Len had a lazy eye and was balding, our English teacher. He wrote on the chalkboard and directed us to copy the lines into our notebooks: Behind the hatred there lies a murderous desire for love He didn’t quote the… Read More ›
Creative Nonfiction
Put things back
I’ve been carrying around this Pendaflex of old writing for years, and yesterday I made the mistake of getting it out. I haven’t read most of it since it was written, dating back to 1992. Once you start, it’s hard… Read More ›
Dan, Dana
I met Dan through Jim, who I met through Chris in the basement of a frat party. Dan made friends with Jim as a regular in the sub-shop, where Jim worked, in Pittsburgh. We all wound up living together along… Read More ›
Rabbit’s Foot
Dan was a friend of a friend, my long-haired friend who played electric bass. He didn’t just have long hair, he had Heavy Metal long hair: wild, dreading in places, unkempt. His hair drew long looks in public, in our… Read More ›
Breach
The answering machine beeped into the dark of the basement. The panel for the security system flashed, indicating a Perimeter Violation in the master bedroom, a faint, high-pitched ring, somewhere. Chumley was freaking out, his claws skittering across the tiles…. Read More ›
Foraging
I take walks from work to clear my head, get some light, take a break from the computer. Outside, the scene is the same but still, I forage. I’m looking for ideas, listening. Though the scene is about the same… Read More ›
Voodoo Doll
Kendra was so beautiful she made me uncomfortable in my house. Even though she was with her boyfriend John, her beauty (and my attraction to her) would prevent us from ever having a normal relationship. They came up from Philly… Read More ›
The South Side
Blanche told Shana she could fire a tiny laser beam from her fingertips if she pressed her palms together and focused, just right. If she were to fire a laser beam, it would be at TED, the unofficial mayor of… Read More ›
Cover Letter
I started in coffee 20 years ago at a small shop called Analysa’s HavaJava. It was the only café in town. I said to the owner, I like it here. Are you hiring? I learned the ropes with the espresso… Read More ›
Ultimatum
Utah Avenue is a sad, crooked street that runs up the back side of Seattle’s industrial district. I’ve been walking this street for 17 years now since it’s where I work. It’s where I go to clear my head, get… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 