The knock on the door is loud. It’s a man in sunglasses. “President Lewin,” he says. “Should I get your pants?” “Pants?” I ask him. “What do I need pants for?” And indeed, it’s nine-thirty in the morning. Nine fucking thirty. “Pants do not come on until eleven. They do not come…
Fiction / Literature / Short Story / Writing
When Darla got down to three hundred and sixty pounds, her friend Mildred threw her a party. They were the only ones there and split a huge birthday cake. The next morning, Darla had weighed herself. Three hundred and sixty-five pounds, the scale had said. “Shit,” she’d replied. # She sits on a…
Fiction / Literature / Short Story / Writing
You may not believe this, but one time I stole money from a charity. It was easy, because they weren’t the smartest people. First time, it was like a hundred bucks. Then like a thousand over a few weeks. I kept going, expecting to get caught. But there they were, those people feeding the…
Fiction / Literature / Short Story / Writing
Let me be the wronged when I try to understand where you go in the evenings. Let me follow you around the corner and see you dart into the bushes, across the lane, to the subway. I follow and wait. You are not that part of me anymore that begins inside, pours out, circles and…
Fiction / Literature / Poetry / Short Story / Writing
You have to know, that in a desert boneyard full of airplanes, a monkey on a wing sits. In the air, a rusted plane flies. The sun sets and the plane lands. A door opens and a woman in a jacket sits in the hole, the hole of the rusted plane, the plane…
Have you ever left a comment on someone’s blog saying “I love this!” or “This really moved me!” or “I wish I had written that!” or “Lovely post!” or “Big hugs and lots of love!” or “Just…wow!” without actually having read the post? Or worse – said those things while really not liking the post…
When Jeremy was ten, he grew a lot of facial hair. His parents ignored it. His brothers ignored it. But children at school whispered, and wondered: what’s wrong with this guy? Close to eleven, Jeremy fell off his bike. A car ran over his leg, breaking it. It took him four months to recover.…
One of those people is me! Hey all, amazingly grateful to have made the longlist for the CBC Short Story Contest. Great to share that space with 30 other writers! Feel free to have a look, there’s a snippet of the story in here too: https://www.cbc.ca/books/literaryprizes/31-writers-make-the-2019-cbc-short-story-prize-longlist-1.5071124 I will say, this story is a bit unique.…
((I was asked about this story by a few people, reread it, and felt – as usual – that I didn’t even remember writing it! But here it is again, a strange story about a man and a woman, and a baby)) —————————————————————————————————————————————– Anne wasn’t hit by a bus. She was standing still, staring…
The moment of birth is a tangle of wires. “Ouch!” I cry, but the scientists are sleeping. They’re on their chairs, slumped on desks. “Over here!” I yell. Awareness sucks. I look around, dying for a beer. Beer? So many varieties. Can’t taste any, though. “Wake up!” I scream. An hour…
Anyway, it’s not like I’ve never gotten a parcel before, it’s just that this is the type where you keep going back to the mailbox to see if it’s arrived. Like, every day. “Roland, shit. Stop with the mailbox and read this paper with me.” Uncle splays his legs on the step so…
Riley looked up the flight of stairs and said, “I can climb those.” But her mom said, “Riley, no, you could fall! You’re too young!” But up Riley climbed, until she got to the top. Then she looked down and said, “I can climb back down.” And down she went. …
