Category Archives: short story

Short Story (Baltimore City Paper Fiction Contest)

Hi lovelies!
Great news to share~ I received Third Place in the Baltimore City Paper Fiction Contest. This was my first go at fiction so I’m especially happy! 🙂 Please take a read… short “teaser” is below.

So Much Closer and Far More Brilliant

He is late—and after finding his way up the wooden steps, the upstairs bar unfolds like those 2 A.M. roses handed out by Middle Eastern men for $1—roses that promise so much, then wilt and fall open with the slightest touch.
 
Still, he must admit, they do manage to bring smiles to pretty women at last call. He’s bought a few here and there—although it hasn’t brought him any closer to a girlfriend. No one seems interested in a paralegal who likes sonnets, much less someone who everyone (since first grade and the moment those thick glasses graced his small nose and magnified his already-big green eyes) calls “Owl”.

No one except for maybe Molly, but tonight is her goodbye party……..READ MORE

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! 

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Filed under fiction, short story

vignette from my grandmother

she remembers still
dressing impeccably,
regally in matching shoes and
handbag with fringe,
remembers twirling nervously
on the way to the city,
to the theater,
where the horror movie picture played.

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Filed under family, poem, poetry, short story

like pea soup

I feel like I’m dying in these fog filled mornings,
that one orange streetlight a fuzzy eyesore and my mind is buzzing
with the lack of memories.

Somewhere in the daze of the morning drive, listening to the song
the same I heard before I left you last night. The last time
lingering your scent

it freely dances across my sweater and into my nose

Could we go back there and figure things out? I think
the heavy rain makes a beautiful sound when it hits the glass
and slides on down;

I think we might have a chance if we could only take home
the hazy clouds, lay down, and sleep a little
finally sleep a little

[circa 2003?]

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Filed under free verse, poem, poetry, short story

To Her, Love Wayne

when you dance, my heart beats so that I can
barely hear the guitar ripping
through the amplifier, damaging, loud,
and when you look at me and smile,
it seems I’m not alone in this bar but with my lover
who is like me great,

and when you speak
we talk of books, of Ayn Rand, and the meaning of
reading and understanding
that great swirling world just outside the door of this bar,
that can seem so pale sometimes.
I made you that stone blue necklace because it reminded me of
your eyes
and when you wore it right then, while you danced,
I knew it was love.

I traveled every Sunday night for you.
I waited to talk to you, patient.
I bought you beers, and for your sister,
thinking you noticed me, my smile, my love,
I dreamt of you
in my arms, only mine
mine mine mine,
I wanted The Fountainhead to give to you
like in those shaking dreams,
dreams where you and I stood on the summit
and consumed each other
and the pale pale world.

I ignored their laughter, those musicians with long hair,
long past their days of true rock and roll–
who are they to judge me,
they can’t move on from 1979,
from mediocre covers of uninspired music.
I professed my love after four months of longing,
of knowing you and me,
me and her,
meant to be, like a happily ever after…

you smiled
and looked away and around,
around, around, around,
desperate for?
for what?
someone to save you from the embarrassment–

I hear them laughing, and i can’t sleep anymore, and
I hear you saying, “you’re nice, but”
and I can’t dream anymore.
I will be patient. I will wait for you.
you will come crawling on bloody knees to me
back home like the exile who has
gone so far away punished
hurt,
lonely,
near death,
and is forgiven and asked to come home.

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Filed under literature, poem, relationships, short story

manic

My cat and
I
live now in a tent sometimes
my car
and when she talks to me
she says – do it!
You do it! Dream it!
Be it!
Don’t confine yourself to him
Don’t live in that little square
Spend it!
Be it!!
Feel it cat – that high high high!!!
We can go anywhere you and me…

I can spend days
sometimes days
before I 
I need to wash my hair.
Sometimes like looking
through a telescope backwards
I 
remember my life before…

Oh cat, no mind! let’s pick up and go!!
We can live in Costa Rica
where the black sand welcomes
misfits and we
can plunge in with all our clothes on!!!

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Filed under poem, poetry, psychological, short story

they will never pull me under with their gold teeth

In a hush hush voice, he creeps through the door and says, “follow me” and I go knowing what is behind that door but pretending a surprise because I need the adventure and the adrenaline and they say it’s good for me, every once in awhile, to get away from the cold food served on blue trays. So follow him, I do, through the darkened doorway and out into the sunshine of a cloudless day. He holds my hand and shows me a pond, green slime-topped with huge goldfish lurking underneath, eating algae and growing bigger and bigger and I know they will eat me if they have the chance with their gold teeth that matches the sun if you look at the angle right. He tells me to throw the bread crumbs into that slimy mess of a pond and feed the fish but I know they want to eat me with their gold teeth and make me their breakfast on this fine day and that if I throw the bread, I will die.

I put the bread into my mouth to protect it and he says in that hush hush voice, “now now” and reaches into my slimy mouth to retrieve what has already disintegrated into paste. I have saved myself to live another day with my blue trays and rocking chair but the thing is I don’t know why. He seems bored. My skin is burning from this outing and I want to go back inside, away from vicious goldfish and cloudless skies. He says in his hush hush voice, “Maybe tomorrow, you can feed the fish, they really like you, you know, they really do.” He takes my hand and I follow him back through that darkened doorway. The goldfish swim on angry as we take our leave. They leave trails in the slimy water while I lick my teeth with my tongue that tastes of stale bread. I say over again in my own hush hush voice, “they will never pull me under with their gold teeth.

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Filed under psychological, short story