by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Cloves Literary Journal) Every night before the sun goes down, we emerge Zombie-eyed with limp-wristed waves, never making eye contact as we stroll the painstakingly prepackaged and preplanned neatly stacked beige stucco cottages that from space surely look like a field of tombstones thrusting out of swamplands and the remains of alligators and oyster shells plowed over and made smooth with concrete … Read More Sprawl
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of The Adirondack Review) Despite almost dropping him into the water as I carried him on board, the Chief was in good spirits. It was the first time I recalled feeling the Chief in ages. His once formidable frame which was at times my protector or tormentor, was now frail. Bony as a supermarket rotisserie chicken. The backpack he clung to seemed to … Read More Baptism in Black
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Reservoir Road Literary Review) When you sit down in a group meeting, the first thing you do is look to your left and then to your right and reassure yourself that you aren’t as fucked up as the people on either side of you, but you don’t really know better one way or another because nobody has shared anything yet. You haven’t … Read More Jesus is Just Another Name for Gruyere
by dutchsimmons
(Longlisted by Reflex Fiction Magazine) ‘Does it hurt much?’ It was like getting stung by a bee; a swarm of bees, over and over, angrily pricking at your skin, stingers darting in and out like tiny daggers until you no longer cared. Eventually you wanted the feeling to linger as you slid along the razor’s edge of sadomasochism that is getting a tattoo. ‘It’s … Read More Mother’s Milk
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Moss Puppy Magazine) I see the same old man dressed as a sea captain on the side of the road every time Idrive down to the docks. He’s 70 or 80 or 90 but definitely ancient and always spinning spinning spinning asign advertising a local marina that offered guided charters of the wetlands.Impervious to the weather; a permanent fixture in a jaunty … Read More Golden Years
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of ExPat Literary Journal) Browsing through the stacks of used books at a Goodwill thrift store is a guilty pleasure. Like being in a local dog shelter, I’d love to turn everyone loose and bring them home with me if possible. Every time I moved and was forced to downsize, parting with any books was Sophie’s Choice redux; each was a beloved child that held … Read More Chasing the Suburban Dragon
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Vocal Media) Bennigan’s arrived in Jake’s hometown with tremendous fanfare during his senior year in high school. For a lower-middle-class family like his, it was a place of wonder. His family rarely went out for dinner; if they did, it was to Roy Roger’s for burgers. (His father was a huge fan of the “Fixin’s Bar” and its endless supply of tomatoes … Read More Death by Chocolate
by dutchsimmons
(Winner of the Purple Wall Stories Flash Fiction Contest) I don’t believe carnations are real flowers. I say this as I stare at the melamine-wrapped bouquet slumbering on top of the pile of garbage in the trashcan outside the bar. The reflecting moonlight bathes the flowers in a gaudy opalescent hue further adding to the artificiality of the bouquet. Why artificial? Because carnations aren’t … Read More A Brief Note on Carnations
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Vocal media) The origin of the Spring Rite of Dropping was unknown. Young Cassandra Ashley listened intently as grandparents spoke with hushed reverence about the tradition which stemmed back to their grandparent’s time, and grandparents before them. What little history that had been recorded, detailed the shire’s fortunes in times of the Rite. No one dared question the third-eyed wisdom of the … Read More Maple
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Vocal Media) Every family needs the tie that binds. That event or hobby which brings generations together. For my family, it had always been fishing. We fished for fluke in the bays off the coast of Sandy Hook, New Jersey on a tiny boat with an engine more suited for a moped. The three of us—myself, my father, and grandfather wedged into … Read More Passing the Torch
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Black Cat Literary Magazine) The patron behind me stood slack-jawed. It was her fault, but I shouldn’t have been triggered so easily.Her words reverberated in my head.“Well now I know what solitary confinement feels like. I’ve had ENOUGH of this lockdown,” shesniffed.“Have you ever taken a shit in front of somebody,” I menaced.I wanted her to bathe in the mystery of my … Read More Clementine
by dutchsimmons
(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 to fail and left me with no choice. My … Read More Harlan
Dutch Simmons 