Archives: July 2015

Survivors Can Be This Way

He noticed as soon as he came into the room. “My bottles. What have you done?” “Now, Papi, don’t work yourself up. She’s only trying to make it nice. Such a good granddaughter she is for you!” He grunted, limped from the room. “I saw them in a box,” the girl said. “I thought they’d

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September 1940

The photograph does not tell the story. The faces, improbably fresh, betray little but youth. The uniforms are new, the flying boots unbuckled over battledress trousers. One fellow wears a jaunty scarf tied around his neck in the manner of Errol Flynn or Douglas Fairbanks as he leans against the ops shack in an attitude of

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A Walk in the Woods

The snow was deeper than it looked, cresting the tops of his thin shoes, soaking his socks until his toes were numb except for the occasional needle pricks of cold. His hands were warm enough, deep in the pocket, wrapped loosely around the coil of rope. With irritation he saw that, on this of all

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They Never Really Went Away

“The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.” He paused, staring out at the lecture hall through thick lenses, hands clasped behind his back. In his pinstripe cutaway and bow tie he resembled a vulture, the effect highlighted by gleam of the hall lights on his bald skull. “Anyone care to guess?” A tense

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A Long Farewell To All My Greatness

Suffolk had set his trap. Now it was time to spring it. “Lord Cardinal, your recent actions have done what you wished them to do. You have attracted His Majesty’s attention. Only,” and here he smiled, “it may not be the sort you had imagined.” Wolsey, stiff and impenetrable, buried in his velvet, sat with a face of

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The Newlyweds

Marriage must fight constantly against a monster which devours everything: routine. ― Honoré de Balzac “Look! That couple from the hotel.” I followed her gaze. We’d seen them almost daily since we’d been in France. We guessed they were perhaps on a second honeymoon. “They don’t look happy,” I said. “No, they don’t,” she said,

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We Are Sisters

“Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy.” Agnes smiled as she read, the notebook trembling slightly in her slim hands. “Another Delphine story? I thought you’d moved on.” I sipped my tea, grown cold in its cup.

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Why Is It Here?

“My land! Such a heat!” His mother fanned her face with the map. “You’re the one who wanted to see the goddamned thing.” Heat made his father irritable, as did long car trips. “You’re getting sweat on the map.” “Language,” she said, eyes darting toward the back seat. “Little pitchers, Howard.” Howard glanced at Howie in the back

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It’s All Up to Me

You ever listen to an echo of your own voice? It’s you, a few seconds ago.  Your breath, your vocal chords, your thought behind it. Not like a recording, since it’s gone almost as soon as you hear it. Your imprint, a shadow self.  It started when I heard my echo in the pedestrian tunnel.

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One Shot

One Shot Reblogged from 101words.org July 7, 2015 Leave a Comment 00Share Fulmar sighted along his rifle for what seemed a long time. He lowered it, shaking his head. “I can’t tell. Might be German. Might be American. I just can’t tell.” The lieutenant wiped his face. Command decision time. “You think you can hit

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