The Doorman
Just a doorman married to an art teacher, trying to make a little beauty or excitement through the written word
The Doorman
Just a doorman married to an art teacher, trying to make a little beauty or excitement through the written word
Just a doorman married to an art teacher, trying to make a little beauty or excitement through the written word
Just a doorman married to an art teacher, trying to make a little beauty or excitement through the written word
He didn’t care. He didn’t care and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. I watched my son as he sat on the couch and stared blankly into the distance, his little sister hugged up next to him as he pretended to comfort her. He pretended to care.
Ever since my mother’s sickness progressed to the point where she struggled to talk, he had barely spoken to her at all. Barely acknowledged her. It’s like h...
“E-ov”
The abbreviated words stood out to me like a middle finger in a church parking lot. An insult. A moral wrong.
I had been working at Gerseppi’s Pasta and Pizzeria for three years now, and I had known, all that time, that this day would come. Though I had prayed daily, agonizing with the Eternal Father to spare me this dilemma, the day had still arrived. Some poor, sadistic, freak with def...
I dream of a snowfall with all the white, winter glory that I’ve read in stories, that I’ve seen in movies, and I want it truly, you see.
I want a winter fair with icy stairs that I have to hold onto the rail or lose my footing.
I wish for a cold, so profound as to implode the idea of cold in this summer utopia of the sad soggy south in Alabama.
I want it to freeze, to seize up every road, e...
Can you hear it?
Listen
Feel the vibrations in the wall as it creeps toward you, seeps toward you, crawls on your skin until it tickles every bone.
Her voice drills in your ear and travels down your neck, through your spine, until it settles into your very core.
Hush
Stop breathing
Close your eyes and stop seeing, stop fleeing, stop needing to escape, because she feels your pain
She feels...
“So can you pick up radio signals with that thing?” The question was partially innocent, but mostly purposely cruel, meant to embarrass and, subconsciously, meant to intimidate. I remember looking at Timmy and laughing nervously. He had been the bane of my existence since kindergarten, and his teasing had never wavered. Sixth grade was just a continuation of the same.
Being the experienced loser...
Open skies beckon in something broader
Open minds calling for the devil’s daughter
Dancing like heathens around our bonfire
Dancing on the reasons we never tire
Like broken shores fighting a rising tide
Like trees shaken, braking aside
Watching teeth gnashing against their chains
Watching them dashing like a pouring rain
A fear of recognition I despise
A fear of what is coming from in the skie...
“Winifred, are you suggesting that you’re not going to smoke one of these fine Bavarian cigars?” Thomas’s mustache twitched back and forth like a small, live mouse on his upper lip as he scrunched up his face in disapproval.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Thomas,” Winifred replied as she placed her tube of fine, french lipstick back in her clasp and popped her lips in a distinctly obnoxiou...