clock in the afternoon, Johnnie MacCracken’s Celtic Pub was dead as a doornail, which is exactly how Bud liked it. He swirled the last of his beer around in it’s red and white can before leaning his head back and tipping it down his throat. Belching inwardly, Bud crimped his can slightly
The door to the shed is open again. It’s a black yawning maw in a white face. ________________________________________________ I think something sinister has happened to my dustpan. Today is Thursday, the second day of Lent. I am sick, and I came home from work early after being sure to pass my germs along to everyone
Once upon a time, there was a small, lonely tornado. Tornadoes, as a rule, were generally not very social. They mostly kept to themselves – only very occasionally would you see one spending quality time with another. And, for the most part, the tornadoes were fine with this. Except for one. He was lonely. He