Fiction · Short Story

Willow Creek

I remember when Stacy and I would go down to Willow Creek to skip rocks. I’d get mine all the way across; hers would only travel about half the way before descending out of view. “No one’ll ever try to skip that one again,” I’d say as the stone tucked itself in to the muddy… Continue reading Willow Creek

Fiction · Gallimaufry

Quilt. Dousing campfire. Toy sailboat. Love letters.

The following passages represent four sequential moments from one of my weathered composition books.  ............................................................................................................................................... A patchwork quilt is spread upon the jagged, broken stalks of last summer's crop of corn. The colors are dull, uninviting, like the content of our conversation. We've drifted here. Those pieces of fabric were selected with bleary eyes and… Continue reading Quilt. Dousing campfire. Toy sailboat. Love letters.