(Some stories have been submitted for publication and may not be presently available.)
(Courtesy of Mythic Picnic Magazine/ 3rd Place Micro Fiction Contest Winner) The week before I was remanded to prison, I put my dog Harlan, down. It was as if he knew I was going to be gone longer than the time he had left, and in the noblest act of sacrifice, he forced his organs … Read More Harlan
(Courtesy of Skyway Journal) Buying a pack of Marlboros for my dad, fifty cents. The dead eyed, pimple-ridden clerk behind the counter doesn’t question me. Nobody cares if I’m 13. Rushing back to the running car, freedom awaited two hours down the blackened asphalt of the Jersey Turnpike. Plink, Plink, Plink, Dimes tossed into toll … Read More The Boss
(Courtesy of Waterways Magazine) Peter looked anxiously at his watch. The school bus was running late, again. Depending on traffic, the parking lot at the Springwood Parks Playground would be full. It was a crapshoot every week, especially in the early spring. Everyone with a hint of cabin fever was eager to get outside and … Read More The Merry Go Round of SpringWood Park
(Courtesy of Flash Fiction Magazine) Jake lay with his head in my lap as we sat in the back seat. His mom had been driving for nearly four hours. Nobody had slept; we existed in the cobwebby Neverland between slumber and consciousness. “The Man Who Sold the World” played as we took the long drive … Read More Goodbye Bowie
(Courtesy of Skyways Journal) Shirts of fuchsia and daisy yellow meant to emasculate us Instead becoming our new gang colors worn with pride Old allegiances were forgotten while New beefs were created We wore borrowed equipment Gloves worn with the sweat of ten inmates prior Bats, rationed under the ever wrathful eyes Of guards taking … Read More Boys of Summer
(Courtesy of Resevoir Road Literary Review) The Chief had enjoyed two successful, medal-bedecked tours in the jungles of Vietnam. He enjoyed being in the thick of things, but a Purple Heart was as good a sign as any that it was time to settle down. He and his seed found a home in blue-collar Boonton, … Read More The Chief and the Folding Chair
(Published courtesy of DailyDrunkMagazine) It had absolutely nothing to do with doing something obligatory with my son. It was my weekend for custody, and I truly loved hanging out with him. I missed him every moment of the day he wasn’t around. I recognized I wasn’t going to win any father of the year awards; … Read More Bowling With Lebowski
(Courtesy of Waterways Magazine) Jenny wondered if anyone still bothered to read the Craigslist “Missed Connections” section. It seemed antiquated to her, but it was worth a shot. There had to be better technological options to determine how to connect with someone who she met briefly at the William Chris Vineyard last Saturday. Unfortunately, Jenny … Read More Missed Connections
(Courtesy of Secret Attic; winner of Secret Attic Short Fiction Contest) Nobody goes into a pawnshop of their own volition. Massage parlors, check cashing stores, and pawnshops are bastard stepchildren of urban sprawl. Each was a necessary evil, providing unique services against the grain of suburban enlightenment. Seeking them out was akin to lighting a … Read More Kings and Pawns
Sharks. A simple answer that spoke volumes. When asked why he didn’t go to the beach, Brody answered, “Sharks.” He watched “Jaws” at an impressionable age. That did it. He could barely swim. He looked like a spider in a blender; arms and legs frantically flailing. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t go into the water. … Read More No Day at the Beach
(Featured in Purplewallstories.com; nominated for Pushcart Prize) (WARNING: Contains adult content and themes) Same visceral reaction, regardless of the city. Pavlovian response to the jarring neon “Open” sign flashing against blacked-out windows. “Heavenly Delight Spa.” “Eastern Happiness Massage.” New York had whole districts competing to jerk you off. The thrill was in the hunt in … Read More Release
(Pushcart Prize Nominated, PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize Nominated, Finalist in the Texas Observer’s Annual Short Fiction Contest https://www.texasobserver.org/solitary-short-story-finalist/) The fireflies dance magnificently in the shadow of the Big House. Electric disco lights reflect joyfully in the razor wire; pulsating music I can feel but not hear. It’s been eleven days. I can tell … Read More Solitary
(Courtesy of the South 85 Journal; 2020 Julia Peterkin Flash Fiction Award Finalist) Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s not like they are throwing jobs at ex-cons. Excuse me. A justice impaired individual. I didn’t give a shit what they called me. I just knew I needed a job to keep my probation officer off my … Read More “Papa’s” Typewriter
