The battered green farm truck sputtered and died just as it arrived at the end of a long gravel driveway. The driver, a teenage girl, swore under her breath and tried to restart it without success.

Damn thing. I told Mom and Dad it wasn’t running right. Now it’s gone and died on me. Perfect, just perfect.

She looked at the bags of groceries in the passenger seat and sighed. She grabbed them, opened the door and exited the truck, stopping to smack the steering wheel one more time for good measure. She divided the bags evenly between both hands and started walking up the driveway towards her house. During the course of her half-mile walk, she thought about the events of the past day and a half. First, there was the fight with her boyfriend. Well, not really a fight. She hadn’t even been able to respond to his statements and questions. She had just sat in stunned silence until he dropped her off at home, and when he had cautiously asked about their planned trip to the city, scheduled for today, she had told him that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. She had other things she needed...   read more »

Lady M sat down at her mahogany desk and gestured for her favorite client to do the same. After just a moment’s hesitation, he folded himself into the armchair opposite her, crossing his long legs and folding his hands in his lap. With the severe black suit and the tightly knotted tie, he looked as if he could be selling her a cemetery plot. His pale coloring and absolute stillness when he sat added to the image. She knew better. “Sherry,” she said, indicated the cut crystal glass before him. “We have not seen you in some little while, Mr. — Hammett, is it? This time?”

A small smile creased the impassive face before her. “That is correct. This time.”

She nodded. “I had assumed you wanted the usual arrangements. The tower suite is yours for the night. Fully stocked bar, two appetizer trays, cotton instead of silk sheets, and your companion...”

“As always, it is her choice. As always, the payment remains the same regardless of how long or short her visit is.”

Lady M bowed her head. “I did not wish to presume and so of course I wanted to check the arrangements with you.”

“Lady M, your service never fails to...   read more »

Charles watched him sleep.

Aloysius lay curled up tightly beside him; face as expressionless as always, even in sleep. But he still looked peaceful. His back was to the wall and he was painfully vulnerable, Charles didn’t dare touch him; Aloysius had reflexes like a viper. And he was significantly more dangerous. But he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, the doctors had given him something for the pain and something else to help him sleep.

I should change the bandage... Charles thought, taking the younger man’s forearm into his hand

Blood had soaked through just a little, and he wondered if Aloysius would wake if he changed it. “Hey Al,” He whispered. “I’m going to change this for you; just sleep, I won’t hurt you Al.”

Some suicide watch, he thought. I leave...   read more »

Mrs. Peabody smiled over my right shoulder and said, in her genteel old Mrs. Peabody voice, “Why, hello there.”

I didn’t bother to look around. Mrs. Peabody talked to someone over one of my shoulders almost every time I gave her medications. Thing was, there was never anyone there. Not in this dimension, anyway. I put the last spoonful of applesauce and crushed pills into her toothless mouth, gave her the rest of her Health Shake, and turned quickly, already imagining docking my medicine cart and retiring to the break room for an OJ. Instead I ran into a stone wall, bounced off, and hit...   read more »

V’s a real nowhere gal,
Even with a Pendy pal,
Sink her island if you please,
Or give her to Diogenes,
Olive oil and home made wine,
Let her die off on the vine,
Island Girl,
You're the type
For Nobody....   read more »

Pale silver blue eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in every detail of where he was in a single blink. He was on an overstuffed sofa, a pillow under his head and a thick blanket thrown over him. There was a wooden ceiling fan above his head, slowly spinning, its lights were on but still very dim. He lifted his head up; saw an entertainment center with a 24 inch TV and numerous pictures on the shelves surrounding it. There were four windows in the room, their blinds down but opened slightly to allow airflow.

A door shut with a bang somewhere near by. The...   read more »

The young FBI agent Halo Spencer looked out the side of his sunglasses to the older agent seated beside him. The other agent’s hair was white-blonde, contrasting to a completely black suit that was tailored to his too-thin frame. His eyes were silver like a Husky’s and his skin was pale to the point of transparency but not sickly in any way. His lips pressed into a disapproving line as he looked down at the case file on the table between them. Halo studied his profile in the half-dark of twilight and thought maybe he was an angel. It took him a moment to remember he’d stopped believing in angels.

Fine then,He decided. He’s a sculpture come to life or a god once sent to earth and then forgotten. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Today, he’s just my boss.

“What do you make of this Agent Spencer?” He asked in a voice unlike any he’d ever heard outside of movies. His accent was deep and in the buttery tones of the Deep South, he guessed maybe Louisiana, Alabama or one of the other Southern states.

Halo took his eyes off the other agent’s face for the first time in maybe thirty minutes to...   read more »

It was an exceedingly dull party. All the rich people of New Orleans were dragging around Old Man Caprian’s garden, celebrating the wedding of his youngest to the youngest of some other wealthy, boring person; drinking expensive wine and whiskey and trying to forget themselves. I was circling the outside of the main body of people, doing my damndest not to fit in, and feeling the bodice of my dress getting tighter and tighter and tighter, until I simply couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped my glass on a waiter’s tray and hurried into the house.

There were crowds there, too, in the main hall and the formal front parlor. Feeling pressed in, I kept moving on, seeking an empty room. Finally, in desperation, I asked a servant where I could go for a moment of privacy.

“Oh, upstairs, Ma’am. Feel free to use anyone of the guest rooms. Top of the stairs, turn right. Left is the family’s quarters.”

Thanking the kind gentleman, I began climbing the dramatically sweeping staircase. Seeing the opulence of the front hall made me miss my much smaller, more intimate cottage outside Tupelo. As if a twenty room mansion could be called a cottage. Still,...   read more »